Cascades at Western Heights. 12 February 2026

With the previous week’s temperatures better suited to cooking in an air fryer than botanizing, our Pondoland CREW group longed for gentler conditions. Anne wisely suggested Cascades at Western Heights — a place where clean, falling water might cool both body and spirit. Costumes were packed, just in case. And as if that were not reason enough, Cascades offered the rare gift of both grassland and forest — two worlds meeting — promising a day rich in discovery for those willing to wander slowly and look closely.

We had not visited the area for some time, and with months of heavy rain behind us, uncertainty accompanied our anticipation. Yet, with two Jimnys and quiet confidence, we pressed forward. The grassy tracks were unkempt and puddled, and Anne’s Jimny powered through the shlooshy water-filled hollows with admirable determination — a moment Gail regretted not capturing.

The day opened with avian brilliance. A European Roller flashed its impossible blues against the morning sky, followed by Barn Swallows, their elegant forms stitching invisible threads between earth and air. A herd of cattle stood watchful in the distance — magnificent animals, though their presence within a protected reserve carried an uneasy reminder of the pressures faced by these fragile ecosystems. Nearby, a collapsed barbed-wire fence, now rusting into the earth, had been repurposed by swallows as lookout perches — nature adapting, as it always does.

After greetings, tea, and shared biscuits, we descended the hillside. Dorothy, ever generous in her knowledge, pointed out the subtle but diagnostic differences between Indigofera abbottii and Indigastrum fastigiatum, reminding us how easily assumption can mislead the untrained eye.

Soon we were immersed in colour. The grassland was alive with pink — a palette that would have delighted Rachel, Gail’s daughter. Polygala amatymbica and Polygala hottentotta lay scattered amongst Watsonia densiflora, while Argyrella canescens — still known on the Red List as Dissotis canescens — added its soft blush to the slopes. The delicate flowrs of Hybanthus enneaspermus, Tephrosia macropoda subsp. macropoda, and the carnivorous Drosera madagascariensis contributed their own subtle hues. Nearby, Hesperantha baurii and Zaluzianskya angustifolia completed the scene, together transforming the grassland into a living mosaic of pink.

Amongst rocks entwined with Smilax anceps, we found Kniphofia laxiflora, its presence a quiet indicator of intact grassland ecology. Other species revealed themselves in succession: Searsia pondoensis, Exochaenium natalense, Exochaenium grande, Pachycarpus grandiflora, Psoralea glabra, Buchnera dura, and Melasma scabrum.

At the waterfall, the landscape shifted. Here, water shaped everything — rock, soil, and life itself. Mermaid Tracy, radiant and entirely at home in the cool cascade, reminded us why we had come. The pool, however, was hers alone that day.

Along the damp embankments, Disa tripetaloides flowered quietly amongst ferns, nourished by the constant seepage of water. Nearby, tiny carnivorous Drosera madagascariensis thrived in saturated pockets, their glistening traps waiting patiently for unsuspecting prey.

Entering the forest was like crossing a threshold into another ecological realm. There, in delicate flower, was Liparis bowkeri, an orchid easily overlooked but unforgettable once seen.

The force of recent rains was written clearly in the landscape. Debris hung tangled high in branches, far above our heads — silent markers of water’s immense power.

Nearby, Plectranthus saccatus subsp. pondoensis flowered in soft mauve tones, while Clivia robusta held heavy seed heads — evidence of past flowering and future generations.

Near the rock pools, Cassinopsis tinifolia and Maytenus cordata were in flower. It was here that Tracy, balancing carefully on a boulder, followed the line of a creeper threading through the branches. Her persistence revealed Emplectanthus dalzellii — a rare and endemic climber. This was the day’s defining moment: the reward given only to those who observe closely and question what they see.

Along the stream, Hypoxis angustifolia lit the margins with small yellow flowers, while high on an inaccessible rock face, Streptocarpus formosus flowered beyond reach — a reminder that some beauty is meant simply to be witnessed, and not photographed unless one had a zoom lens.

Asparagus setaceus had set seed, its small green spheres turning black before falling — continuing a life cycle.

Further along, growing epiphytically on the trunk of a waterberry, was Cyrtorchis arcuata subsp. arcuata, a magnificent orchid perfectly adapted to life above the forest floor.

As we moved upstream, the signs of disturbance became impossible to ignore. The embankments were eroded, worn down by repeated cattle crossings. These grasslands, once pristine, now face ongoing pressure from grazing, development, and insufficient awareness of their ecological importance.

Grasslands are among the most threatened ecosystems on earth — and yet they are home to some of the richest plant diversity per square metre.

Later, as the sun lowered, the grasslands once again revealed their treasures. Aspalathus gerrardii, Argyrella canescens, Exochaenium grande, and the delicate Exochaenium nana glowed in the softening light.

