October Mornings
October Moons
10/9/11
Nanding, Guizhou, PRC
The cliffs of Jinfoshan between Sichuan and Guizhou Province
I am always leaving it seems, during the season I love the
most. The dogs return with dew dampened coats and eagerly retreat
to their beds near the stove while a timid dawn takes hold, its light
seemingly refracted by the concentrate of aromas in the
air. October moons are easily accessible in an
October sky and I seldom have to exert much effort to find one, which I
do frequently during this month. Before my departure I determine
if the moon is waxing or waning and when it will be full, for a full
moon in October, when I am away, carries with it a significance of
memory and meaning.
It does not seem so terribly long ago in my life, yet to be fully
honest with you nothing seems too terribly long ago in my life outside
perhaps the early years of the Jurassic, when I looked upon a full moon
in October and felt quite small and isolated but at once in
conversation with those I missed and loved at that precise
moment. I was on the Cangshan in Yunnan Province in a small
encampment called Huadiamba when the full moon rose and painted the
valley floor and mountainsides in platinum iridescence.
Though there are a
billion stars in the sky that we might imagine those we love looking
upon at precisely the same moment, and in that communal gaze a
contentment that life is alright for just a moment, statistically
speaking a full moon in October gets a profoundly larger number of hits
than might any star–falling, first or really, really bright. And
so it was that lonely night in October in Yunnan, and so it has been
every October since, with a now more codified pact between gazer and
gazee, that in spite of miles and oceans and dysfunctional internet
connections, there will always be a full moon in October through which
we can say our ‘goodnight and god bless’.
It is Sunday, October 9th, ……… the Lunation number is
1098, its age 12 days, 4 hr. 31 minutes and I am in western Guizhou
Province. Our troupe, Scott McMahon, Ozzie Johnson and myself,
are well-seasoned traveling companions so there is little apprehension
as to the quality of the experience we will enjoy. The hardest
part of the trail–that of interminable flights, missed connections and
our bodily recalibrations–is behind us. What lies ahead for the
three of us is the titillation of new territory, and the filtering, if
not of an entirely new flora, then one with a decidedly different
accent.
I will post as I can throughout
this journey of a month's duration. Already the snarls of
technology have appeared and we are thusly even more remote. In
the end I can always rely on the moon. It will be full in 4 days.
DJH
Post 2
10/10/11
Jinfoshan
Jinfoshan, or
Golden Buddha Mountain, is a dramatically gawky limestone mastiff on
the southern edge of the Dalou Shan range, an autonomous region that
lies between Sichuan and Guizhou (gway-jo) Province. The province
itself, on the southeast border, does not possess the cache' of
celebrated cuisine or botany as do the western provinces–it can be
argued unjustifiably–and is considered to be the most impoverished
region in the PRC.
Looking back to the razor back on Fanjingshan from the south side of the mountain.
It
is this mountain and its remarkably preserved flora (since the 1930's)
that is our first order of business for the next month in
Guizhou. It has already been an exciting introduction to the
plants we will encounter during our travels this autumn.
Due
to China's current economic strength and emerging middle class, the
commercial development of tourist facilities throughout the country is
big business, and Jinfoshan has not escaped the notice of
developers. Two high drama trams carry curiously few numbers of
visitors to the top where one can observe a near nightmarish assault on
a once pristine forest. But those willing to put a few miles
under the soles of their shoes will be treated to a dramatic landscape
with an exceptional flora.
We have spent three days on
Jinfoshan, exploring the southern, northern and western edges.
The flora is here, as throughout much of western China, a blended
concoction of Asia minor (for instance, Cotinus coggygria ), the
Himalayas (Betula utilis), the Japanese archipelago (Styrax japonicus)
and Austro-asia (the highly protected conifer, Cathaya
argylophylla). But betwixt and between these more recognizable
taxa exist a mind-bending diversity of trees, shrubs, vines, ferns and
herbaceous perennials that are found here and nowhere else.
The
distinctive foliage and flower buds of the genus Stachyurus caught our
eyes immediately on that first day. The purple flushed foliage
of Stachyurus chinensis made itself readily known however that of
Stachyurus salicifolius, whose narrow evergreen leaves appear uncannily
similar to bamboo–many species of which grow here in profusion–took
more effort to recognize. It makes for a sensational
evergreen or semi-evergreen shrub in cultivation.
