Woodhill Diary

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Thursday 28 December 2006

Alice and I enjoyed our walk yesterday so much that we took Miranda out again today for a longer stretch. I took a few moments to wander along Coast Road for 100 metres or so to check whether the Muehlenbeckia in the forest proper was the same as that growing out on the dunes ( M. complexa), or whether it might be M. australis. Alice and Miranda headed towards the beach.

Now it's quite clear that this area of the bush is a no go zone for motor bikes, and the reasons are also quite clear. If you're riding a horse, the last thing you want is a motor bike roaring across your track or overtaking you.

Also, if you have a look at Coast Rd to the north of the parking area, you will see that much of the road has been destroyed for pedestrians and horses by a series of 300mm deep and 3-5 metre long corrugations generated by unofficial motorbike use.

Motor bikes have their own designated area about 3 km up the coast off Inland Rd.

The whole area used to be fenced off from the road, with equestrian keyholders gaining access through locked gates. But that's lasted only until the first guy arrived with a pair of wirecutters.

There's a sign warning that survellance cameras operate in this area, but the creeping decay that characterises the CHH maintenance in the forest means signs might as well not exist.

New signs compete for attention with old ones in an environment that says nothing matters anyway. How would you recognise someone in full motorcycle kit anyway, and if you recognised him/(her?), what enforceable constraints would operate away from public roads.

We'll meet these guys later as they scream around on the dunes.

Now most of the pines have trunks which are quite bare of passengers - perhaps some Muehlenbeckia scrambling up the trunk and that's about it. So I'm interested to see one tree among it's undressed mates playing host to a hounds tongue. A little further along, what I at first take to be a young rata is making its way up another trunk. On the other hand, it might just be a collection of juvenile fronds of the leather leaf fern (Pyrrosia eleagnifolia), whose mature fronds can also be seen on the same trunk.

So how does this sort of thing get started? The trees have been there for a long time, and, still, just one or two out of thousands play host in this way.

leather leaf fern

A slightly out of focus shot of the underside of the leather leaf fern. At first glance you might take this fern for its almost-lookalike, the lance fern, but the lance fern frond is pointed, and the sori are darker and differently patterned.

underside of lance fern (Rangemore Track)

I confirm the Muehlenbeckia in here is M. complexa and head out to the beach to rejoin Miranda. As I leave the pines and head out into the open dune area I pass a flax bush that is in the process of getting covered by the aforesaid M. complexa.

I stop for another look at the tauhinu flowering beside the path. A magnified look at these flowers from yesterday's pictures has given me a new regard for them. They're really quite beautiful.

The beach is sunny with a light mist obscuring the far cliffs, with the usual Muriwai cloud pattern

Only yesterday I was enjoying the fact that there wasn't a bluebottle (Portuguese Man o' War) jellyfish to be seen anywhere and I didn't need to keep such a close eye on Alice in consequence. This tide there are thousands and I'd want a good wetsuit cover to be out there swimming today.

This is about lifesize, but it's a big one. Most are about a third this size. On contact with skin, they create an intense burning sensation, and if one is sensitised to the poison, hospital care may be indicated. The unpleasant feature of the toxin is that each time you get stung you become increasingly sensitive to it. They are actually a colony of animals that work together. The stinging part is the long thin thread that dangles down in the water below the float.

Bill Bryson in his book Down Under makes reference to them. When he encountered them on an Australian beach he looked them up in Volume 19 of "Horrible Ways to Die in Australia"

Also coming in on this tide are a large number of violets. These are about one quarter to one eighth the size of the picture. They're not a common shell and spend much of their lives at sea, floating on the surface.

Miranda and Alice are just up ahead and Alice heads towards me as soon as she spots me.

I love that dog. We walk up to join Miranda, and Alice heads down towards the sea - and gets caught out by a fast-moving wave.

What was that, and don't do it again!

Along the beach a little, we come to a weathered piece of board still sporting an electrical fitting and even more outlandishly, a still unbroken electric lightbulb.

photo by miranda woodward

Miranda discovers that there's a lot of fun to be had in Photoshop.

photo by miranda woodward

A motor cycle roars out of the dunes and performs the more or less compulsory (for adolescents and dogs) tight circle on the beach, then roars off up the dunes again and back down.

A moment or two later, he's back again

This cut in the dunes has more than doubled in size over the winter.

All it takes is one bike disturbing the roots of the marram grass in one pass across them, and the next westerly gale will home in on it as surely as if drawn by a magnet. Loose sand is an invitation to wind erosion.

In fact the forest itself owes its existence to the threat of wind blown dune sand blocking the northern rail route up the Kaipara Valley, and that's some miles inland from the coast.

This idiot has also been rampaging around behind the dunes in a designated equestrian area, placing legitimate users of the area at some risk.

If a dune is left in peace, grass and then scrub roots help to stabilise it.

As I said, all it takes is one fool on a bike. Once the damage is done, it's hard to repair..

Another shell that spends most of its life at sea is the ramshorn.

At this size they'd be impressive, but they're actually about 2.5 cm across. Maybe in future I'll grow bored with this but at present I'm still fascinated by the extra presence macro-photography in the new digital cameras lends to its subjects.

I have a Sony H2. Miranda has an H5, a big brother to mine. (They're not in the same league as the digital SLRs but much simpler to use, and smaller, and definitely doing all we want them to so far.) We justify the expense by the amount of outdoor walking we do in the course of taking photographs.

To the north, the weather is turning shitty, and we head back to the van. On the way we spot a baby gannet that's obviously fallen from its nest at Muriwai. I've spent some time down the coast a little looking through a telephoto lens at these fluffy little fellows, and it's kind of sad.

I catch a shot of a Muehlenbeckia complexa in bud on the way back.

and also a large patch of Tetragonia implexicoma, the close cousin of the New Zealand spinach sold in our seedshops, and also edible.

It differs from T. tetragonioides in that the seeds are bright red and succulent, and, I am told, quite sweet when ripe. I haven't tried this out yet.

Back to the van. I do hope Miranda remembered to switch the light off before she left.