Girraween in Winter

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Banksia spinulosa var. neoanglica (New England Banksia) in full bloom beneath the granite boulders of Girraween

Here’s a few more pictures from Girraween Nation park. Being mid winter now, the changes from the summer months are subtle. Frost morning and the dry days have left the grass and bracken in the openings golden and russet toned but little else has changed greatly. Acacias, Banksias and Legumes take advantage of the cooler months to flower and will soon be followed by the main spring flowering as the frosty morning disappear. Change here is marked more by wet and dry, and the passing of bush fires. Following the wet summer and and lush growth which is now going crisp in the dry winter weather poses a greater risk for fires than usual of which several large ones are being fought right now around Queensland.

Banksia spinulosa var. neoanglica (New England Banksia).

The woody seed capsules of the New England Banksia waiting for the heat of a bush fire to open. Curious boulders among the Gum trees.

Looking out from the Castle Rocks that rise high above the tree-line, yellow acacias sp. flowering in the foreground. 

Leucopogon melaleucoides (Snow Bush) and Acacia venulosa (Veiny Wattle, Woolly Wattle)

Pultenaea hartmanii (Stanthorpe Pea) and tiny white fungi sprouting from a dead twig.

Patterns in the bark. The second reminds me of Edvard Munch's 'The Scream'.

The Scream.

Grazing roos.

The Underground Stream

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The smooth surface granite boulders covering the path of the underground stream, polished by years of rushing water.

The underground stream at Girraween National park is one place I didn’t get around to exploring until now, in mid winter. Its still rather warm though in the high teens, from what I hear, not too far off the pants summer weather back home. Spring is just around the corner and the spring flowers are what this national park is renowned for aside from its massive and curious granite features. The underground stream flows over a vast expanse of flat granite which has been eroded over tens of thousands of years into smooth polished curves and bowls where once just a thin crack existed. Huge boulders have broke off the face of the granite cliff face and the stream disappears beneath these but has eroded and polished away enough rock to climb through. The stream is no more than ankle deep now but walking through the forest to the along side the stream many small trees and shrubs were laid flat and bundles of twigs and grass hung in the tree a good meter or more above head height, a sign of how high and fast the water was rushing through at the peak of the flooding in January this year. Huge areas of grass and shrubs growing in the thin soils on top of the granite were rolled up like giant Swiss rolls by the force of the water.

The surface of the polished granite appears like leather compared to the coarse greyish unpolished stone. Lichens and minerals stain the under side of the granite shelf like a giant wave frozen in time.

The path into the park. The bracken browned by frosty mornings.

Granite boulders among the bush and  the peeling bark of a Gum tree.

Curved forms of the granite where Bald Rock creek first starts to carve its way down through the granite and a water fall where the stream disappears beneath the fallen boulders.

There are many large bowls which are carved out larger and larger during each flood by rocks caught up in the eddies within them which rush around like a washing machine. The bowls and the rounded rocks within them have a fancy geological name but whatever it is it has long since slipped from my mind.

A curiously unnatural feature. I guess it is where the huge expanse of granite, which was created by the slow cooling of a giant under ground magma chamber, cracked and was filled by subsequent lava. Don’t take my word for that.

Leionema rotund folium (Round-leaved phebalium) and Mirbelia speciosa subsp. Speciosa (Showy Mirbelia).

Because of the intermittent rainfall and subsequent intermittent flow of Australian streams and river, they form a series of interlinked pools and marshes rather than a continually flowing channel. That is, at least before the intervention of man clearing the forests and dredging and damming the streams to make the most of every last drop of water in a drought. Sheltered by the forest and stained by tannins these pools create some beautiful reflections.

Tougher Than I Thought

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A Stags Horn Fern growing quite happily in an unexpected place.

If you read my last post, it seems I spoke too soon. The Australian Fruit Picking Guide, the bible for backpackers looking for work, said there was a high demand for labour in Ayr and Bowen two days drive to the north. This would usually be the case but, unfortunately, a few factors conspired against my best laid plans. Firstly every one has a copy of the fruit picking guide and everyone wants to head north for the winter. Secondly the bananas growing regions a little further to the north had their fields laid flat by cyclone Yazzie putting even more pressure on the available work. Thirdly, as well as the cyclone’s damaging winds, the whole of Queensland, thanks to La Nenia, has had several months of flooding rains throughout the summer. This delayed the planting of the crops and therefore the harvest. The result being that I arrived to find all the backpackers full with people waiting around for the harvest to start, which could be two weeks or more. To get a job you need to be on a waiting list and to be on a waiting list you needed to be staying in a backpackers, which were all full. Ordinarily lazing around on a beach for a few weeks in the sun wouldn’t be such a chore but for now my priority is to save. The best option it seemed was to cut my losses and turn back south., back to Stanthorpe, back to the apples and back to the cold frosty mornings.

Cyclone Yazzie, not the most powerful cyclone although the winds were well over 200kmph, but one of the largest, with an ominous spiral appearance from the satellite image.

Regarding the Stags Horn Fern, a native to the warm, wet forests of the east coast. I have seen trees festooned with them in the warm damp air and dappled light of the coastal ranges as well as in the steamy glass houses at Kew. As a child I brought one as a pot plant which once removed from it perfect climate controlled glasshouse in Holland, it slowly turned yellow, went crispy around the edges and bit the dust. I suspect the central heating and lime scale in the water weren’t to it‘s liking. There also happens to be a rather fine specimen growing in the crux of a tree in the school yard opposite the orchard where I am pruning. The temperature in town was -7^oC the morning I took these photos and the Stags Horn Fern was growing quite happily out in the open. So it seems they are pretty tough after all.

As I like growing exotic plants back in the UK, it’s always interesting to see the limits to which exotic plants will tolerate and grow happily. Talk to any seasoned exotic plant enthusiast and you will find that ‘cold’ is not just ‘cold’. There is wet cold and dry cold, not to mention the duration. A few hours at -7^oC in the dry may not be as bad as a few days at -1^oC in the wet. Here the temperature regularly drops below freezing but never remains there for too long, and very little rain falls throughout the winter months. To try and coax one through a winter in the UK, it may have to tolerate many days of freezing and wet conditions. Finding the right micro climate is the key. I used to grow Echium pininana successfully through the winter planted close to a wall where the night storage heater was mounted on the inside. Enough heat made it through the wall to keep the worst of the frost away. If you can get this spectacular triennial plant from the Canary Islands through two winters it will produce towering cobalt blue spires of flowers. I suspect there will be very few gardens in England this year with Echiums in flower.

One of the largest Stags Horn Ferns I have seen growing in the frost free coastal town of Kerikeri in Northland, New Zealand.

So it seems most of this year in Australia will be spent in Stanthorpe. At leas I’ll get to see the seasonal changes of this part of the country, if not the whole country in little pieces. It seems the changes are quite subtle with the predominant vegetation being evergreen. The introduced tree species of the gardens and orchards give away the seasons.

Defiant of the cold is a large cactus tree standing rather incongruously amongst the bare apple trees.

My icy cherry picker and early rhyme frost. Fortunately at this latitude it soon warms up when the sun breaks the horizon.