A Blustery Thursday at Umtamvuna

The blustery winds sweeping over the Umtamvuna Gorge couldn’t dampen our spirits; for the Pondoland CREW, Thursdays are always pure joy. Though bright windows of clean blue sky beautifully illuminated the green grasslands and weathered stone below, the scattered ceiling of clouds drifting overhead still held the promise of rain. After making arrangements to meet at Blencathra, we reluctantly left the warmth of our cars to gather together for coffee.  Joining us for the day was Claire Oliver, who stepped right into the biting wind with us. With a freezing winter grassland and impending rain on the horizon, it was certainly going to be a real test of grit for anyone, but we were absolutely delighted to have her along for the ride.

After the rain

While waiting for everyone to finish their coffee, Tracy began to explore. Exploring never goes unrewarded, and right there on the sandstone rocks was the exquisite Polystachya pubescens. The dry grass embraced the small lithophytic orchids that radiated warmth from their burnt-yellow, bonnet-like flowers. The rain of the last few days was so wonderful and had arrived just on time. If you stood quietly, you could hear nature rejoicing, having waited quietly for the rain.

Polystachya pubescens

Fuelled by caffeine and sugar, we set off into the reserve. The earth was wet, new shoots rising from the sooty, carbon-rich soil. The icy south-westerly wind blowing was going to make photographing challenging, but challenge accepted. With our eyes glued to the ground, it wasn’t long before we spotted Disa baurii, rising like vivid iridescent flames straight out of the carbon-black earth. This spectacular terrestrial orchid relies heavily on fire to stimulate its flowering. The colour variation from specimen to specimen was amazing. Seeing these deep violet, soft lavender, and vibrant pink forms all blooming together against the winter drab was the ultimate reward for braving the cold. Always a welcome discovery is Gladiolus longicollis—these elegant, long-tubed treasures are pollinated by hawkmoths, which use their exceptionally long tongues to reach nectar hidden at the very base of the floral tube. For this reason, they only release their intense perfume after dusk to lure them in.

Disa baurii

Gladiolus longicollis

Low to the ground, we spotted the rare Lotononis bachmanniana. This miniature, delicate purple wonder is a highly specialised endemic. It is found only in the Pondoland-Ugu Sandstone Coastal Sourveld ecosystem. According to SANBI, the narrow-range endemic has already lost over 21% of its habitat to agricultural expansion and coastal development. Our second highly threatened endemic was Watsonia mtamvunae. It is restricted to the high plateau and steep sandstone slopes of the Umtamvuna Nature Reserve. Much like the Disa baurii we witnessed earlier, it responds to the “carbon-black earth”. It waits quietly underground, relying on the heat of a winter veld fire combined with the arrival of rain to trigger flowering. For us, the flash of pink was irresistible and we gathered around to admire this hardy Pondoland geophyte.

Lotononis bachmanniana

Watsonia mtamvunae

The mauve-pink flowers of Sopubia simplex added a softness to the landscape. Belonging to the Orobanchaceae family, it is a hemiparasitic plant. Although it has green leaves and can photosynthesise, it still taps into host roots via haustoria (highly specialised, root-like organs) for extra water and nutrients. This gives the plant access to additional resources—a rather clever strategy if you think about it. Adding to the magic of the day was Helichrysum ecklonis. Most of the flowers weren’t open yet, their tightly closed, papery white to pink-tinged bracts stacked neatly upward into crisp, pointed peaks. Once open, these large, solitary flower heads expand to encircle a bright yellow centre. Hilliardiella oligocephala were now in full flower, compact, shaving-brush-like clusters of intense purple tubular florets scattered across the grassland.

Sopubia simplex

Helichrysum ecklonis

Hilliardiella oligocephala

At first glance from a distance you could mistake the next flower we saw for an Othonna species, but on closer inspection, you can clearly see that it was not. Senecio coronatus’ relatively large yellow flowers are carried on tall upright, hair-covered stems, rising from large leathery obovate leaves. The genus name Senecio comes from the Latin word meaning “old man”, referencing the white, fluffy seed heads (pappus) that resemble a crown of white hair, and the epithet coronatus means “crowned”, which describes the terminal cluster of golden flower heads crowning the top of the upright stems.

