Chasing Spurges

We gathered at our usual spot for coffee, tea, and some homemade rusks—a typical warm, sunny winter’s day. This Thursday, however, was a little different. Gail was on a botanical quest. She had an assignment to locate, measure, and count a specific Erythrococca sp. nov.—a rather obscure genus of dioecious shrubs belonging to the spurge family.

A spectacular  spectrum over the gorge

The firebreak had been burnt recently, but there was nothing to see yet—just black, scorched earth. Fires are imperative for a grassland; they act as a rapid reset button, vaporising the dead mass. By pumping rich nutrients back into the soil and allowing sunlight and warmth to reach new shoots and seeds, the flames stimulate vital growth and germination.

Newly burned fire break

Gail had previously spotted a critically endangered Euphorbia bupleurifolia (Cycad Spurge) here, so we spread out, hoping against hope to find it again. While on the hunt, Tracy suddenly called out. She had spotted a Stangeria eriopus (Imfingo). This vulnerable plant belongs to a monotypic genus, meaning it is the absolute only species of its kind anywhere on Earth. It is mind-blowing, a stark reminder of how incredibly fortunate we were to be standing right there looking at it. Then—as if by magic, Gail found it again. There it was: the Euphorbia. How absolutely amazing it was to see this extraordinary little plant. Our hearts just skipped a beat.

Euphorbia bupleurifolia

Stangeria eriopus

As we walked through the sea of long, thick, dry winter grass, it whispered softly. Anne pointed out a fiery coral Pelargonium luridum leaf tightly curled inward against the drying winter wind.

Pelargonium luridum leaf

Before they knew it, Gail and Tracy stood alone at the top of the stairs zigzagging down into the gorge. Step by step, they carefully started to make their way down. It was hot on the side of the gorge; winter had temporarily forgotten them. They stopped partway down in the shade, to admire the coarsely toothed, distinctly discolorous leaves of Gymnanthemum corymbosum (Mountain bitter-tea), its pale, fluffy seed heads bursting from their stiff brown cups. Further down they spotted Helichrysum pannosum, showing off its golden everlasting flower heads and densely felted, grey woolly leaves.

Gymnanthemum corymbosum

Helichrysum pannosum

Once in the forest it was cool, and birds sang from the canopy high above. The lack of rain was telling—the sandstone wall, usually wet, was bone dry, patiently waiting for rain so the plants and moss could spring back to life. Tracy admired the bamboo-like Olyra latifolia scrambling through the undergrowth. Although it looked perfectly in place, it is not indigenous, and most likely arrived long ago through historic human movement and had since become naturalised. Growing along the forest floor nearby, they encountered a Rhoicissus species that is still being worked on.

Olyra latifolia

Rhoicissus species

Dorothy chose to stay at the top and explore the grassland. She found Diospyros villosa (Hairy Star-apple) covered in bronze hairs, giving it a velvety appearance. Winter-flowering Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha, the white of the petals was just beginning to show on the closed buds. The papery golden-brown Helichrysum herbaceum (Monkey-tail Everlasting) was still holding strong alongside Helichrysum adenocarpum subsp. adenocarpum (Fairy everlasting). The grassland was full of Ctenium concinnum, locally known as Twirly-Whirly Grass. What makes it so fascinating is that as the seed head matures, it curls backward into a dramatic, rigid corkscrew spiral, like a pig's tail.

Diospyros villosa
Photo credit Dorothy

Crassula perfoliata var. heterotricha
Photo credit Dorothy

Helichrysum herbaceum
Photo credit Dorothy

Helichrysum adenocarpum subsp. adenocarpum
Photo credit Dorothy

Ctenium concinnum
Photo credit Dorothy

Venturing further into the forest, Gail found the first Erythrococca sp. nov.—she posed for a photograph to indicate the size. Alf, Anne, Hilary, and Uschi could be heard getting closer. Being quiet is not a requirement of botany; in fact, chatting and laughter are imperative. Gail reached into her pack and retrieved a bright pink measuring tape. Alf, Anne and Tracy measured while Gail made notes. While taking measurements, Tracy pointed out a fascinating example of inosculation, where a woody climber had twisted so tightly around a host stem that their tissues were starting to fuse into one. All done, we made our way towards the river for lunch. Right along the path edge where a gap in the high canopy let in a sliver of light, we noted a Triumfetta pilosa. Its broad, lance-shaped leaves were striking, defined by deeply set, prominent veins and sharply saw-toothed margins.

Gail with her charge Erythrococca sp. nov

Anne measuring the diameter

Tracy and Anne measuring the height while
Alf supervised and Uschi looking on in the background

Inosculation on a Erythrococca sp. nov. 