Nearby, Uschi and Dorothy were deep in study, examining a small aloe with their hand lenses. Their persistence confirmed it as Aloe linearifolia, growing precariously alongside a cattle path — its survival balanced between resilience and vulnerability.

As the day drew to a close, Cascades had given us more than species lists. It had reminded us of the intricate relationships between water, grassland, forest, and time. Of resilience and fragility. Of discovery and loss.

As the sun dipped lower and the day drew to a close, Cascades had given us more than a list of species. It had reminded us of the delicate balance between water, grassland, and forest, of resilience and fragility, and of the quiet rewards that come to those who look closely. Botanizing here is not simply about collecting names — it is about witnessing the life that thrives when we pause, observe, and appreciate. And as always, we left with hearts full, carrying the promise of return.

"Every plant we meet is a teacher; every flower a reminder that the smallest details hold the greatest wonders."

Emplectanthus dalzellii
APOCYNACEAE
Rare
South African endemic

Indigofera abbottii
FABACAE
South African endemic
Photo credit:  Dorothy

Uschi, taking a close look at the details of the plant.  Here's a true botanist.

Searsia pondoensis
ANACARDIACEAE
South African endemic
Photo credit:  Tracy

Kniphofia laxiflora
ASPHODELACEAE
South African endemic
Photo credit:  Tracy

Hesperantha baurii subsp. baurii
IRIDACEAE

Anne dissecting a flower Pachycarphus flower.
Open-flower surgery.

 

Pachycarpus grandiflorus subsp. grandiflorus
APOCYNACEAE
South African endemic
Photo credit:  Dorothy

Psoralea glabra
FABACEAE
Narrow-leaf Fountain-bush
Photo credit:  Dorothy

Tephrosia macropoda var. macropoda
FABACEAE

Disa tripetaloides
ORCHIDACEAE

Hypoxis angustifolia
HYPOXIDACEAE
Photo credit:  Tracy

Plectranthus saccatus  subsp. pondoensis

LAMIACEAE

South African endemic

Cassinopsis tinifolia
ICACINACEAE 

Liparis bowkeri
ORCHIDACEAE

Gail enjoying the cool shade beside the waterfall at lunchtime,
grateful for the quiet relief offered by water and forest.
Photo credit:  Tracy

Maytenus cordata
CELASTRACEAE

Oldenlandia tenella
RUBIACEAE
Photo credit:  Tracy

Our swimming pool.

Anne trying to get Uschi a fern leaf.

Phlegmariurus verticillatus
LYCOPODIACEAE

Alf carefully photographing the protea.

Protea roupelliae subsp. roupelliae
PROTEACEAE
Photo credit:  Alf

Satyrium trinerve
ORCHIDACEAE 

Photo credit:  Dorothy

Cyrtorchis arcuata subsp. arcuata
ORCHIDACEAE

Exochaenium grande
GENTIANACEAE

Dissotis canescens
MELASTOMATACEAE

Melasma scabrum
OROBANCHACEAE

Aloe linearifolia
ASPHODELACEAE
South African endemic

Tracy and Uschi looking at Aloe linearifolia.

Gail and Anne's Jimny's parked along side a derelict Parks Board "fence". 

Tracy telling the cows to please stay out of the reserve.

The cattle path.
Save Western Heights.

Pondoland CREW

Maggie Abbott, Uschi Tercher, Dorothy McInytre, Anne Skelton, 

Gail Bowers-Winters, Tracy Taylor, Alf Hayter and Hiliary Henderson.

 

Left of The Shoot near Hazel Ridge

Smedmore had been so generous the previous week that a return felt inevitable. Or so we thought. Gail suggested we explore more unfamiliar areas,  with one hopeful objective in mind: Rhoicissus sp. nov. Surely, if all the other Rhoicissus species were flowering, this elusive one would be too.

We met at Beacon Hill, passed through the Broadmore gate, and made our way up to the Hazel Ridge gate, where we turned left. Following Anne, we moved through grassland dotted with flowering orchids before stopping to park our Jimnys at a spot that demanded pause. A large rock beneath a Syzygium cordatum offered the perfect place to sit, and as tradition dictates, we began the day with tea and biscuits.

Habenaria falcicornis 
ORCHIDACEAE
Photo credit:  Tracy

The view was unapologetically Out of Africa: the Transkei stretched beyond, a river traced its way below, and the landscape stole one’s breath with ease. It was nearing midday and already a scorcher. The early cloud cover had vanished without mercy, leaving no shade to hide from the heat. Eventually, we abandoned this idyllic perch and decided to drive closer to a gully where trees promised some respite and botanical interest along its embankments.

