On an assignment for the NSW Department of Climate Change, Energy, the Environment and Water (DCCEEW), Max de Beer, Olivia Gobran, James Lidsey and Jack Talbert were on the Prostanthera trail, a search for the rarest mint bush in all of Australia: P. discolor, last recorded at Baerami in 1988. Our task was simple yet daunting: three days of hiking through rugged terrain to confirm whether this elusive mint bush still existed.
Before even hitting the road, it was clear that this trip would not be defined by what we did or did not find. It was a trip that brought about connections. We were so lucky to be able to make contact with Col Gibson and Robert Miller, the original ecologists who first located the Baerami Creek population on their 1988 expedition. They were an inspiration, treasure trove of knowledge, and a reminder that our elders have so much wisdom and experience and taking time to listen can be invaluable.
Thanks to Max’s resourcefulness, we connected with Col, who immediately corrected a key detail: the location DCCEEW had provided was off by 10 kilometres. A visit to Col’s home became our first stop, where we were unexpectedly joined by Robert Miller—carrying a 40-year-old specimen from their original find in 1988.
What a start – we had already found the plant, albeit a near 40-year-old sample, we viewed it along a green fringe of suburbia in Western Sydney. The catch-up with Col and Robert yielded possibly the most important finding of the background research so far – an inspection of their original topo map from 1988, with not just one x marks the spot, but two. A mission that was initially assumed as being worse than the proverbial “needle in a haystack”, we now had two exact target locations.It’s also worth a mention that Oliva was able to align some stars during an advanced plant identification course at the University of NSW. In attendance at UNSW was Guy Taseski, who just so happened to specialize in Prostanthera and had P. discolor growing on a balcony. This plant was grown from a cutting from the known reference population at Honeysuckle Creek. Olivia didn’t let the opportunity go to waste, and a sample was taken for our herbarium to allow for cross identification in the field. Another great start.
Alex Pescud also leant his expertise in the lead up and provided 3D interpretation of the microhabitat for P. discolor at Honeysuckle Creek, which was felt when we were delving into the gullies, homing in on where to search. It has been said that the species is a shadow dweller, lurking out of sight, preferring the shadow lands.
A largely chance encounter and eaves drop put us in touch with Jacob Ellis, a First Nations representative and local of the Baerami area, bringing a deeper meaning to our journey and taking the story of Prostanthera back quite a few more millennia than the written records we had. Jacob was ever so humble in his offering to welcome us to walk on his Country through a transcendental smoking ceremony near the reference population of P. discolor at Honeysuckle Creek. Time stood still as he welcomed us, bathing in the fragrant smoke of acacia and hearing of the cultural significance of the area we were standing in. Jacob left enough hints of some scary stories of wild dogs, just enough lack of detail to put us on alert that night.
The reference population of P. discolor was located shortly after commencing our search within a side tributary of Honeysuckle Creek. The species was confirmed to be flowering and easily identifiable.
As far as starting off on the right foot can go, we were feeling pretty good with the information gathered so far.
Our mission would next take us into the labyrinth of the Wollemi National Park. We struck basecamp in the dark alongside lower Baerami Creek and went about a cooking frenzy to fill the hungry bellies after a long first day of travel from the South Coast. The curry and naan was what we needed to fuel us for the early start the next day, either that, or the cacophony of birds from 5am telling us it was time to get moving. We set off in aim of the pass between Gibber Peaks and Crypt Hill. Going was slowed by the dense vegetation, but enough progress was made and we were over the saddle and being pulled towards Cols first P. discolor point. The excitement was building.
Max, being the formidable ecologist that he is, dove headfirst into the gully, closely followed by James heading in the opposite direction upstream. Olivia, sharp-eyed and determined, scanned the slopes for any sign of our mintbush.
As we pressed into the gully, Jamie, camera in hand documenting the expedition, joked that it couldn’t possibly be this easy. Fanned out in silent anticipation, all we found were false leads—Dampiera, Hardenbergia, Patersonia, Solanum, Indigophera — purple flowers taunting us at every turn. It seemed that purple was in vogue this season along Baerami Long Arm.
After over an hour of searching in vain, we had to make the call to move on. We made the joint conclusion that the creek had evidence of recent severe fire, and was undergoing a rather messy succession of regrowth that would likely not favour Prostanthera. Rough barked trees were scarred to the canopy, with some entirely consumed by fire. Devils twine and Kennedia were smothering much of the vegetation in what may otherwise have been ideal gully habitat.
This fruitless search cost us most of the morning, although we did start to gather information on the state of vegetation at the first location. Signs of severe bushfire, and some pretty clapped-out regrowth. We felt now obligated to investigate the nearby highpoint of Crypt Hill – so named due to the presence of P. cryptandroides. Time did not allow for a long search of this side mission, and the nearest Prostanthera was sampled in hope. Alas, Max would confirm the identification as P. prunelloides once back at the office. From Crypt Hill we were able to glimpse the tops of the canyons hiding the next target location towards Miller Peak.
