28 September. Not much to report today. It has been raining all day. In the morning we waited for bees in Solanum mauritianum but the rain kept them away. After a while, and without hope that the sky would clear, we decide to leave and start our drive back south. It is a long way to Brisbane (about 1,000 km from here), and perhaps we will have better luck with the weather tomorrow.
We stop in Finch Hatton gorge, at the base of Mount Dalrymple, which at 1,260m above sea level is one of Queensland’s tallest mountains. The vegetation is amazing and we reach a pool in the river called the Ring of Fire. An ominous board suggests caution while exploring the boulders around the gorge. Others have died while miscalculating the risks of navigating the slippery rocks and cold pools. Daniel, unfazed jumps in the water and explores a small waterfall. The name Ring of Fire comes from a plant that produces red flowers in a crown-shaped structure. Sadly is not flowering at the moment. We explore the trail a bit more and keep driving south.
It has continued to rain into the evening. The night surprises us while approaching the campground for tonight, which is located in a working farm south of Rockhampton. We are glad to pull over at last, as thick rain and fast trucks along the Bruce Highway make for a scary combination. In the campground, we eat an early dinner and go to bed. The camp kitchen has some very interesting decorations, and people here seem to like quite a bit Ned Kelly, the infamous outlaw.
27 September. It’s before 6:00am and we are waiting by the Broken River. We stand on the edge of a murky, slow flowing river guarded by tree ferns and lianas that touch the water surface. The muddy water hides a platypus somewhere. Bubbles raising to the surface and a cloud of mud in the water reveal the location of the almost mythical platypus. A small creature breaks the water surface, the colour of its fur barely distinct from the colour of the mud at the bottom of the river. Its duck-like bill chews rapidly, probably on invertebrates dug out of the bottom.
Before we can fix the binoculars or the camera it dives again. A little while later it re-emerges, its clawed paws stretched on the surface along with its flat tail giving us a glimpse just long enough to get a good view before the platypus dives again. We spend sometime admiring this extraordinary animal in silence. I think of the book I am reading (appropriately called Platypus Matters by Jack Ashby), and the story of how Europeans sought to settle the questions of whether the platypus lays eggs and feeds its young with milk, and, if so, what kind of strange mammal this is. Together with a handful of species of Echidnas (the hedgehog-like creatures that also lay eggs), the platypus forms an unusual branch in the family tree of mammals called the Monotremes. Platypus go by many names in different countries but is an animal well known despite its localised distribution and the fact that only one zoo outside Australia has a living platypus (San Diego Zoo). In Spanish the name is ornitorrinco.
If you squint you can see a platypus (ornitorrinco)
We pack and move to look for bees. We search first the montane forest, looking carefully in the few flowers that manage to grow in the understory of this dense forest. Palms grow at every gap in the canopy, and we see stag-horn ferns (another ‘platy’, Platycerium in the fern family Polypodiaceae) hanging onto every tree. These stag-horn ferns make their own hanging basket using modified leaves that catch debris and vegetation, and make long bifurcated leaves that extend like vegetal stag horns. Some of the ferns look so big that they seem capable to bring the smaller trees down with their sheer weight. A smallish goana (a large reptile also called monitor lizards) stays still by the water hoping we haven’t noticed it. We find some flowers and catch a glimpse of a bee. We stay still to see it foraging fast as lightning and zooming away in the vegetation in search for another rare flower. We wait for a while but the bee decides not to return.
We try our luck in the nearby pastures where a few farmers maintain cattle herds. The grassy mess of cattle farms has replaced here the ancient forest. Besides the grasses, several other non-native weeds make their home along the road. A spear thistle (Cirsium vulgare, Asteraceae) spreads its spiny leaves and shows off a purple inflorescence head. Mexican poppy (Argemone ochroleuca, Papaveraceae) grows here and there. In the 1930s, the Australian government leased land to young men on the condition of clearing out 35 acres of forest and transform it into cattle pastures. The exotic grasses and the cattle to go with it were considered more valuable.
Solanum mauritianum, a buzz pollinated species that is at home in cattle fields and disturbed sites
Along the dirt road, we spot our good-old Solanum mauritianum (Solanaceae). As other Solanum, this one loves the disturbance of the roadsides and pastures. We stop, and soon find the first bees. The sun is shinning and bees are busy buzzing the Solanum flowers for pollen. On the roadside we measure and photograph.
We are lucky enough to come across a territory guarded by male carpenter bees (Xylocopasp.). The male bees fight with one and other to defend a patch of Solanum, where the female bees come to collect pollen. They zoom around us and chase each other away. These are some of the most beautiful bees I have ever seen, and are restricted to Eastern Australia. The males of Xylocopa bombylans, have a metallic green-blue body that shifts to yellow-orange in the thorax. The iridescence of its exoskeleton is wonderful, and yellow hairs adorn their legs. The face carries an elegant ivory mask, and they are not shy or fearful of anybody entering their land. We spend a few hours observing these bees and studying their buzzes. This is a good day for the Buzz Bus!
In the evening we find a local campground, which used to be the school of the ranchers’ kids, and has now turned into a nice place to spend the night. We make a fire and enjoy a quiet evening under the stars. In the night, a rainstorm comes in and batters the roof of the Buzz Bus. I dream that the campsite is flooded and wake up to check whether we are at risk of being washed away. It looks fine, but the people in tents that were near us have had to move under the roof of the old school. The rain carries on all night.
