Spring colour

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On the rising slopes above the campground, many surprising spring shows were tucked amongst the rocks. Some, like these White Everlastings or Paper Daisies (Coronidium elatum), only appeared in a few places.

Overall, white, yellow and purple seemed to be the chosen colour palette.

The swamp below the rocks was dotted with hundreds of these shrubs, their delicate creamy blossoms looking like garden escapees, too pretty to be growing wild. But they are Small-fruited Hakea (Hakea microcarpa), which like sub-alpine swamps.

Much less common, to the extent that this was the only one I saw, was another white flowering plant, Coral Heath (Epacris microphylla), with its unusual stems, clasped by dozens of tiny leaves.

I had noticed these shy lilac buds the day before, but next day they were blooming and blue; Thelymitra ixioides, a single-stalked ground orchid that likes to open on warm sunny days.

I saw very few other orchids, such as these Donkeys’ Ears ones, but they had no chance in the major claims to yellow.

The slopes were carpeted with shrubs of the sort we always called ‘Eggs-and-bacon’ as kids, pea flower families, of which there are hundreds of types. There were three discernible sorts here, some prickly, some not and some with more red in their centres (more tomato sauce, as we’d say).

Some were threaded through with purple Hardenbergia.

With all these flowers to see, it was hard to watch my feet on the rocky tracks, let alone look up to the stunning rocks. But I did stop to look up, so rocks and giant boulders will be my next post. So, so much to see!

Cool camp flora

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In Cathedral Rocks National Park, the Barokee campground alone would be enough to keep me returning. Fascinating flora, and fabulously abundant birdsong.

This charming little alpine creek runs through the nearby swamp, its cushioned grassy edges soft and inviting, the fresh water cold, but still inviting.

Being a swamp, it has varieties of rushes, but this stripey one especially caught my eye. I am told it is a species of Baloskion. Maybe tetraphyllum?

My wayward eye was also taken by this quirky baby bracken frond, questioning life before it commits to unfurling.

Unmissable was this small group of plants that the boffins at NSW Plants I.D. say is Tasmannia stipitata, or Tasmanian Pepper Berry. I later saw many such plants higher up, but not in flower, and without the red colourations.

Brilliant red new growths always take my attention, and here at camp these were spectacular, ranging from orange-red to burgundy, some even as part of a quite large shrub/tree.  

Throughout the walks and climbs I was later to see many examples, mostly small and isolated – Trochocarpa montana, or Mountain Tree Heath, native to this high country, from the Barringtons to the Dorrigo region.

One more unknown species flashing red by the campground turned out to be Polyscias sambucifolia, or Elderberry panax. A native, its purple berries are edible, but not related to the European Elderberry.

All new to me, and thanks to the NSW Native Plants I.D. Facebook group, now given names and background information.

But I did eventually leave the campground and climb up amongst the rocks, finding more plants to share with you next post.

High country Nature

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I greatly enjoyed the recent Dorrigo Bluegrass and Folk Festival, but afterwards I needed a quiet bush break.

As it was so close, I headed for Cathedral Rocks National Park, but stopped in at the refurbished Ebor Falls Lookout, just off the main road.

Fitted out with new cliff-skirting concrete paths and metal railings, it would gladden the heart of any OHS observer. And yes, I know the paths were aimed to be wheelchair- and walker-friendly.

In a way, the tourist-oriented features detracted from the wildness whose viewing they facilitated.

But not much, once I looked over those railings. In fact, they emphasised that wildness by that very contrast.

For me the best part of any falls is always the point where a calm stream becomes the dramatic drop that we all goggle at. Here a fisherman is trying his luck just upstream from that point.

And dramatic they are!

The organ pipe rock formations of the cliffs are equally stunning. Formed around 19 million years ago, when the cooling lava from the Ebor Volcano created these vertical contraction cracks, they are part of the ancient Demon Fault Line.

At the base of those cliffs was a very noticeable localised group of bright green, which has been identified as Tree Ferns, likely Dicksonia antarctica. Great to see them recovering after the fires here.

