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Canberra-based naturalist, conservationist, educator since 1980. I’m passionate about the natural world (especially the southern hemisphere), and trying to understand it and to share such understandings. To that aim I’ve written several books (most recently 'Birds in Their Habitats' and 'Australian Bird Names; origins and meanings'), run tours all over Australia, and for the last decade to South America, done a lot of ABC radio work, chaired a government environmental advisory committee and taught many adult education classes – and of course presented this blog, since 2012. I am the recipient of the Australian Natural History Medallion, the Australian Plants Award and most recently a Medal of the Order of Australia for ‘services to conservation and the environment’. I live happily in suburban Duffy with my partner Louise surrounded by a dense native garden and lots of birds.

Thursday 22 April 2021

The Blue Mountains in Autumn

Not too long ago I did a 2-part post on the delights of the upper Blue Mountains, based on stays in summer and spring in the admirable Rough Track Cabins just outside of Blackheath in the upper Blue Mountains. We have just returned from our first Autumn visit there, and things are different enough to warrant a further post on what's happening now. I've made sure that I'm not repeating the same scenes or species, so to get the setting if you're not familiar with it you may wish to look at the previous posts. 

The weather was clear and sunny throughout our stay, not something we can presume in this part of the world, and we visited a series of the famed lookouts over the dramatic sandstone scenery, including some we'd not previously seen. Here are a few of our favourites, starting with the iconic 'Three Sisters' at Katoomba, albeit from a different angle from that usually featured. 

The 'Three Sisters' from Katoomba Falls Lookout.
Note that the supposedly Indigenous origin of the oft-cited 'three sisters' story
is clouded in extreme doubt; it seems much more likely to have been promulgated by
the tourist industry in the early 20th century.
Nonetheless the importance of the formation to local Indigenous people is undoubted.

Here are three panoramic views from different lookouts, but all of which look east across the mighty Grose Valley.

From Govett's Leap; he didn't jump, the term is from Scots lowp or loup, which does refer to
a jump, but in this case (and others in the Blue Mountains) means a waterfall.

From Victoria Falls Lookout (though in fact the falls are quite a walk from here).
As you may have divined, I love sandstone, for its formations and for the rich vegetation it supports.

From Anvil Rock near Perry's Lookdown. Fortunately you can't hear the whining drone which
was hovering above, operated by a couple of visitors. They are increasingly being banned
at national park sites, including much of the Blue Mountains.

This one however looks south from Katoomba Falls Lookout into the Jamison Valley; the Kedumba River, which tumbles over the Katoomba Falls, joins with the Jamison River far below.

And below the cliffs, as you'd expect and as we've alluded to, are waterfalls. This has been a good rainfall summer - in fact extreme at times - after some years of drought. Here are the delightful Witch's Leap Falls (tautology, as we've noted) below Katoomba Falls Lookout.

Looking across to the falls...

... and from below. There are lots of such unfortunate names
in the mountains, dating I suspect from early tourism campaigns.
And the impressive Katoomba Falls themselves, which drop some 150 metres into the Jamison Valley.
There are two segments to the falls which, despite good tracks and proximity to the main
Katoomba tourist drag, is often overlooked by visitors.

The forests below the cliffs contain pockets of Warm Temperate Rainforest, dominated by Coachwood Ceratopetalum apetalum and Sassafras Doryphora sassafras.

Temperate rainforest by Witch's Leap Falls. Some of this rainforest also
contains eucalypts, especially Brown Barrel Eucalyptus fastigata.

 
Old Brown Barrel among Coachwood.

A favourite Blue Mountains rainforest walk of ours is at Coachwood Glen, at the head of the Megalong Valley. I introduced it last time, but any bushwalk is different every time. Also this time, because it's autumn, there were lots of lovely fungi, but we'll meet them soon. A couple of scene-setting shots of the glen.

Old Coachwood roots growing over a mossy boulder.

Vines on Coachwood.
Ferns are an integral part of the rainforest understorey - of pretty much any rainforest in fact.
Below Witch's Leap Falls; Rough Tree Fern Cyathea australis in foreground.

Tender Brake Fern Pteris tremula covering the forest floor at Coachwood Glen.
The majority of the mountains however are clothed in dry forest, with some woodland in open areas like Megalong Valley.

Sunset on the track to Rough Track cabins; the dominant tree here is
Sydney Peppermint Eucalyptus piperita.


Silvertop Ash Eucalyptus sieberi growing along the ridge of Narrow Neck Plateau
which separates the Megalong and Jamison Valleys.

Scribbly Gum E. sclerophylla woodand, Megalong Valley.
These Scribbly Gums really are beautiful trees; this one was growing out of
sandstone at Perry's Lookdown.
And while we're on eucalypts, here are a couple more, both of which have their stronghold in the Blue Mountains as their names suggest.
 
Blue Mountains Mallee Ash E. stricta, in heathy forest near our cabin.