Senecio coronatus

Pretty much the hair style for the day

Your heart skips a beat when you spot a Hebenstretia. Hebenstretia comosa has to be one of the most spectacular grassland perennials. Rising from a persistent woody rootstock, its slender, wand-like spikes carry densely packed, fiery red-and-white blossoms that open progressively from the bottom up. Much like the Gladiolus longicollis we had admired earlier, this species is strictly night-pollinated. It remains virtually odourless during the blustery day, holding back its energy until dusk falls. Only then does it release an intensely sweet, heavy perfume into the cooling air, utilising its luminous white column to guide nocturnal pollinators straight to its nectar tubes under the cover of darkness. It makes you wonder what a night of botany would deliver. While Hebenstretia dura and Hebenstretia comosa share the same distinctive flower spikes, they can be reliably distinguished in the field by examining their leaf margins and growth architecture. Hebenstretia dura develops into a relatively large, rigid, and heavily branched shrublet characterised by glossy dark green leaves with distinctly jagged, serrated edges that feel rough to the touch. In stark contrast, Hebenstretia comosa maintains a much more delicate, low-profile growth habit, typically sending up solitary, slender, wand-like flowering stems from a compact base, with small leaves that feature strictly smooth, toothless margins.

Hebenstretia comosa

A little caterpillar tucked between the leaves Of Helichrysum Pannosum

Amidst these botanical gems, our conservation focus quickly shifted when Tracy and Anne discovered a patch of the highly invasive Clusia rosea growing on and amongst some sandstone boulders. Recognising the immediate threat this aggressive alien invader poses to our pristine ecosystems, they wasted no time manually removing the plants. This fast-growing hemiepiphyte spreads rapidly as fruit-eating birds and mammals consume its fleshy seed capsules and disperse the seeds across wide distances. Once dropped onto a host plant or rocky outcrop, the seeds germinate easily and send down powerful aerial roots that form dense thickets, eventually overgrowing and strangling out the native vegetation.

Clusia rosea put into a heavy clear bag to be solarised

While pulling out the Clusia rosea from the sheltered sandstone rocky outcrop, we spotted a young Bersama swinnyi (Pondoland Bitter-bark). It was a magnificent find; it looked like a well-loved paintbrush, blanketed in soft, silky velvet hairs that covered the variant shades of tawny red and crisp green. Spotting this lone, exquisitely textured sapling tucked right into the protection of these boulders was a beautiful reward for our weeding efforts and a testament to the unexpected botanical diversity hiding across the reserve. Talking about paintbrushes, tucked into the crevices was Haemanthus albiflos. These hardy, evergreen bulbs are master opportunists, perfectly content to squeeze their thick, fleshy roots into the tightest sandstone fractures. Their distinctive, broad, strap-like leaves, tucked low to the stone, provided a lovely base for the plant’s hallmark white flower heads.

Bersama swinnyi

Haemanthus albiflos

Stepping away from the boulder cluster and back onto the open, plain, we came across an unopened Pelargonium luridum (Lurid Stork’s-bill). Its tall, solitary flowering stalk rose straight out of the ash, holding a cluster of sleepy buds that were stubbornly waiting for their moment. Up close, the entire stem and the teardrop-shaped buds were densely blanketed in a fine, glistening fuzz of silvery hairs, with delicate maroon-brown lines just beginning to blush along the ridges of the sepals. We could only imagine the soft pink that these tight, hairy buds would soon unfurl into. Albuca setosa were also waiting for the exact moment to open. The hessian-like fibrous tunic found around the bulb is made up of the hardened, weathered skeletal remains of old leaf bases that have broken down over time into a tough, interwoven mesh. This structure acts as a brilliant, fireproof shield, insulating the growing tip from the winter flames and keeping the developing buds safe until the perfect moment arrives for the outer green and white striped tepals to unfurl.

Pelargonium luridum

Albuca setosa

Looking over, the rest of the Pondoland CREW were actively examining a small patch of Centella glabrata var. glabrata. Belonging to the Apiaceae family, this species completely defies the classic creeping, round-leaved pennywort form that most people associate with the genus. Instead, this resilient perennial is strictly hairless, with wand-like stems. Its narrow, smooth, ribbon-like leaves are tightly held against the stalks, hiding simple umbels of tiny, modest greenish-white flowers. Growing right alongside the Centella was Thesium pallidum (Yellow Thesium), staging a quiet underground ambush. Belonging to the Santalaceae family, this slender subshrub is also a root hemiparasite.

A unique and colourful bunch of botanists

Centella glabrata var. glabrata and pollinator

Thesium pallidum

All around, bunches of Callilepis laureola were in various stages of budding. The exuberant, white, daisy-like flowers start out green and then whiten as they mature. In the bud stage, the tightly bundled ray florets face backward, exposing their pale green undersides before they unfurl to show off that contrastingly pure white face surrounding a deep, ink-purple centre. Seeing so many of these blooms is a true privilege, as the species is highly poached for muthi. The cold, windy winter’s day had turned into a wonderful botanical festival.

