High in the Blue Mountains; Blackheath #2 - plants

In my last post I introduced the lovely Rough Track cabins on the edge of the Blue Mountains National Park, just outside of Blackheath at the top of the mountains. I promised to conclude this brief series with some plants that we've seen around there in a couple of visits - a couple of years ago in mid-summer drought, and very recently in a wet spring. There's a lot going on here at the moment so this one will be basically just a  photo essay of some lovely flowers. 

Most of these photos were taken either within the Rough Tracks property or in the immediate vicinity. Apart from the first picture all were taken in heathy understorey, mostly in dry forest. 

Despite the name Black Wattle (and the fluffy flowers), this inhabitant of wet gullies
is not an acacia but Callicoma serratifolia, a member of the old Gondwanan family Cunoniaceae.
However it was named 'wattle' for the same reason as Australian acacias were. It grew
profusely around the new Sydney colony in the late 18th century, and its stems were
cut and woven into frames ('wattled' to use the old English term), then covered in mud
('daubed') to make walls for basic houses. Sydney's Black Wattle Bay is name for this plant.

Flannel Flower Actinotus helianthi is related to carrots and parsley in the Family Apiaceae.
If you enlarge the picture you'll see lots of small flowers clustered together in the centre,
surrounded by white bracts to attract pollinating insects; it's the same principle
as that adopted by the paper daisies. The bracts are soft and furry - ie flannelly!

Pale Pink Boronia Boronia floribunda; both names are appropriate as the lovely pale
pink flowers are indeed abundant. Both foliage and flowers are scented. It's a funny
thing about the scent of boronia foliage; some people find it pleasant, to
others it can be quite rank.

Peas of course are plentiful (and I've not forgotten I've promised to post a second installment on this very important family to follow this recent post). Here are a couple of representatives.

An 'eggs and bacon' Dillwynia retorta - one of many!

A bush pea Pultenea glabra.

Myrtaceae is another prominent family in any southern Australian bushland, not least because it contains the eucalypts which nearly always dominate. Here are a couple of attractive Myrtaceous shrubs.

Fringe Myrtle Calytrix tetragona is found well beyond the mountains too, but is
always a welcome sight. The flowers (usually pink rather than white, as here)
flaunt long misty stamens...

... but after the petals drop the red sepals are still striking.
This impressive stand was in the Megalong Valley, just down the hill from Blackheath.

Pink Kunzea Kunzea capitata

Family Proteaceae is probably best and most widely known for banksias, grevilleas and hakeas, but here are a couple of others which are integral parts of the Blue Mountains understorey. 

Broad-leaved Drumsticks Isopogon anemonifolius; the 'drumsticks' name refers to the
spherical cones of seeds which form after the numerous flowers drop.

Mountain Devil Lambertia formosa; this name could well refer to the wickedly sharp
leaf tips, but in fact it's for the distinctly devil's head seed cases (below).

This devil looks decidedly grumpy - perhaps because it had been recently burnt.

Goodeniaceae is a medium-sized family of some 400 mostly Australian species, 80% of which are in either Goodenia, Scaevola or Dampiera though I suspect they are often overlooked. Here are a couple of common members of the Blue Mountains understorey.

Goodenia bellidifolia, an erect herb which often flowers profusely after a fire.
See next caption for its name origin.

Blue Dampiera D. stricta, a lovely splash of colour, and named for the botanist-pirate
William Dampier. A lovely juxtaposition with Goodenia whose name honours the
Reverend Samuel Goodenough, Bishop of Carlisle, treasurer of the Linnean Society
and wowser of considerable note.

From here on - at least until we get to the orchids! - we're looking at just one example of each of several families.

Sourbush Choretrum candollei, family Santalaceae is a hemiparasite. That is, while
it photosynthesises (mostly via the stems) to trap its own energy from sunlight
in the form of sugars, it takes water and minerals from the roots of surrounding plants.
The tiny flowers are so abundant that the display is striking.

The fruits of Sourbush (from which it presumably derives its name) are
much larger than the flowers which produce them.