Hydrangea aspera ssp. sargentiana on Jinfoshan
Within
an impenetrable thicket of garden worthy subjects that grew here, which
included Corylopsis, Hydrangea, Kerria, Viburnum, Philadelphus,
Lindera, Litsea, Sorbus, Decaisnea, Euonymus and Cornus, to name a few,
grew an evergreen vine related to Akebia, that I have not
previosly encountered. 
Sorbus
sargentiae is common on the upper elevations of Jinfoshan at
approximately 7500'. A striking and hardy mountain ash seldom
seen in cultivation.
A vendor on Jinfoshan selling wild collected fruit of Actinidia chinensis, or Kiwi.
Its
very narrow, leathery green leaves held along its mildly snaking stems
were strikingly handsome as was its purple plum-sized fruit that had
split to reveal a sweet, seedy pulp inside. I believe this to be
the little known Parvatia brunoniana.
There will always
be moments during travels such as these that will be discussed amongst
participants of the next trip and the trip after that, and such it was
and will be on that first morning when we realized the very large and
handsome tree overhanging the trail on which we hiked was Carpinus
fangiana. This hornbeam is vastly under appreciated in
cultivation, with linear jagged-edged leaves to 8" in length and
pendulous racemes of papery-bracted fruit in autumn extending to, on
some specimens, nearly one foot in length. Though we saw this
species on previous trips in SE Sichuan province, its proportional
grandeur had escaped our notice.
After a full day of a
methodical revealing of the flora that exists here, in combination with
the vestiges of jet lag, we retreated late in the afternoon via a tram
on the western side of the mountain. Not recommended for the
acrophobic; it was a titillating end to a sensational day as we
excitedly observed the upper canopy of the forests below, which
included Magnolia, Liquidambar, Sassafras, Gordonia and numerous
maples.
DJH
Post 3
10/14/11
Fanjingshan, Guizhou, PRC
Anyone who has come to Asia proper to look at plants in the wild, or at
least in the parts of Asia where I have traveled, will concur that
there is no fun in getting there. Between the far flung vestiges
of preserved forests lie a torment of noodle-jarring reruns; miles of
roads in deconstruction, the lack of any line remotely reckoned as
straight, the discomfort of starving dogs, sometimes on the way to
market, and pigs in baskets always on the way to market. Yet if
one allows oneself to look beyond the sublunary, one can see a most
remarkable landscape unfold before them. Unlike any other place
on earth, when I am here I can perceive the curvature of the planet. 
The karst cliffs of Dashahe Reserve are capped by the rare conifer, Cathaya argylophylla.
In autumn it seems all of Asia is on fire, with rice straw lit and
fuming on laughably and admirably steep, neatly terraced
mountainsides. Rice smoke in Asia is the original smog and only
adds to the signature haze that has become the stuff of
over-romanticized paintings in the Oriental device. It still
accumulates in the lungs and smarts the eyes, but all-in-all it seems
an honest pollution.
The foliage and fruit of a Metapanax that I have never seen before.
Smoke does no good at all in accentuating a prairie or plain or even a
timid landscape of rolling hills. For it to be any good at all,
there must be drama, in weird peaks and stacks with their plunging
necklines to fathomless valleys. And in Guizhou Province, there
is no lack of topographic theatrics nor is there any lack of smoke in
autumn.
We have woven our way from Jinfoshan to Fanjingshan via the Dashahe
Cathaya Reserve near Daozheng. The latter is a project under
construction and where my friend, the late Peter Wharton of the UBC
Botanical Garden, visted for two weeks in the mid-90's. It was
his assessment of the area that had made me wish to see it first hand.
Indeed its karst cliffs and spires topped by Cathaya argylophylla, a
rare conifer and primary concern of this reserve, were
impressive. I wish we had been afforded a longer visit.
Oddly enough, the environs outside of and leading to the Reserve were
of greater interest in a botanical sense than inside the boundaries,
where I had watched a large herd of goats having their way with
anything remotely palatable. (As I observed a rather sizeable
specimen of Hydrangea aspera disintegrate before my eyes, I considered
if it would not be better in the long run if goats were hitherto
confined to petting zoos).
Mahonia duclouxiana was common in the areas leading to the Reserve in resplendent fruit.
It was undiluted frisson to at last encounter Mahonia duclouxiana
(aka Mahonia mairei) in the wild, with its long and elegant leaves to
2.5' and striking pendulous clusters of blue fruit at the terminal of
each 3-5' stem. It blossoms in winter with bicolor coral and
butterscotch yellow flowers. An evergreen spicebush, Lindera
communis, was present as well with colorful crops of red fruit
plastered along its stems. Also here was the deciduous vine,
Akebia trifoliata var. australis.