Callilepis laureola

Blue skies and rain clouds

Over the sandstone outcrop, Eriosema kraussianum (uBangalala) was in flower; this phenomenal dwarf geophyte belongs to the Fabaceae family. Standing barely 15 centimetres tall, its short, unbranched stems support compact terminal clusters of pale, lemon-yellow pea flowers that make it stand out. For centuries, traditional healers have heavily targeted the plant’s thick, woody underground rootstock to brew traditional tonics specifically used to increase male energy, stamina, and physical vitality. Waving in the wind, the solitary, pale, woolly stems of Helichrysum pallidum (Pale Everlasting) were crowned with compact, flat-topped clusters of luminous, creamy bracts. The large petiolate basal leaves are harshly rough and deep green on the upper surface, and the underside is covered in a woolly white felt.

Eriosema kraussianum

The blue sky had disappeared and the clouds were looking ominous

Helichrysum pallidum

The vivid red, spidery little brushes of a female Acalypha peduncularis sat nestled tightly among the sharply toothed, bright green leaves, creating a striking splash of colour. Interestingly, Acalypha are apetalous—they do not possess a single petal! A few steps along, coated in a dense, felted layer of pale, greyish-buff wool on both sides of their leaves, Helichrysum acutatum rose as a robust, silver-grey clump. Its erect stems were crowded with ascending foliage, terminating in dense, flat-topped heads of unopened, papery buds that looked like hard caps of miniature golden-yellow buttons. And then we saw a patch of male Acalypha peduncularis, each single spike a dense, caterpillar-like column, red tips of unopened male flower buds blushing crimson before they open to display small, fluffy, creamy-yellow anthers.

Female Acalypha peduncularis

Helichrysum acutatum

Male Acalypha peduncularis

Pseudopegolettia tenella (Bluebrush) offered a fantastic lesson in modern plant taxonomy. Historically it fell under the sweeping genus Vernonia (as Vernonia monocephala); a landmark 2016 global genetic and microscopic shake-up proved that true Vernonia species are strictly restricted to the Americas, completely exiling the genus from the African continent. To correct the evolutionary record, botanists erected the new regional genus Pseudopegolettia—a name chosen because these brilliant magenta-purple, brush-like terminal heads closely mimic (pseudo-) the unrelated, yellow-flowered genus Pegolettia. In the field, its defining diagnostic feature is that each individual, hairy stem bears a completely solitary, singular flower head at the very tip, unlike its multi-clustered relatives.

Pseudopegolettia tenella

As we happily wandered through the veld, there was a large patch of Afroaster hispidus (uDlatshana). Dozens of solitary daisies created a soft, luminous canopy that drifted in the wind. Their slender, lavender-pink petals unfurled perfectly to frame a dense constellation of brilliant, turmeric-yellow central discs. Seeing this massive, joyful patch of delicate colour triumphing so gracefully over the stark, soot-stained ground was wondrous.

Afroaster hispidus

We had already passed plenty of Ocimum obovatum in full bloom, but our eyes were instantly drawn to a single, breathtaking specimen of pure, brilliant white. The purity of the frilly petals perfectly accentuated the long, protruding stamens. The vibrant orange anthers sitting at the very tips of the curved filaments looked like tiny, bright embers floating against a cloud of clean white linen. Adding another splash of colour was Graderia scabra, our third hemiparasite; true to its name, both sides of its stalkless leaves are distinctly rough and scabrid to the touch.

Ocimum obovatum

Graderia scabra

As the Pondoland CREW, we dedicate so much time to documenting this landscape out of pure passion for its conservation. Our commitment to citizen science goes hand-in-hand with active habitat stewardship, and on this walk, that meant revisiting an old site infested with Lantana camara and Solanum mauritianum. Thanks to our past efforts, the area looked significantly better, but invaders were still trying to reclaim the space. Anne, Alf, Claire, and Tracy immediately stepped in, pulling, cutting, and digging out the stubborn roots. Protecting our indigenous flora from being choked out is an essential part of the conservation loop. We were actively wrestling with the second-to-last Lantana bush when the heavens suddenly opened, unleashing a dramatic downpour that signalled it was time to retreat.

Alf, Anne and Claire annihilating a Lantana camara

Even as we marched to get back to the cars, our inner botanist couldn’t resist a quick stop to photograph Euphorbia guenzii and a Chlorophytum sp. Nestled low against the ground, the tiny, intricate flower structures of the dwarf spurge stood in striking contrast to the delicate, white starry petals of the grass lily blooming right beside it. Drenched but absolutely unbowed, we said a hasty goodbye before jumping into the dry warmth of our vehicles.

Euphorbia guenzii 

Chlorophytum sp.