Blue Mountains Ash E. oreades is found in moister situations.
Much of the drier forests and the heathlands were burnt in the appallingly widespread and intense fires of the summer of 2019-20, unprecedented at least in European times. A large majority of the Greater Blue Mountains World Heritage Area was burnt in that conflagration. However the dry forests and heathlands are well-adapted to even intense fire and with a wet year recovery is progressing.
Regenerating burnt forest in the Grose Valley, from Victoria Falls Lookout.

Burnt banksia cones, Narrow Neck Plateau. The seeds dropped into the ash bed a couple
of days after the fire, when the ground had cooled, to start the regeneration cycle

Last spring there was major flowering in the burnt areas, and it continued through summer when we couldn't get there because of COVID in Sydney (for quarantine purposes the Blue Mountains were regarded as part of the Greater Sydney Area). Some was still evident even in April however.

Flannel Flowers Actinotus helianthi in burnt heathland at Perry's Lookdown.
This beautiful sandstone plant flowers occasionally in autumn but we found
it quite regularly in the burnt areas.
However the one thing I very much wanted to see on this trip was another flannel flower, the rare Pink Flannel Flower A forsythii which I'd never seen, and which normally grows only on remote harsh peaks. However this summer there was a mass flowering, presumably from long-buried seed, in readily accessible areas such as Narrow Neck. I'd followed the reports from afar, and was not optimistic that any would be left. My first investigations seemed to support that pessimism.
I found uncountable dried plants that had finished flowering on the bare exposed
Narrow Neck ridge line, but no fresh flowers....
...until I clambered down a slope where a few plants in sheltered situations were still in good flower.
'Delighted' doesn't cover my emotions at this find, one I'd never thought to see.
Just a few more autumn flowers, starting with three common banksias, many of which are autumn-winter flowerers.
Heath Banksia B. ericifolia. Like all banksias the flower spike comprises
hundreds of small flowers, many of which are pollinated by small mammals.

Silver Banksia B. marginata.

Hairpin Banksia B. spinulosa.

The spectacular Mountain Devils Lambertia formosa flower all year round,
though they peak in spring. Like banksias they are in the old Gondwanan family Proteaceae.
The devilish part of the plant is the woody seed case; see the previous post for a photo.

Platysace lanceolata, another summer-autumn flowerer.
And lastly not a flower, but a pretty spectacular plant anyway.
Glowing red bark at the base of Broad-leaved Geebung Persoonia levis, another Proteaceae.
The flaky bark of this small tree has been much prized by craftspeople, to the
detriment of some populations near to Sydney.
And as a I promised earlier, here are some lovely fungi from Coachwood Glen; fungi are a feature of autumn in many areas. It's one of the many fields I'd like to know more about, so if you think I've got any of these wrong, please let me know.
Coral Toothed Fungus Hericium coralloides growing on a dead section of trunk
of a Coachwood.

Turkey Tails Microporus affinis, a bracket fungus, growing on a fallen Coachwood branch.

Bonnets Mycena sp. forming a tiny moss garden on a fallen tree trunk.

Golden Scalycaps Pholiota aurivella growing out of a crevice in a Sassafras.

And this last one is a photo that doesn't deserve to appear in public, but the gorgeous glowing little toadstool does. My apologies to it and you.
Ruby Bonnet Cruentomycena viscidocruenta, a tiny little gem growing in very low light.
But, as you've probably noticed, no animals! I really took hardly any photos of them this time, though not for want of trying. Here's one however that partly compensates.

Sydney Mountain Darner Austroaeschna obscura resting on the path to Perry's Lookdown.
My thanks to Harvey Perkins for the id.

That's all on the Blue Mountains for now, but we'll probably be back. Don't wait though - if you're able to do so, get yourself up there. There's something to enjoy at any time of the year.


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2 comments:

Susan said...

Aha! As I'm sure you know, the word loup also means wolf in French. You often get geographical names in France referencing a 'wolf jump' (saut aux loups on the cliffs above the Loire at Montsoreau, for example). I wonder if there is a connection to the Scottish word? There are several examples of graffiti in the Loire Valley in Scots (famously several in the chapel of Chenonceau, but other places too) The Scots were here in past centuries, as royal bodyguards and others (and sometimes Scottish in name only, having French lands and titles). Of course, wolves are genuinely being referenced in many instances too, as they were a terrible problem (rabies) and the official wolf hunters were notorious (place names referencing a chantier often mean a wolf hunters camp -- eg chanteloup). Sorry -- just thinking 'aloud'...

The roots are amazing. And I'm not envious at all of the pink flannels. Ha!

Ian Fraser said...

Thinking aloud is a good thing - in the right environment of course. I hadn't made a connection with French loup, but in fact it turns out I shouldn't have done so either. The Scottish word (I've just learnt)is from Old Norse hlaupa, to leap. Lots of good info in your ponderings above, thank you! I'm sure the French loup is straight from Latin lupus, for wolf. Glad you like the roots over the rocks, they were very impressive indeed. Nah, the pink flannels weren't very exciting. Not really....