An enormous fruited specimen of Akebia trifoliata var. australis en route to Dashahe.
The latter possessed the largest fruit of any 'Lardizabaloid' I had
ever seen, resembling small lavender melons held along its fine and
unassuming stems clad.
Our guide at Dashahe Reserve delighted in picking fruit of Cornus aff.
angustata (an evergreen species of dogwood) and offering it to us to
eat.
The following morning, a drive south and east to the base of
Fanjingshan, which I will visit for the first time in the morning, took
nine hours of grueling tedium in pouring rain. Yet we are now poised to
readily experience one of the most beloved and sacred mountains of this
Province.
DJH
Post 4
10/14/11
Four Words for Fanjingshan
Guizhou Province, PRC
A
bit over a year ago while in New Zealand giving presentations I had the
privilege of visiting the fanciful garden of Lois Croom on the remote
Chatham Islands. I realize it seems a disconnect to even mention this
fact, now, as certainly Guizhou Province is to New Zealand as
apples are to oranges. The reason I do is the farewell my hostess
sent with me on that day. "Take lots of risks" were her parting
words.
I
have applied that approach to numerous instances since, in both a
physical and emotional sense. And the words came to me again
today while on a memorable trek on Fanjingshan in Guizhou Province.
The
mountain, though certainly not as well known as Emei Shan in Sichuan,
has been sacred to numerous sects of Buddhists for nearly 1000 years
with now active monasteries in various stages of renovation.
Accordingly, the rich forests on its vast slopes are largely intact,
and are quite magnificent.
The Phoenix, on Fanjingshan, is topped by a pair of functioning Buddhist temples.
Of
the days here, one was spent hiking the razor back from the north to
the south. The ridge slid away precipitously from both sides of
the trail, yet we were embraced by a hardy and beautiful inventory of
Sorbus (S. hemsleyi and S. keissleri), Rhododendron (R. calophytum
amongst others), Pieris, Ilex, Schima and evergreen oaks. 
Scott McMahan, myself and Ozzie Johnson along the razor back on Fanjingshan.
Tree-like
speciemens of Hydrangea xanthoneura were ubiquitous as were numerous
species of my pet genus, Acer. Atop rocky outcroppings grew
wizened specimens of Tsuga, or Hemlock, which we believed to be T.
dumosa, while as we approached the southern peaks and monasteries,
Enkianthus serrulatus appeared in quantity, creating a diaphanous veil
of crimson through which to admire the distant views.
The Phoenix on the south side of Fanjingshan is framed by Enkianthus serrulatus in autumn color.
An
extremely photogenic species of spindle tree, Euonymus hamiltonianus,
was brilliant in fruit along the trails of this mountain.
Of
particular note was Euonymus hamiltonianus, which I had come to know
through a handful of poorly grown specimens in Seattle's Washington
Park Arboretum. Here, in full sun, the brilliant pink fruit
weighted the branches and shown like cherry blossoms against a crisp,
autumn's day sky. I watched at least two species of contented
birds devour its fruit; one was assuredly a close relative of our
Tufted Titmouse in the family of chickadees.
Wherever I travel
in Asia, I am forced to face one of my biggest fears; identifying
Hydrangeas. It may seem a simple task to some, however the
variability that each species possesses puts a twist to the game which
is discomforting at best. And I often see them with only shards
of remaining leaves and flowers. As we approached the shade and
moisture of the southern ridge, what we believed to be Hydrangea
longipes came into view. It is a beautiful but mostly unknown
species in cultivation, with gargantuan heart-shaped leaves held by
protracted petioles to a foot in length. The large and lacy white
flowers are presented on old wood in early summer.
As
the shadows began to stretch in late afternoon and the temperature in
the shade plummeted, it was time to make our way down the
southern portion of the mountain which we would examine in greater
detail the following day. As we passed below the Phoenix, and
knowing that, in truth, the likelihood that I would ever be afforded a
more splendid day to experience what this mountain offers, I listened
again to the words of Lois Croom, on the Chatham Islands, and, along
with Scott, hoisted ourselves up along the rocks, steps and chains and
ascended the peak._4.jpeg)
Climbing to the Monastery–very scary..jpeg)
On the top, 7,500 feet.
DJH
Post 5
10/21/11
Garlic Mountain, far western Guizhou Province
PRC
A
bruising 9 hour drive south and east of Fanjingshan delivered us to the
base of yet another of the major mountains in Guizhou, the Leigongshan,
and the sublime luxury of three full nights in the same location.
