#hamelinbay

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Meeting the famous sting rays at Hamelin Bay Beach.

Like most children, I too am trapped inside the body of someone no longer able to identify as a child. It does mean however, that I still want to climb trees, stick my tongue out and screw up my face after eating disgusting grown up foods like mushrooms or oysters (to be fair I won’t actually go near either), and have a favourite animal. Well, on that last point I have several. Obviously dogs. Especially ones from my past, present and future, as well as every single one I will never meet, and all their canid cousins. Secondly, reptiles. Again this is not restrictive, though if an adult were to ask then I’d say snakes and then fine if pushed, pythons. OK, if you’re really interested, let me get my book of Australian reptiles and I can show you all the ones I’ve seen in the wild since I’ve been ticking them off since I got here. Lastly, rays though specifically this time, the stingray family.

Fortunately, I was spending holidays just after New Year’s at some friends’ house in south-west Western Australia. A stunning property sitting atop 30 acres with an olive grove, fruit trees, a small dam, and enough potential to create quite the permaculture retreat, it’s also nestled just a short drive from each of the Indian Ocean, the Southern Ocean, and the Blackwood River. Two of these supposedly contain at least four species of our stingray family which, in turn, could make me one happy little traveller.

On January 1st, 2005, I landed in Perth, WA, with a mate as we set off on an Australasian adventure from our homes back in Bristol, UK. Our very first week on Aussie soil saw us take a drive into the south-west corner of WA, including a night in Bunbury where we were able to handfeed the resident dolphins. Further down the coast, and following some Lonely Planet advice, we rocked up at a beach called Hamelin Bay. Here, we were advised, one would often see stingrays humbugging the returning fisherman for scraps as the caught haul were prepared in the shadows of what remained of a decaying wooden jetty, once used to service timber milling operations.

In 2005, we were not disappointed. My memory of the entire five week trip largely following the urban coastal part of this isle is somewhat hazy. Not through any drink or drug induced haze but merely through my own inability to remember anything other than that which may crop up during a round of Jeopardy. However, my one crystal clear memory is of stroking these huge cartilaginous cousins of sharks in the lapping shoreline of the tranquil Indian Ocean (pic below).

It was another thirteen years until I saw another in the wild. This was during a free diving adventure off the coast of Bali, involved the largest of the stingray family, the manta ray, and can be read about in a previous blog ‘Among the Fields of Bali’. Three years further along and I’m back at Hamelin Bay, just a ten minute drive from my friends’ house and almost just as I remember it.

The friends have an eleven month old son and it was he we were entertaining with an evening dip at the beach. I spent the appropriate amount of time pretending not to be excited about being back at Stingray City before getting unnecessarily excited about being back at Stingray City. To mask my inner stan, I casually sauntered towards the boat ramp and beyond, the dilapidated pillars of the jetty to find… nothing. Nada, zilch, squat. Natch. Uh oh. Upon my return to my friends I was informed that some rays had been brutally butchered by a few callous locals a few years ago. Unprotected as they were, they were fair game for a ‘catch’ and the laws insufficient for those actions to be classed as illegal. Now, the shoreline is a protected zone for the rays however, it seemed that they had not yet returned. I left deflated.

A day or two later I was in the township of Augusta which sits just up from the estuary of the Blackwood River before it empties into the Southern Ocean and is also just a ten minute drive from my holiday basecamp. Along the riverbank sit numerous cleaning stations. These are small, wooden structures utilised for the cleaning and filleting of caught fish before they’re thrown onto a barbecue at the campground behind for the freshest of feeds. The resident rays are wise to the process and loiter when someone is nearby. Here I was able to amble among eagle rays and spotted rays. If no scraps are on offer, the rays will nudge into you like a hungry puppy and loiter at your feet expectantly. I spent too many hours across a few days paddling with, and photographing these rays. In the absence of the Indian Ocean mob, I was delighted to be entertained by half a dozen or so of these wee fellas, but it wasn’t the same.

A week later, I returned alone to Hamelin Bay and trundled down to the shore to reminisce. It was sixteen years to the day when I was there earlier this trip. Now, these seven days on, I was enjoying the twilight views and a cooling ocean breeze in ankle deep water. From the corner of one eye, a dark shadow caught my attention. Watching carefully, is it a rock? Are the gentle undulations of the tide suggesting underwater movement where none exists? Perhaps it’s just a mass of seaweed. And then, a turn! A tail flicks behind it as the shadow nears. A ray is back! It turns out they didn’t disappear. My attendance earlier just unfortunate timing. On this occasion I counted a dozen or so patrolling the shoreline, a mix of black and silky stingrays. As more onlookers arrived, the rays approached, seeking the scraps they are so often presented. Considerably larger than their freshwater brethren, they are just as demanding nudging the calves and resting above feet awaiting their feed. They are rewarded often enough though are unable to distinguish between the mass of legs as to who may be a provider. It can be a surreal thirty seconds or so feeling the sand move between the toes as a result of the ray drawing water through its mouth an inch from your foot and out through the gills where gas exchange occurs, before the ray loses patience and moves onto the next grounded limb.

Stingrays!!! These are very rare famous creatures and I am lucky enough to see them on way to Margaret River at Hamelin Bay beach. The beach is very clean and often you will see many people fishing, making videos of catching fish and releasing them back to water, watching and playing with stringrays coming down the shore.

Do visit the Hamelin beach on the way to Margaret River. Though it's not famous for any water sports but a silent, alone time and ofcourse stingrays you can definitely experience.