The imposing Upper Falls are followed downstream by the narrower Lower Falls.

Beyond them the creek heads into the wonderful rugged wilderness of this high country.

I think its wild expanse is why I love it so much. 

Here be dragons…

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My new place has families of Eastern Water Dragons (Intellagama lesueurii lesueurii).

They mainly sunbake, even in the middle of the road, or perch on raised plantings in the garden.

Liking water, they do swim; I have seen one here jump into a bucket half-full of water– incidentally scaring the daylights out of me!

Often mistaken for a Frill-necked Lizard, they are beautifully patterned, with the most elegant long toes and fingers. Their heads are always up, questing, curious?

Last week a visiting friend, Jane, seemed to have special appeal as the largest Dragon, the male I assume, came up onto the verandah where we were sitting. He was almost under our chairs, pointing his spade-shaped head this way and that. 

They are mainly insectivorous, but like all sorts of delicacies as they mature, so maybe he thought we had cake — we didn’t, just coffee.

While unafraid, these Dragons are wary, so I wasn’t game to get up to fetch my camera. But Jane had her phone camera, so took these great pictures.

I am very grateful to have them as my resident wildlife.

Dromedary dilemma

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For years I have driven past the Port Macquarie paddocks (opposite the golf course) where a herd of camels live, and wondered each time about their ability to cope with this most non-desert/green/high rainfall region.

Finally I stopped and took a closer look.

These camels are used for tourist rides, rather ludicrously called ‘Safaris’, on Lighthouse Beach.

They look out of place, as you can see, but they appear contented. They retain all the facial features useful to keep sand out of their eyes and mouth and nose, but here there is no need.

I learn that Australian camels, now a feral pest in northern parts, are Dromedaries, most suited to the Middle East … and Australia; 94 per cent of the world’s camels are such one-humped Dromedaries.

The humps hold fat, not water, as I’d always believed.

Most of this herd of about eleven camels were leisurely chewing their cuds, yet managing to look quite aristocratic as they did so.

There is something about the elevated angle at which they hold their heads that commands respect.

I noted that many stood with their back legs splayed. Unlike with horses, this did not appear to signal urination.

And then I noticed that most had a piercing, a camel nose peg, I learnt it is called, mainly made of timber. They did not all seem to have one, and it seems such pegs are mainly used to control bull camels, or to link camels in a ’string’.

I investigated, and yes, it is painful to have done, in that sensitive nose or mouth area, and should be done by a vet.

Here I confess I do not even have my ears pierced.

However, I invite you to check out what the RSPCA has to say about the practice.

I am impressed by these strange and noble creatures, with their googly eyes and mobile cleft lips, their spinal ridges of fur and their surprisingly wavy tails.

I hope they have no memory of endless desert sands… or that the 20 minute ‘Safaris’ on Lighthouse Beach fulfil some small part of the genetic yearning they must have. 

After Lighthouse

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I have decided to investigate each of the fire trails that penetrate the bush and heath after the civilisation of Lighthouse Beach has been left behind.

The first is Immediately after the last ‘estate’.

So close to houses and yet still wild enough to house some surprises for me, like this fallen forked branch fully decked in what might be orchids? Healthy greenery at any rate…

There are enough older trees with hollows for other plants… and hopefully creatures…to use as homes.

Some trees are very large, like this impressive one, which I think is an Angophora. It is so grand that I am grateful it has survived; too twisty for saw logs?

There is a variety of palms to be seen from the fire trail, adding to the patterns of foliage as if by design.

There are lots of paperbarks, including those surrounding a very full and rather scummy swamp.

A few wildflowers are out but what surprised me was above my eye level: a red-flowering mistletoe in a tree. Its slender bells were more noticeable when fallen onto the now sandy ground below.

Also eye-catching was a small sawn-off stump (ti-tree?) emulating a flower.

Almost at the beach, I was halted by this shell-studded plastic rope, its bright tresses cascading down the side of a Ned Kelly sculpture, a post. Someone must have picked it up as beach flotsam and grown weary of carrying it, but I appreciated the artistic sense of the arrangement.

