flowers

Miners’ mini walk

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At the southern end of Shelly Beach at Port Macquarie, the Coast Walk continues to wind its way towards Tacking Point. But today I am only checking out the very short (600m) part that leads from Shelly to Miners Beach.  

The track rises at once, and looking back along Shellys I can see Port’s ubiquitous pine trees.

But very soon the native coastal vegetation asserts itself, wind-combed and shaped.

This walk passes through several delightful greenery ‘tunnels’, a favourite brief fairytale fancy of mine.

It also passes an accessible small rocky cove and beach, where the subtropical vegetation thrives despite the salty position.

The very odd-looking Pandanus tectorius or Screw Pines are a major feature here, although they‘re not pines or palms; their distinctive aerial roots prop them against the sea winds. They are so called as their saw-tooth-edged leaves grow in a spiral or screw-like fashion.

Those leaves are used in weaving for a multitude of purposes in many cultures, including our Indigenous one.

On one tree I spy a single large pineapple-looking fruit. Hard and fibrous, they do not invite a bite, but can be edible with the right treatment, or at least their seeds can.

More easily eaten, beloved by many birds, albeit not so tasty for humans, are the fruits of the small Port Jackson Figs (Ficus rubiginosa) growing beside the track. 

So are the berries of the Common Lilly Pilly (Acmena smithii) growing near the Figs.

This being summer, the time of fruits rather than flowers, I see few plants in bloom. This late Swamp Lilly (Crinum pedunculatum) is large and showy, demanding attention. Its neighbour sports the fruit, which is definitely not edible, as it is toxic to humans.

I am almost at Miners Beach, but I have to stop to watch sky and sea combining to create spectacular ephemeral pictures.

Once known as the nudist beach, Miners is hardly secluded anymore, and if clothes are optional, it is not so officially!

But well worth walking to nevertheless…

Seeking the shy platypus

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From Mooraback campground in Werrikimbe National Park I take the walk to follow the little creek to seek platypuses/platypi in its larger pools.

But it is a very hot day and this walk passes through open paddock flat land before it reaches the first rocky hill. You can see the little creek at the base of those rocks.

From the 1830s until it became a National Park in 1975, this land was farmed, often for dairy cattle. A succession of families tried to make a go of it and the introduced trees, remnant orchards and paddocks remain obvious signs of settlement.

A few kangaroos keep watch as I trudge past, heading for the shade of that hill and its trees, where it has been too hard and rocky to clear or cultivate.

Telltale green denotes domestic survivors; I spot apple and plum trees.

I keep an eye on the creek wherever the walk takes me near it, but the water is murky and the sun is high. I am not here at the preferred ends of the day where a shy platypus might be out and about.

On the way I see some plants I don’t recognise, like this sole bush with its red stems and pretty white raggedy blossoms. The boffins tell me it is Prostanthera lasianthos.

I had been bypassing the many small lilac flowers in the grass by the track, appreciative, but dismissing them as the familiar Wahlenbergia. But then I realised that the flowers on these clumps were different — a single pendant lilac petal with a white eye.

The boffins sent me to PlantNet where I learn it is Slender Violet-bush (Hybanthus monopetalus). ‘Monopetalus’: one petal!

A lilac flower I do recognise is this Purple Flag (Patersonia occidentalis). They are as shy as a platypus, and daintily disposed amongst the tough grasses on this stony hill.

After my last walk and post, I now know the Grass Trigger-plant, of which there are plenty here, but am delighted to spot this caterpillar. I wonder what it will become?

I reach the mid-point of the Platypus walk, and the larger pools, but see no platypus. It is almost noon; too hot to venture out: ‘mad dogs and Englishmen’ as Noel Coward sang… and me … but not the smarter platypus.

On the way back I see one plant with which I am very familar, as it surprised me (and Ludwig Leichhardt, incidentally) at my Mountain with its beauty: the Pink Hyacinth Orchid (Dipodium variegatum). Showing no leaves, no sign of its existence, most of the time, when it would suddenly send up its thick stem, usually in summer, it was always a treat for me. And then the showy burgundy-speckled pink flower!

So while I didn’t see a platypus, probably due to my poor timing, I did see some special plants.