Triumfetta pilosa

Hilary was already at the river perched on top of a rock in the sun. She pointed out some prints left in the sand. While investigating the prints we spotted Crassocephalum crepidioides (Redflower ragleaf) with peach-red nodding capitula. It really is not at all spectacular. It is hard to believe that this modest weed is widely prized as a nutritious leafy green called ebolo, or that its sap is used traditionally to heal wounds and soothe ulcers—though you have to be careful, as it can be toxic if it isn't prepared correctly. Uschi had sat down next to the soft, herbaceous Christella dentata a resilient species of terrestrial fern in the family Thelypteridaceae. Tracy clambered over some rocks and returned with a "takkie" (a little specimen we carry back for closer inspection) that turned out to be Keetia gueinzii (Climbing Canthium)—a woody liana that roots in the dark forest floor and aggressively climbs its way up into the canopy to find the light.

Print left in the sand

Crassocephalum crepidioides

Christella dentata

Keetia gueinzii

As we climbed out of the river bed, Anne pointed out a Pseudosalacia streyi (Pondo rock lemon). A beautiful small tree with large, deep green, leathery leaves, and this particular specimen was showing off a few round, globose fruits. Seeing it in the wild is always a privilege; it is a highly localized rarity found only in a tiny 500-square-kilometer pocket of our coastline, with fewer than ten known wild groups.

Pseudosalacia streyi

Walking beneath the towering trees, you couldn’t help but feel completely at peace. We saw Ochna natalitia (Showy ochna) a highly ornamental deciduous shrub belonging to the Mickey Mouse bush family, Ochnaceae. Carissa bispinosa (Bosnoemnoem) was full of dainty peach flower buds quietly waiting to open. Buxus natalensis (Large-leaved box). This compact under-canopy shrub looked perfectly content in the deep shade, its shiny, dark green leaves catching what little light filtered down. Coming up the stairs out of the gorge was slow going. Tracy spotted another large Black mamba and was glad this time that it was a good distance away. It is special to see such large specimens. Once at the top we stopped for a breather.

Ochna natalitia

Carissa bispinosa

Buxus natalensis

Deciding to cut across the grass instead of returning on the trail, Hilary delighted in Muraltia lancifolia (Umahesaka-onsundu) clinging to the bank of the dry stream. It was a lovely find — low, woody tufts decorated with tiny pinkish-purple flowers tucked tightly against its spiky, lance-shaped leaves.

Muraltia lancifolia

It was impossible to ignore the showy Argyrella canescens (formerly Dissotis canescens, locally known as Imfeyenkala). The whole plant seemed to shout “look at me!” with its square reddish stems, velvety grey-tufted leaves, and striking magenta flowers featuring distinctive two-toned purple and yellow stamens.

Argyrella canescens

Nearby, a scrambling Helichrysum panduratum displayed its unique fiddle-shaped leaves with their snowy white-woolly undersides. In the same area we admired Hypoestes forskaolii (Ribbon bush), its flowers in delicate shades of pink and white — beautiful, yet a plant to treat with caution as it is highly toxic to livestock. 

Helichrysum panduratum

Hypoestes forskaolii white and pink colour variation

Hypoestes forskaolii white and pink colour variation

At that point, Hilary spotted another large Black mamba, this one busy with nuptials and completely oblivious to our presence. We gave it a respectful distance. The bright red flowers of Alberta magna (Natal flame bush) stood out boldly in the verdant forest, and our last push up the hill took us past a Psoralea glabra (Narrow-leaf Fountain-bush) and Pelargonium luridum (Waving Pelargonium) in flower.

Alberta magna

Psoralea glabra

Pelargonium luridum

Our last push up the hill

All back together Uschi presented Dorothy with a “takkie” she had carried up from the forest. Without hesitation Dorothy identified it as Olea woodiana (Forest olive). Not too shabby. Another successful day in the field — full of rare finds, quiet wonders, and plenty of smiles. Whether we’re chasing obscure spurges or simply soaking up the beauty of this remarkable landscape, that’s what we do. After all, we are the Pondoland Crew.

Olea woodiana

Pondoland CREW
Gail Bowers-winter, Tracy Taylor, Hilary Henderson, Dorothy McIntyre,
Anne Skelton, Uschi Teicher, Alf Hayter

Structural beauty of a funnel-web

Honeycomb (tafoni) on Msikaba sandstone

Praying mantis ootheca

A Rainy Ramble Through Foster's Folly

We had decided to head to Foster’s Folly. On the way to the reserve, we encountered a new fence and gate—who had put it there and why, we could only speculate. When we reached the boundary of the reserve, Alf and Hilary jumped out and cleared the old, rusty barbed wire off the tracks. It had once formed part of the reserve fence but had been broken for many years and would no doubt remain that way due to a lack of funds. There had been an arson burn which, luckily, had not spread too far—most likely set intentionally by cattle herders wanting new grazing for their livestock.