I did reach the sea, only to find the beach scored by 4WD tracks, even up on the higher levels where they should not be, where shorebirds might nest.

Worse than Dunbogan Beach.

But here is just south of the very popular Lighthouse Beach, and it is not long after the October weekend when thousands of extra people visited.

Still, the sea, collaborating with the sky and sun, make such a picture that I can ignore what has been done to the sand.

And the walk itself has been worth doing.

Botanica tropica

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Lake Eacham on the Atherton Tablelands is a beautiful crater lake, filled only by rainwater. Mostly blue, in parts it is this amazing green. Seen from the walk around the lake, the fact that it is likely from algae does not detract from the surprise or the beauty.

There are so many unknown plants in these forests that I can only marvel. They are always hard to photograph, as so brightly skyward dominated above, with darkly buttressed forest below.

The ‘birds’ nest’ ferns are huge, and different from what I am used to.

This is a fallen one, dead and stiff, like a woven work of art, partly finished.

This one was atypically low-growing. The Queensland I.D. group suggests it’s Basket Fern (Drynaria rigidula) which makes absolute sense.

Amidst all the greenish trunks, I kept seeing occasional ones that were eye-catchingly bright orange-red, and flaky. The boffins suggest Paperbark Satinash (Syzygium papyraceum).

Tree ferns were common near the small clear-running creeks.

The most notable plants for me were the vines, some so old and gnarled (left) as to look older than the trees they used to help them climb to the light. Others (right) had unusually papery bark, pale green and deceptively soft.

For any vine to climb so high, they cannot be too soft, as this one (left) shows, where it has forced the host tree to accommodate its growth. But mostly they seemed more flexible, with a simple hugging help-up needed now and then, (right) twisting around themselves for added strength.

Some had not yet found a host tree and had twisted every which way in the search.

At whatever stage they are, vines, like fungi, fascinate me. 

These rainforests offered me far more than blog posts will accommodate, but after this one I will leave them to their tropical wonders and return to Nature in my more southerly climes.

Fantasy forest

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Life is a struggle in the rainforest, and elaborate means are used to reach the light and to survive.

This huge Curtain Fig on the Atherton Tableland is famous, but not unique.

Once the fig had strangled the host tree, it fell over on to another tree, and the vertical roots descended to feed it, forming a curtain.

On another walk, this one showed the process of development of those curtains.

But figs are not orderly in their strangling.

Or gentle. This could look like an embrace but it has a relentlessness about it that seems cruel. Anthropomorphic, I know.

Where do root and trunk differentiate?  Incredible colours and shapes kept catching my eye in this fantasy world.

I have no idea what is going on in this miniature strangling scenario, but it seems not of this world. And is it plant or creature or something in between?

Rainforest fungi

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In Nature nothing is wasted. Fallen and dead trees are habitat for fabulous fungi, and the damp conditions in these forests encourage them en masse.

Some were solid and strange, unknown to me… unless someone had been sneaking about with a can of whitewash.

Others were like flowers, fringed and delicate fans.

Amidst the profusion of mossy green, orange and white stood out.

Less obvious, but more unusual, were these black ones, looking more like moths which, having briefly alighted on this log, were choosing to stay and transform into the most fanciful shapes.

How beautiful is this cascade of snowy flakes?

Whether weird or wonderful, abundance was the common theme in these tropical forests. 

I do love moss and lichen, but fungi have my heart too.

Tinaroo bird residents

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Apart from that crocodile, the strangest creature I saw in Atherton was the Bush Stone-curlew (Burhinus grallarius). A pair of them seemed to live at or around my friend’s Tinaroo Lodge.

One had a brownish tinge to its chest, but I cannot discover if that denotes sex or just a stage of maturity.

They are tall and slightly creepy, with those googly yellow eyes and stiff determined walk. Also called Thick-knee, they can bend their legs backwards, for squatting on the ground.

In fact, the first time I saw them, they were doing just that, so well camouflaged I wasn’t sure I had seen them.