We stopped for lunch under a profusely flowering and fragrant Commmersonia along Baerami Left Hand. This was soon followed by an awkward encounter with a small Red-bellied Black Snake in a rush to get away, running straight between Jacks legs and into the creek. As the day was moving faster than we were, an adjustment to the planned route was made and we dismissed an attempt to summit Miller Peak, and instead made our way upstream into the lower reaches of the canyon that contained the second target point. We made it about halfway to the confluence we were aiming for. The habitat looked decent for P. discolour. In some areas, we were finding Westringia patches, very similar as the co-occurrence at Honeysuckle Creek. Again, specks of purple were prolific, giving false leads from a distance. But we were running out of daylight, so we decided against continuing to the target location, instead saving it for the next day. We jumped boulders, slid down rocks, and made our way back to basecamp. Hiking boots were swapped for sandals and we made our way to the rockpools for a pre-dinner swim.
We planned for a longer next day of hiking and made the call to waken with the birds for an earlier start before taking a different route to the second point. We opted for the highline, straight up towards the high point of Rowan Smith Hill. The climb got the blood pumping, with some of us mistakenly leaving their thermals on to really feel the heat. Midway up Max spotted a Brush-tailed Rock-wallaby on the prominent north facing slope. A timely find as Max would soon need to turn back and make tracks for his next mission, surveying Red-lored Whistlers at Nombinnie.
From here, it was a skeleton crew of Olivia, James and Jack, with the most exposed terrain left to the three of us. We deviated from the known route mapped out by Col and Robert, and instead rolled the dice on a gully that would drop us closer to the target point. To get there, we crossed a knife-edge ridge line covered in wildflowers and chest high Stypandra in full bloom.
As we navigated the ridgeline, our eyes scanned for the shape of another rock wallaby flashing past. Although we saw no more there was an uncanny sensation of their presence, like the shadows of the sandstone were alive, their watchful eyes hidden just beyond our sight, silently observing our every step. We pushed on, deciding the likelihood of crystal-clear swimming holes in the canyon, would make the smartest lunch pit stop.
The gully we gambled on was thick with Backhousia and Acacia regrowth, much of which was dead and matted together by the evil combination of Devils Twine and Kennedia. Rough barked eucalypts showed signs of fire with burned trunks, and high slopes covered by pea flowers. The signs of bushfire disturbance were not welcome as we were getting warmer on location two.
The naturally formed pools in the canyon, coined onsens by James, were a sound reward for the bushbashing it took to drop down into the shadowland. Boots were off and the aeropress was out for a late lunch swim and americano. Spirits were high as we dined no more than 200m from the second and final validation point.
The final point was within the upstream armpit of the confluence of a short and sharp gully dropping into the main canyon system. A shadowland indeed. There were numerous positive signs, with the side gully looking very similar to the side tributaries of Honeysuckle Creek. Co-occurring species were present. It was time to fan out and walk lines up and down at our final target point. We were silent in our acknowledgement of the fire regrowth and burnt trunks, opting to optimistically scour the area in hope. We did not manage to find P. discolor, again concluding that the area had been burnt too fiercely, too recently.
It is a hard thing to swallow when a trip is so successful until the last minute. With so much preparation and the planning going so smoothly we were perhaps overly optimistic that we would be successful in our hunt. Olivia put it well – that everything we were in control of went great, with the only thing we were weren’t in control of – the actual presence and persistence of P. discolor, evading us. With heads held less high we realised we would not be finding the much-coveted mintbush this time, and by virtue, there would be no celebratory floral tattoos on the drive home.
We made our way downstream further into the canyon, eyes peeled for hopeful glimmers of purple on the creek sides. We made the most of the onsens with some afternoon sun swims to raise spirits once more as we came to terms with the enigmatic plant no longer persisting in the target locations.
The trip back to the South Coast was all that remained for the final day, and we were content in that we achieved our objective as far as possible, having reached the target points, loaded up with the memories of a weeks’ worth of adventure.
If it weren’t for the 2019/2020 catastrophic wildfires ripping through the Baerami labyrinth I am sure we would have found Prostanthera discolor.
Though we didn’t find the elusive mint bush, our journey unveiled critical insights into the species’ vulnerability to severe fires and the precariousness of its habitat. It reinforced the urgency of conservation efforts, especially at Honeysuckle Creek, where the only known population remains.
We were also lucky enough to bag a bunch of threatened fauna species, with a Powerful Owl heard crooning camp on night two, likely attracted to the simmering eggplant curry and naan. The next morning on the climb up towards Crypt Hill, pushing through spiky Bursaria and Devils Twine we passed under a pair of Little Lorikeets to get things started. Later this same day, while descending back into Baerami Left Hand, Jamie our videographer spotted wallabies overhead in the low lying caves and mid-cliffs. Max was quick on the binoculars to confirm two Brush-tailed Rock-wallabies, and not the last for the trip either, with a final sighting on day 3. This being possibly one of the more prominent findings. A total of 73 fauna species for the trip.
It was great to get out into the field to try to solve a few old mysteries – and possibly to discover a few new ones.