But the main impression of this walk was a sadness, brought on by the remnants of its settlement time; all those families striving to beat this high and often harsh climate, making a life for their families for a time, and then having to move on. I don’t know if they cleared the paddocks or if they were natural, with the bracken-covered slopes above them more likely, so I won’t blame them for that; I can only empathise with those lives of hard work.

Yet I am determined to see a platypus, so I will return and set out on that walk at a sensible time!

Mooraback Spring

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The Mooraback campground in Werrikimbe National Park is surrounded by blossom-laden Tea Trees (Leptospermum polygalifolium) at present.

They make as pretty a show as any introduced plant like May Bush (Spirea).

On the shortest walk near the camp, the mown grass track leads past many other white flowering bushes, which I was calling Rice Flowers, but which the experts tell me is Ozothamnus diosmilfolius.

Some were as tall as small trees.

Edging the path in some places, like guards of honour, were multitudes of these pink Grass Trigger-plants (Stylidium graminifolium).

The path led me through mysterious groves of low and spreading trees like these…

…to come out on to such grandeur as here, with a view across the damp Tree Fern gully to Messmate (E. obliqua, Snow Gum (E. pauciflora), Wattle-leaved Peppermint (E. acaciformis) and Manna Gums (E.nobilis).

A large Manna Gum rose in front of me, estimated to be about 150 years old.

This was a delightfully varied and easy stroll, looping back to the equally delightful grassy campground.

Mooraback is a long drive off the Oxley Highway, but worth it!

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.

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…

Port peace

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Today I dared my first beach walk, after a week flu-bound indoors, basically doing nought but coughing and sleeping.

The beach was pretty empty, although several fishermen were risking the rocks.

The rocks along the Port Macquarie coast are quite harsh and unfriendly in appearance. They are not foot- or hand- friendly either. Such a contrast with the gentle continuous swell that they edge.

There are many scattered ‘rocklets’  creating lacy patterns and sinuous swirls of their own.

There were very few remnant patterns from the tide, but I don’t know the moods of this beach yet.

As this cliff and this beach are close to many flats and houses, I wonder about the content of the drips on several rock faces, where the liquid is like caramel topping, not water.

I am pleased to see a healthy banksia with candles all a-glow, but mainly the beach itself claims my attention.

I sit on the edge of a sandbank and admire the tenacious grass runners. Not much evidence of crab activity, as I was used to at Dunbogan but then I am late here today.

It’s not a dog beach. There are just a few determined walkers, doing the length and back.

I feel so relaxed I could sleep on the sand.

Trying to understand why there is such a sense of peace here, I finally get it.

There are no vehicle tracks, no 4WD scourings, just the tidemarks…

Just Nature.

Natural pinks

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The glory of a very pink sunset and its reflections in the Camden Haven River were a treat. The deep blue additions seemed like punctuation marks.

Although some of that blue cohort seemed more like questing creatures, hurrying forward against that stunning still backdrop bank of pink.

As the colour faded, their southern rush was echoed by a higher golden compatriot, aiming to leap over the blue bars.

Fanciful?  Yes, but such an ephemeral show invited fancies.  Better than facts at present…

At home the cascades of several varieties of Schlumbergera cacti were showing a fine range of pinks in their abundant flowers, from pearly pales to cyclamen deeps.

I would usually say I don’t actually like pink much, but I applaud these.

Urban nature

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In the busy commercial and tourist heart of Port Macquarie, the town park holds a secret behind its manicured lawns and gardens and picnic tables: the Kooloonbung Creek Nature Reserve.

As we followed a boardwalk through mangrove forests and paperbark swamps, the swarms of mosquitoes made it hard to focus on anything else, and in the heat of the day, little else moved. A young Water Dragon was a notable exception, quick to dash away.

This vine root had got itself so tangled and knotted that no dashing was being considered.

But high in the trees, the Reserve’s Flying Foxes were busy flapping their wings to stay cool.

On the industrial edge of Port Macquarie, the Googik Track offers walkers and bike riders an amazing escape into Nature. For the first part of it, the nearby traffic noise was loud and steady, an incongruous juxtaposition to what I was seeing, like these large robust and spreading  gum trees, Eucalyptus signata, Snappy Gums or Scribbly Gums.