Reaching it, however, proved easier in theory than practice.

We tramped through long, thick grass and soon found ourselves entangled in a thicket of Smilax anceps, Ochna, and a Gymnosporia in full flower. The Gymnosporia stopped us in our tracks. Its branches were heavily laden with blooms, and we circled it slowly, admiring and debating, wondering which species it could possibly be.

Ochna natalitia
OCHNACEAE
Photo credit:  Tracy

Tracy sitting underneath the shade of a tree with Smilex anceps.

Our grand three octogenarians botanising in the midday heat.
Maggie, Dorothy and Uschi.

The grassland offered its own rewards: Isoglossa ovata, Indigofera hilaris, Convolvulus natalensis, and Cycnium racemosum revealed themselves to those patient enough to look closely.

Isoglossa ovata with a bag worm attached. 
ACANTHACEAE
South African endemic

Indigofera hilaris var. hilaris
FABACEAE
Photo credit:  Dorothy

Sisyranthus virgatus
APOCYNACEAE

Rafnia elliptica
FABACEAE
South African endemic

Cycnium racemosum
OROBANCHAECEAE

Monsonia natalensis
GERANIACEAE
South African endemic
Photo credit:  Tracy

Rubia cordifolia subsp. conotricha
RUBIACEAE 

The pace was slow and the heat relentless. The temperature had climbed to 34°C, thick with humidity. The gully appeared close—almost teasingly so—but like a mirage in the desert, it remained inaccessible due to the steep terrain. Along its edge, as always, lurked Smilax anceps. This thorny creeper has a particular talent for embedding its barbs into human skin and clothing alike. Uschi, whose clothes bore the brunt of it, exclaimed in frustration that she would rather it had torn her skin. Gail’s cool cotton shirt did not survive the encounter either and with tears and blood she declared it beyond saving by day’s end. Photos were taken on phones that repeatedly shut down, their screens warning that the devices were simply too hot to function.  

Notice on Gail and Tracy's phone.  

Maggie kindly lent Gail her hat, offering much-needed extra coverage as the sun beat down relentlessly. We all found ourselves wishing we were in England. Biting flies and stinging nettles completed the day’s challenges, making this our least favourite excursion—though still botanically rewarding.

Along the gully’s edge we recorded Neocussonia umbellifera in flower, Osmunda regalis, Phyllanthus myrtaceus, Polygala gazensis, Tragia glabrata var. glabrata, and Rubia cordifolia subsp. conotricha. Unable to descend further, we headed uphill and found two trees willing to shelter us while we ate lunch. Thoughts quickly turned to ice creams and milkshakes, and the all-female group agreed this was exactly how the day should end.

Osmunda regalis
OSMUNDACEAE

Phyllanthus myrtaceus
PHYLLANTHACEAE

Polygala gazensis
POLYGALACEAE
Pondoland Centre endemic

Tragia glabrata var. glabrata
EUPHORBIACEAE
Stinging Nettle Creeper

Convolvulus natalensis
CONVOLVULACEAE

Galopina tomentosa
RUBIACEAE
South African endemic

Still, plants had the final word. Sisyranthus virgatus was found, along with Galopina tomentosa, with male and female flowers on separate plants, and Monsonia natalensis. How one wishes for eyesight like a loupe, to truly appreciate the fine floral details visible only through magnification.

Sisyranthus virgatus
APOCYNACEAE

Gail finding a lovely tree to sit on and photograph flowers.
Photo credit:  Tracy

As we began our slow return, we realised Maggie was no longer with us. We found her lying in the grass—she had stumbled while sitting among rocks. Thankfully, she had not struck her head, though her arm was bleeding. Anne took her rucksack, Gail took her hand, and together they guided her back to the car.

Respect must be given to our three octogenarians who braved the elements and seized the day. It was Dorothy who finally confirmed the identity of the flowering Gymnosporia as Gymnosporia heterophylla, producing pressed specimens and matching them with quiet satisfaction.  “Normal” women of this age might have been at home, a pet on their lap, cake within reach, enjoying a cool room. Not ours. Ours are out in the sun, scrutinising every flowering plant, treating Thursday’s flora like a living crossword puzzle—and solving it, one species at a time.

Gymnosporia heterophylla
CELASTRACEAE

Dorothy's specimens.

Dorothy's photo and caption.

Pondoland CREW.
Gail Bowers-Winters, Ann Skelton, Uschi Tercher, Dorothy McIntyre,
 Tracy Taylor,  Maggie Abbott and Hiliary Henderson.

“Botany teaches us to slow down, to look harder, and to listen longer. In the end, it is not comfort we remember, but the plants that stopped us, the questions they asked, and the people who stood beside us while we searched for answers.”