Mostly nocturnal, their night calls are said to be like a woman screaming, being murdered. Many legends attach to that cry, mostly to do with death. I didn’t hear it (have my hearing aids out at night), but I have listened on YouTube and indeed it does sound scary.

Right outside my studio accommodation was one of the many bird baths here, and this one especially attracted dozens of Red-browed Finches (Neochmia temporalis).

Tiny, they were constantly changing perches and tiers, popping up and peering at me, then splashing in again.

With their bright red heads and tail markings and sleek olive backs, they are very attractive, a joyful fluttering busyness to watch… if hard to photograph.

The other simpler bird bath nearby was a favourite of Yellow Robins ( Eopsaltria australis, I assumed), with an occasional visit permitted from others such as this Willy Wagtail (Rhipidura leucophrys). After all, who could refuse such a cute show-off as a Willy Wagtail?

But the avian highlight was found at sunset at Hastie’s Swamp, where a two-level bird hide allows the peaceful contemplation of thousands of water birds of many, many species, arriving and preparing to settle for the night.

It was totally their world, into which we were allowed a peek. Loved it…

Tropical oddities

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Lake Tinaroo being man-made, there ought not to be crocodiles there, but freshwater crocodiles are in there, although not often seen.

Lake Eacham is a crater lake and it does have one freshwater croc, albeit again seldom seen.

So it was a treat to have a trail runner point out this one basking on a log near shore.

Is it yawning or smiling?

The flora discovery was that some tropical Queensland trees grow flowers out of their bark, a behaviour called ‘cauliflory’.

The wonderful resource of the Queensland Plants Identification Facebook page  revealed this for me.

Firstly this one, abundant to the point of  showiness, is Yellow Mahogany (Epicharis parasitica). 

And then on the Bumpy Satinash (Syzgium cormiflorum) was this one, spotted on several walks. These only flower every twp to five years so we were lucky. The fruits that would follow are often called ‘White Apple’.

We later saw other trees, on other rainforest walks, where the flowers were more fully open, fluffily fringed like gumnut blossoms.

In the garden of Inge’s Tinaroo home we spotted this weird green-fruited tree and discovered it is a Hairy Fig (Ficus hispida).

The fruits of these three tropical trees are naturally loved by cassowaries.

Growing on the bark makes the fruit accessible to more than high flying birds, or to opportunistic ground foragers once the fruit falls.

This sci-fi apparition is a cycad, I learn. Our Facebook boffins say it is a female Cycas ophiolitica, but out of its usual range.

As it is in Inge’s garden, it was likely planted, and she has pruned the dead leaves, so the crown we see is fresh growth, which developed very fast.

These cycads are descended from the first seed-bearing plants, around 200 million years ago, and although they look like palms or ferns, they are actually related to pines, as cone-bearing.

Tropical Queensland has opened my mind to many flora possibilities that I’d once have dismissed as fanciful.

But there were many simply wonderful plants in those forests, as well as weird ones. Next post…

Lake Tinaroo surprise

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The Barron River on Queensland’s Atherton Tableland was dammed in 1958 for agriculture. It flows on after the towering dam wall that contains the large Lake Tinaroo.

Lake Tinaroo is edged by rainforest and mountains in some parts, as in Danbulla National Park, giving it many moods, and by domesticated areas in others.

I am staying at my friend Inge’s Tinaroo Haven BnB, a precious few acres of bushland full of wildlife and birdsong.

The Lake is hugely popular for fishing and boating, but its shallow areas’ dead trees marking it as man-made reduce its appeal for me.

As I have just read the evocative ‘Cool Water’ by Myfanwy Jones, set during the construction of this dam, I am especially attuned to the drowned land that lies beneath the surface.

But the dam spillway is another matter. The day I was there it was spilling over from the Lake in an amazing perpetual pattern, roaring with beauty.

The constantly changing chevrons of white lace were mesmerising.

Once they reached the base they created new patterns.

My friend had never seen the spillway like this, but rather a more even overflow curtain. This day I was just lucky.