And much scribbled-upon they were…

More of the vegetation was swampland, with paperbarks and reeds and palms large and small.

In one part, pretty lilac native flowers grew beside the track, Burmannia disticha, new to me; also found in China, India and other parts of Asia.

One plant I am now familiar with was Xanthorrhoea resinosa, the Grasstree with the underground stem, and there were thousands of them here, all past flowering, some growing really tall.

My favourite sighting was of the dainty spider web cups suspended in the reeds and still glistening with dewdrops.

I didn’t walk the whole track; I will when it’s not so hot, and perhaps not at such a busy get-to-work time of day, for the traffic.

Not sure how to reduce the number of bike riders coming up fast behind me, none dinging their bells. Isn’t that the custom when passing a pedestrian on a shared path? Especially one who might stumble a bit as she goggled at spider webs…

Local gems

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Walking in a reserve near me on the mid north coast, I spied these two little eyes peeping up at me.  The only ones I saw, prettily and symmetrically positioned beside the path, they turned out to be shorter-than-usual Fringed Lilies, Thysanotus tuberosus.

On the same walk there are many Ribbonwood (Euroschinus falcatus) trees, but I had never seen them so abundantly fruiting before. There were masses of bunches of purple/black berries. No wonder there are so many birds here.

I had seen their small flowers, some of which were still in evidence. Apparently these trees are having a bumper season for berries everywhere. Go birds!

As always, the twists and turns of vines fascinate me. Why and how?

While most trees do not twist as vines — or Angophoras — do, they can still surprise, as with this puckered trunk, radiating a pattern as it closes over a wound.

No matter how many times I walk this track, there is always something new to me. So I always carry my camera, and try not to trip up as I peer about. Such a treat, to live amongst so much natural wonderment.

Lichen Land

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‘Halt! Who goes there?’

I am sure that was the message from this guardian of the green world I was about to enter in New England National Park.

For ‘green’ is the theme in this high rainfall area, and the mosses, lichens and ferns were carrying it in abundance, in every shade and shape.

Some took turns in flaunting the riches — a jewelled collar, a draping lacy veil.

On the Tea Tree Falls Walk, the small creek was edged with mosses so thick as to resemble swales.

And this is the Tea Tree itself, a Leptospermum sp.in glorious bloom, its tiny flowers in such profusion that the bushes or small trees looked dusted with snow.

I loved the many ways the moss distributed itself, in knobs, bands or splodges, sharing with other small plants like orchids, as decorative as necklaces.

When the lichen hung in such lengths that it was blowing in the wind like green-gold tresses, I knew I was in another world and different creatures were the dominant inhabitants.

Post-fire beauty

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Walking along a fire trail in Crowdy Bay National Park, I was stunned by the beauty of these Hakea bushes.

Gracefully arching, daintily flowering, they are Hakea teretifolia, also unhappily called Needlebush. The leaves are very spiky, but still…

In the long flat stretch of what seems like heath, the Hakeas stand out, etched in pastel strokes. This whole area was severely burnt out several years ago, so such a resurgence is a delight to see.

I had been directed to come here because of the abundance of these Bottlebrush Grass Trees, Xanthorrhoea macronema. The trunk of this variety is underground, and I’d thought it amazing when I saw a single specimen last year, as it was new to me.

Like the Hakea, another creamy white flowering native plant. There were only a few in bloom, but I could see hundreds of spent brown flower spikes across the reedy flat. These plants are stimulated by fire.

In the distance I spotted a few bright solo Christmas Bells.  Perhaps more will appear later in the season.

As the track reached forest and slight rises, the tall gums showed how they had survived the fire, with the many life-saving epicormic shoot clusters, now dead, no longer necessary, still evident.

And on my way back, a swift surprise flashed through the trees by the track; too swift for a good photo, but bird-lovers have identified it as a Brown Cuckoo Dove, Macropygia phasianella. I had thought it a dove by its head, but the long tail threw me. 

Such shared knowledge is much appreciated, and here I have learnt several new things on one walk.