A remote Southern Ocean beach without a name on a rugged little bay on the west coast of Victoria. Sounded ideal. Was. Lizzie and I packed a good map, a picnic lunch, my wetsuit and snorkelling gear and the waterproof camera. We also carried a mud map drawn by a helpful local to assist us in finding this beach. Bit of a trek from where the road ended, but worth it. It was a wonderful few hours respite from the world notwithstanding that the sky was overcast, the visibility underwater wasn’t very good and the March flies were out in force living up to their calendar connection. While many landed on us in their usual annoying way, neither of us got bitten for some reason – a bonus we gratefully accepted.
This is the remote stretch of coast exposed to the full force of the Southern Ocean where we found a small bay without a name. The full force of the ocean was not happening on this day, which meant I could go snorkelling. On days of big surf, swimming would not be possible anywhere along this part of the coast. Exciting and remote places, but no arrow to Unnamed Beach. The Great Ocean Walk is a famous coastal walk of 100kms or so from Apollo Bay to the Twelve Apostles area. It takes about 8 days to do the whole walk. This sign is on the walking track which we crossed on our walk to the beach. Out of sight below the cliff is a beach. My snorkelling location was in the sheltered small bay inside the reef with the small breaking waves on the left of the image. The sky was making no secret of the approaching change in the weather. I have never seen seaweed like this before. It was like dark green rope, and it was everywhere on these reefs. This was taken through the dome port on my waterproof camera housing. After immersion underwater, initially there is an even layer of water over the 6 inch diameter dome port, which contracts in stages as it runs off the convex glass dome. On this occasion, the disappearing water symmetrically framed Lizzie. Rookie error not clearing the dome port before clicking, but an acceptable result all things considered. I entered the water by sliding down the rocks which were thickly covered in all sorts of seaweed and kelp which was entirely comfortable for such a mode of entry. Lizzie was on lookout for anything on our single-item list of good reasons to get out of the water immediately. Most stingrays I have come across while swimming or snorkelling in the ocean in this part of the world are pretty laid back. They glide with purpose and composure and never seem rushed. I think I must have surprised this one, because his exit was at high speed with a few wild high bank turns thrown in. We exchanged the giving of frights. Closeup from the previous photo. The marine plant life here was highly varied, large and exotic. There were varieties of seaweed and kelp I had never seen before. The broad strips of thick yellow kelp (on the left) were all over the place. The long flowing tendrils of thinner kelp (on the right) were also common. While there was no surf to speak of, there were some waves and the water was in constant motion with currents coming and going. The long kelp undulated back and forth in slow motion in these currents. Substantial flattish rocks were spread around on the seabed. I found them useful to provide a clear backdrop against which to photograph fish. I have taken quite a few underwater photos of fish which were visible to me at the time mainly because of their movement, and the still picture was nothing more than a testament to their excellent and sometimes perfect camouflage marking. I regularly see more fish at the time of taking a photo than I can find in the photo later. Marine plant garden. At least this fish can be seen against the colourful backdrop. There is a rocky outcrop hiding under all this plant life. There were areas of deeper water quite close to the reefs. The colours under the water surprised me given that it was on overcast day. The marine plants temporarily flattened out in a surge of current from the deeper water. I was going backwards too as I took this photo. The colours present would’ve graced any garden. There is unfortunately nothing in this photo to give any clear sense of scale of the size of this species of kelp. It was a great sight, especially when extended and waving in the currents. Rocky rampart between sea and shore. As the bubbles, reduced visibility and seaweed tangles show, there was quite a current at this spot. Between the surges of current. My memory of this scene was that it included more than three fish. Whatever.There must be a lot of nutrients in this water, or this spot must be just the right temperature and depth to allow such a tangle of prolific growth on this narrow strip of sand between large rocks. My intended subject, the distant horizon, remained unphotographed thanks to a small wave passing by just as I pulled the shutter trigger. Aesthetic curve.Looking for some seaweed covered gently sloping rock on which to slide up and out of the water. The rock shelf extended some distance from the beach. Hot cup of black tea after my swim and a picnic lunch on the rocks. Social distancing par excellence. The nearest land mass south of where we we sat is Antarctica.
2 thoughts on “Snorkelling on the exposed and remote coast near Cape Otway”
Thanks John. Yet another one of your magic spots down the coast. Isn’t extraordinary though that there can be such an amazing bay just outside our back door and nobody much seems to know about it.
And by the way if you slid down the rocks on your backside to get in the water how did you get out – can’t slide up hill!
Cheers, Richard
I refer you to the caption under the third last photo Richard. As for the matter of sliding up hill, I did so on my belly and the wetsuit against the dense wet seaweed was close to frictionless, making the exit easy, and some (but not Liz) may even say elegant.
Exploring the tracks less travelled on the west coast is very rewarding. We must go snorkelling together in this area some time Richard. Autumn with its light winds and glassy seas might be a good time to do this.
South 
Thanks John. Yet another one of your magic spots down the coast. Isn’t extraordinary though that there can be such an amazing bay just outside our back door and nobody much seems to know about it.
And by the way if you slid down the rocks on your backside to get in the water how did you get out – can’t slide up hill!
Cheers, Richard
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I refer you to the caption under the third last photo Richard. As for the matter of sliding up hill, I did so on my belly and the wetsuit against the dense wet seaweed was close to frictionless, making the exit easy, and some (but not Liz) may even say elegant.
Exploring the tracks less travelled on the west coast is very rewarding. We must go snorkelling together in this area some time Richard. Autumn with its light winds and glassy seas might be a good time to do this.
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