The mountains of the
Western Cape seem to be nothing but blue granite rocks; the veldt appears to
consist of uniform grey-green shrubs. That's if you look at it from a distance,
but move closer. No, that's not close enough. Squat down, on your knees, and look
carefully. See them? Thousands
and thousands and thousands of tiny, delicate, unique flowers. Aren't they
gorgeous?
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| Aristea dichotoma. Click on the photos to see bigger versions. |
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| Orphium frutescens. Look at the cute spider! |
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| Ruellia. This genus is closely related to the petunia. |
You're looking at fynbos,
the natural heathland vegetation that occurs in the Western Cape, mainly in the winter rainfall coastal areas
with a Mediterranean climate. The area is famous for its exceptional
biodiversity.
As a matter of
fact, it's also known as the Cape Floral Kingdom, and has been declared
a Unesco World Heritage Site. Unesco described the 553 000-hectare Cape
Floral Kingdom as "one of the richest areas for plants in the world. It represents
less than 0.5% of the area of Africa, but is home to nearly 20% of the
continent's flora. Its plant diversity, density and endemism are among the
highest worldwide, and it has been identified as one of the world's eighteen
biodiversity hot spots."
It gets better. Let's zoom in and focus on
the Kogelberg biosphere, one of the regions within the Cape Floral Kingdom, where
I spent my two-week holiday. Kleinmond, where my family lives, is one of four coastal
towns that are situated in the Kogelberg area.
If you look at this map, it's indicated by
number 2.
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| Credit: Wikipedia |
It's a narrow coastal plain that's squeezed
between the ocean and sandstone mountains that were created 300 million years
ago. They're home to more than 1880 species of plants, including 77 species
within the Kogelberg area that occur nowhere else on earth.
To put things into perspective:
- This is the most complex biodiversity spot on our planet. The second richest is the South American rainforest.
- The entire United Kingdom has
only 22 endemic species.
So I'm justified in saying it's just a tiny
bit very special, this place at the southern tip of Africa.
Most of the flowers
are small – so small that you need a macro lens to capture their beauty – but
others are big and colourful enough to turn the veldt into a cheerful quilt.
Different species flower in different seasons, which means you can enjoy them
throughout the year. I'm not a fynbos expert at all, but fortunately my sister
Thea and my niece
Magriet are both boffins. After I'd taken hundreds of photos, they sat with me (and the
Field Guide to Fynbos) or emailed me and identified them all. I told them about my fellow
bloggers in Nara as well as Minoru-sensei, who all love flowers.
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| The protea is arguably the most famous flower of the Western Cape. |
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| Protea |
I took most of my
photos in the mountains behind Kleinmond and in the
Harold Porter Botanical Garden. They're not very good; neither the camera nor the camerawoman was up to
the task!
I went on several walks, but let me tell
you about the first one with Thea. She's done every hiking trail in
South Africa, climbed mountains all over Africa and completed the Inca Trail in
South America, so I should've known what I was letting myself in for when she
said, "I'm going for a walk tomorrow morning at six. Do you want to come
along? Just remember it's my daily exercise."
No worries, I thought, I walk a lot myself.
No problem.
Ha bloody ha.
It was still dark when Thea, Kibo and
Kleinsus (youngest sister) set out. Thea maintained a brisk but easy-to-follow
pace on the level ground. When we reached the foot of the hill …
She calls it a hill. I call it a mountain.
What do you think?
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| Sunrise over Kleinmond and Walker Bay |
When we reached the large heap behind
Kleinmond, she slammed her engine into first gear and took off, leaving me
coughing in her dust. I observed her ascent with growing alarm. "Heck, no,
this won't do. It's a matter of honour. I'm ten years younger* than she is!"
I gritted my teeth, grabbed my camera and
galloped after her. Halfway up the slope my knees were tofu. Not abura-age (firm
tofu), but kinugoshi (silken tofu). Fortunately, at that exact moment, Japan's
seven lucky gods took mercy upon my soul and showed me a particularly pretty
fynbos that I absolutely had to photograph.
That took about five minutes, so I could
catch my breath.
After that I managed to spot another fynbos
every ten meters.
Finally I staggered onto the crest, where
Thea was waiting, smiling serenely like a Buddha on a mountain top. "I'm
sorry," I puffed, "but there are so many flowers and I really want to
take pictures for everybody in Japan and … Gaaa! Look at that view! How did I
get up here?"
"There are more flowers on that
side," Thea said, pointing downwards.
I gazed at the abyss, and the abyss gazed
back. Uh-oh. Experienced hikers will know that while it's more tiring to walk
uphill, it's downhill that really tests your thigh muscles, which have to act
as your brakes.
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| There she goes, always way ahead of me, drat! |
Suffice it to say that downhill I
discovered new fynbos species that haven't even been documented yet, and
therefore required meticulous attention and painstaking photography.
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| This was the downhill bit. That's my shadow. |
I also wanted to tell you about veldt fires
in the Western Cape, but I'll save that for later. I end this post with lots of
photos for the flower enthusiasts. Thea identified the flowers for me, so you
can rest assured that everything's correct.
Dankie, Thea, vir die stap en die kennis!
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| Lots of big tortoises in the veldt, hence that sign. |