Silky Purple-flag Patersonia sericea, a large iris of the family Iridaceae,
Each flower lasts only a few hours, but many are produced on successive sunny days.

Mitre Weed Mitrasacme pilosa; a not very conspicous herb,
but its four-petalled flowers are distinctive.

Twisted Mat-rush Lomandra obliqua, whose oddly contorted foliage is unmistakeable.
Currently in the family Asparagaceae, though it has been included in the Xanthorrhoea family
and its own family Lomandraceae, among others

Lobelia dentata, a spectacular little flower that it's easy to be anthropomorphic about.

Slender Violet Hybanthus monopetalus, a pretty and delicate little violet which
appears to have only one petal. In reality it's just that the other four petals are very small.

Strap-leaf Bloodroot Haemodorum planifolium, Family Haemodoraceae.
Curiously this is also the kangaroo paw family though the resemblance isn't
immediately obvious. In Australia it is the only genus in the family that isn't
restricted to Western Australia.

Rush Lily Sowerbaea juncea is a somewhat 'scruffy' lily - due to the crowded flower
head - which is found in wet sandy sites in heath.

Which brings us to the orchids, for which my fondness is no secret. To avoid any suggestions of favouritism I'll present them in reverse alphabetical order - and of course it's purely coincidental that I thus leave my two favourites to last...

Veined Sun Orchid Theylmitra venosa. This slightly faded specimen was at the end of its
flowering period towards the end of December. It likes wet feet, in bogs and below cliffs
though this one was by the edge of the track down to Grand Canyon near Rough Tracks cabins.

In late October the distinctive tall stems of Spotted Sun Orchids Thelymitra ixioides
were everywhere, hundreds of them, including around our cabin.
However in the absence of sun this genus of orchids is most loath to open
and it took until almost the end of our stay to find a single partly open flower.

The only (sort of) open Spotted Sun Orchid that we found.

Tall Leek Orchid Prasophyllum elatum - and indeed it is!
This one, which we saw from the car while driving along a bumpy track, was
over a metre high. Many leek orchids flower most strongly following
hot summer fires, and both this species and the next were only found by
us in such situations.

Short-lip Leek Orchid Prasophyllum brevilabre, a much more
modestly proportioned orchid, generally less than 20cm tall. The flowers
are tiny but, being snowy white, are surprisingly conspicuous.

Tiger Orchid Diuris sulphurea (it also goes by several other common names),
a common and widespread orchid (it was a bumper year for them around Canberra too)
which we encountered throughout the high Blue Mountains.

Red Beard Orchid Calochilus paludosus. My affinity for this wonderful orchid will be evident
to anyone who knows me, though my own beard long since faded from red.
It was a good year for these beauties in the mountains too.

And finally, a truly magnificent orchid with an odd name - until you see it, and then how could it be called anything but a Flying Duck?

Caleana major is named for George Caley, an early naturalist-explorer of the
Blue Mountains who worked for Sir Joseph Banks. For those who speak orchidese,
the labellum, which is at the bottom of most orchid flowers - eg the beard in the previous
example - forms the duck's head here. The strap holding it (ie the duck's neck) nods in the
breeze. A male sawfly is attracted by the scent of the flower which mimics that of a
female sawfly in an amorous state, lands on the labellum which snaps shut and
temporarily traps the wasp. In his struggles to back out, he encounters the pollen-bearing
column. The reason for all this detail becomes obvious in the next picture.

We saw the sawfly, genus Lophyrotoma, struggling in the flower but sadly by the time I
retrieved my camera he was out. However he was clearly exhausted by his ordeal and spent
some time sitting on the triggered flower (which would soon reset). The pollinium - a sticky
package of pollen - is seen stuck to his back. It was an exciting moment; I'd never managed
a successful photo of an orchid pollinator before. The fabulous feathery antennae have
a big surface area to boost their sensitivity to the scent of pheromones.

The Blue Mountains are all you've heard - and more if you're interested in natural history, which is a fair assumption given that you're reading this. Go and see for yourself, and you could do a lot worse than to try the Rough Track cabins. Thanks for reading.

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