Clouds over Foster's Folly

While drinking our warm beverages, we noticed Cape Vultures circling on the far ridge—a welcome sight that set the mood for the day. It had started to rain ever so lightly, so we slipped our raincoats on and strolled towards the sandstone cliff. Between the wind-sculpted sandstone formations, Helichrysum populifolium caught our eye with its heart-shaped, silver-grey leaves covered in fine cobweb hairs. The massive, widely branching, flat-topped floral arrays created large, soft, creamy-yellow clouds that gave off a wonderful honey scent against the backdrop of stunning gorge views.

Helichrysum populifolium

Stunning gorge views

New bright green shoots were pushing up between the burnt stubs, a vivid reminder of the veld’s incredible resilience. With its roots deeply anchored in the sandstone, the evergreen Gerrardina foliosa (Krantzberry) showed off tiny, inconspicuous, five-petaled white flowers. These were arranged in slender, erect stalks pushing out from between the glossy, finely toothed leaves.

Gerrardina foliosa

Sprawling untidily over the rocks, Crassula perforata added splashes of colour to the sandstone. Its perfectly strung-together, fleshy triangular leaves—tipped with a reddish-pink pinstripe tinge—were a beautiful sight. If you looked closely, you could see the tiny dimple-like spots along the red margin (hydathodes), which allow the plant to absorb moisture when groundwater runs dry.

Crassula perforata

While admiring the breathtaking expanse of the Umtamvuna River gorge, we spotted a fascinating ecological battle playing out right on the cliff edge. Standing tall against the deep valley backdrop was a Garcinia gerrardii (Forest Mangosteen), but it was not alone. The tree was heavily hosting massive, rounded crowns of the indigenous mistletoe, Viscum obscurum. The visual contrast was stunning: the tree’s dark, leathery green foliage was completely engulfed by exploding clusters of vibrant golden-yellow and deep russet-orange mistletoe stems. To the right, a ghost-like skeleton of old, dead mistletoe branches rattled in the gorge wind—a vivid reminder that while these parasites draw life from their hosts, it is a delicate, precarious balance of nature.

Viscum obscurum

Further along the edge in a thicket we found Erianthemum dregei (Silky Matchflower). It belongs to the Loranthaceae family—the true showy mistletoes—and represents a completely different parasite family from the previous Viscum obscurum. Growing alongside it was the spectacular Rangaeris muscicola. The name muscicola is a combination of two Latin words: muscus meaning “moss” and the suffix -cola meaning “dweller.” Because its microscopic seeds lack food reserves, they are completely dependent on thick, damp cushions of moss to trap moisture and harbour the essential fungi needed for germination. It is almost always found anchored inside mossy blankets on trees and boulders. Many would simply walk past the jolly yellow Osteospermum imbricatum. 

Erianthemum dregei

Rangaeris muscicola
Photo credit Gail

Osteospermum imbricatum

Looking out over the gorge, it was difficult to ignore the tangles of golden-yellow spaghetti belonging to a Cassytha species. We find two species here. Cassytha filiformis has long, loose flower spikes and produces white or translucent green berries; it typically grows in open sand dunes and warm savannas further north. In contrast, Cassytha pondoensis features short, tightly clustered flowers with tiny rusty hairs, bears bright red fruit, and is strictly localised to the sandstone cliffs and gorge forests of the Pondoland region. Right next to the unfortunate Loxostylis alata covered in the Cassytha species was Euclea natalensis, (Natal Guarri), with its dark, glossy leaves and strikingly wavy, ruffled leaf margins. The velvety, rust-tinted new growth added a richness. Its roots are historically prized for yielding the rich black dyes found in traditional Zulu basketry, while its antimicrobial twigs serve as highly effective natural toothbrushes—leaving us with plenty of reasons to smile.

Cassytha species

Euclea natalensis

We're not lost we're botanising

Growing in the shade was Mikania natalensis. There is a quiet elegance to the way its soft, cream-coloured flower clusters draped over the other plants. We had finally reached the entrance to Foster’s Folly, our botanical Narnia. We muddled around waiting for everyone to catch up, but for some the anticipation was too much, so we started to explore. Almost immediately, the glowing orange-red leaves of Clutia pulchella (Lightning Bush) stole our attention with a flash of colour, taking us immediately to a happy place.

Mikania natalensis

Clutia pulchella

Entering Foster’s Folly is not to be rushed. We took carefully placed steps to avoid standing on botanical treasures. Crassula sarmentosa var. sarmentosa (Trailing Jade) cascaded over rocks and grew from the moss. Clusters of star-shaped flowers intricately painted with pink stripes drew us in. The brilliant scarlet-red apothecia—the spore-producing reproductive structures of Cladonia didyma (Southern Soldiers)—stood out like tiny beacons against the earth. It is a vital pioneer species that grips directly onto the sand and weathered rock, slowly building up a thin organic layer of soil over centuries so that other plants—like Crassula—can eventually take root. Caputia medley-woodii, cloaked in a thick, dense coat of white felt, revealed fleshy, egg-shaped leaves that were actually a very dark blackish-green beneath.

Crassula sarmentosa var. sarmentosa

Cladonia didyma

Caputia medley-woodii

Clinging tightly to the bark was Mystacidium venosum, (Winter Tree Orchid), which hosted a spectacular spray of pristine white flowers. Their long-spurred, icy stars waited silently for dusk to release their sweet, heady perfume to lure pollinating hawk moths through the dark forest understory. Anne, determined to have Dorothy with us, guided her over and through every obstacle.

Mystacidium venosum

Fingers of moss reaching out

Dorothy chose a lunch spot, watching over us as we made our way across the rocks. As we went, the bruised leaves of Pelargonium capitatum (Kusmalva) released an intensely sweet rose fragrance while we walked through a grove of Psoralea glabra (Narrow-leaf Fountain-bush), which was full of beautiful pea blossoms that flashed brilliant violet against the deep green, needle-like foliage.

Dorothy watching over us

Pelargonium capitatum

Psoralea glabra

A sea of Smilax anceps (Leg-ripper) lay ahead of us, so Anne, Hilary, and Uschi decided to go no further.  Looking at Anne’s scratched legs, we could understand why — she had clearly been at war with the vines. Alf, Gail, and Tracy pushed on, determined to reach the edge—a decision that was rewarded with an incredible view. As the rain fell and a Jackal Buzzard soared overhead, we ate lunch. Before making our way back, we admired a near-threatened Eugenia verdoorniae (Small-leaved Myrtle), a dense, much-branched shrub, and Tarchonanthus trilobus (Broad-leaved Camphor-bush) with its beautiful bi-coloured foliage. The clusters of flowers were beginning to mature and take on the characteristic woolly texture that develops during fruiting. Walking through a grove of Strelitzia nicolai (Natal Mock Banana), Gail spotted a vulnerable Encephalartos natalensis (Giant Cycad). Growing from the forest litter Carissa bispinosa (Forest num-num), the tiny, bright scarlet berries are very small compared to its large cousin, Carissa macrocarpa. 

Ta da!

Eugenia verdoorniae

Tarchonanthus trilobus

Gail in a grove of Strelitzia nicolai next to
a Encephalartos natalensis

Carissa bispinosa
Photo credit Gail

Out of Foster’s Folly and back in the grassland, we came across the remains of a fire and a porcupine—a grim reminder of the poaching that occurs in the reserve. Tragically, scenes like this are becoming far too common. Aspalathus chortophila (Tea Bush) and Erica cerinthoides (Fire Heath) added brilliant flashes of yellow and red to the winter grass. In the freshly burnt section, Gerbera ambigua (Botterblom) was a wonderful sight. Their stark white petals—vibrant pink underneath—and densely hairy stems are often the very first signs of life to push through the ash after a fire. We spotted a Nuxia floribunda (Forest Elder) tightly packed with thousands of tiny, sweetly scented, creamy-white flowers like mist against the sky. A lone flower bud of Anemone afra (Windflower—daughter of the wind) caught our eye.

Aspalathus chortophila

Erica cerinthoides

Gerbera ambigua

Alf, Gail, Uschi and a Nuxia floribunda

Nuxia floribunda

Our first Anemone afra
Photo credit Gail

Anemone afra

Walking back to the cars, Dorothy noticed the delicate Tulbaghia acutiloba (Wild Garlic). Triggered into life by the heat of the fire, its trumpet-shaped khaki flowers were already open, each displaying a bright, fleshy orange-red ring at its centre. Lopholaena dregeana (Blue Fluff-bush), a highly specialised grassland plant, was named in honour of the famous 19th-century German botanical collector Johann Franz Drège. Dorothy’s keen eyes also picked up Gnidia coriacea and Gnidia nodiflora. As it turns out, these Gnidia species are highly toxic and taste terrible to animals, ensuring they grow completely unbothered.

Tulbaghia acutiloba
Photo credit Dorathy

Lopholaena dregeana

Gnidia coriacea

Gnidia nodiflora

The last flower before the cars was Moraea spathulata, which has been abundant this year. Back at the cars, Gail treated us to much-appreciated chocolate before we said our goodbyes and headed home.

Moraea spathulata

Pondoland C.R.E.W.
Alf Hayter, Uschi Tiecher, Hilary Henderson, Anne Skelton, Gail Bowers-Winters,
Dorothy McIntyre, Tracy Taylor

The heart of Umtamvuna

Till next week!