On the 9th floor of a nearly empty grandiose hotel, I had the
opportunity to become well acquainted with a rodent-of-unusual-size
that shared my room.
Though the summit of the Leigongshan
approaches 7,000 feet, the trip to the very top on this day would be a
breeze, as a nicely paved road leads directly to a transmission tower
that caps the summit. I believe our spirits collectively sunk as
we sped past the flora on our ascent, it appearing to be xeric and
denuded. Our attitudes adjusted as we poured from the jeep and
made our way down slope via a series of trails.
A denizen of upper elevations throughout western China, Clematis montana can be as showy in fruit as in flower.
The
upper elevations consisted of a flora that spoke in a decidedly eastern
accent, as I had encountered all of the major players in the mountains
of South Korea some two decades ago. Symplocus aff. pilosa, a
medium-sized deciduous shrub peppered with signature sapphire blue
fruit, shared company with Magnolia sieboldii. 
The vibrantly colored fruit of Symplocus aff pilosa on the Leigongshan.
Specimens
of Clethra cavalierei, with sensational exfoliating bark and orange red
autumn color, was superficially a dead ringer for its Japanese
counterpart, Clethra barbinervis, while the Hydrangoidal inventory
consisted of both Hydrangea heteromalla (referred to as Hydrangea
xanthoneura by Chinese botanists) and Hydrangea paniculata. Of
the latter, it was the first time I had encountered this species on the
mainland of China and was intrigued by the pinkish cast to its very
tardy heads of flowers.
By late morning we had hiked a
scant distance compared to the miles that lay ahead, we were slowed by
distraction and wonderment. A local farmer passed us shyly with
her hat brimming full of the fruit of Illicium, or star anise, tipping
us off to its presence on this mountain. Attesting to its market value, for use in traditional Chinese medicine, on
a subsequent day along the lower slopes we came across a mature 60'
Illicium that had been significantly disfigured, its upper third felled
and stripped of every fruit. We are uncertain as to the species
that occur here.
A local farmer with her harvest of wild collected fruit of Illicium, used here medicinally rather than culinarily.
At
mid-elevations, a robust species of Styrax, or Snowbell, appeared
in large numbers, its tawny brown seed littering the trail. It
assuredly puts on a remarkable showing when in blossom in spring,
perhaps concurrently with Rhododendron fortunei that predominates here
at virtually all elevations. At lower elevations another member
of the Styracaceae, the family of Snowbells, added a bit of
intrigue. Here, Pterostyrax psilophyllus grew as enormous specimens to well over 100' in height. I grow
this deciduous, broadly ovate foliaged species in my garden in
Indianola which came from previous collections in northeast Sichuan,
however here the foliage is decidedly three lobed, appearing
superficially to be that of a spicebush, Lindera obtusiloba.
In
late afternoon and, in what has become our daily modus operandi,
disoriented as to the direction we should follow, we were forced to
hurry down slope to reconnoiter at our predetermined hour. Still,
we were unable to resist the perusal of numerous things along the way,
including specimens of Magnolia sprengeri (my first encounter in the
wild) and an old friend from northern Vietnam, Magnolia
foveolata.
With less than a quarter mile to go, we came
upon yet another marvel that slowed our progress. The
Lardizabalaceae, the family of Akebia, Holboellia and Stauntonia, never
ceases to delight me with its carefully guarded diversity.
A distinctive Holboellia from the Leigongshan, with trifoliate leaves comprised of large and leathery leaflets.
From
what had seemed at first sight a rather staid piece of parched Chinese
forest had proven to be amongst the most illuminating and exciting of
the trip thus far. We left the day feeling fortunate,
having additional days remaining to explore and admire its
bounty.
DJH
Post 6
10/22/11
Wumeng Mt
Guizhou Province, PRC
During the 1.5 day drive to the western border of Guizhou (with Sichuan
Province) and its highest peak, we find ourselves approaching that
point in any trip when the creature comforts of home seemingly outweigh
any opportunity to witness plants in their rightful places. With
hours on jolting roads, we have had plenty of time to ponder the
transitioning landscape (to that of more mountainous), the differing
minority cultures (from the Maio to the Yi) and variations in cuisine
(from spicy to combustible). Indisputably, in the relative luxury
of our modern travel, the process of getting from place to place and
often times to places that in retrospect one wishes one had not
bothered with at all allows for a more profound respect for our
celebrated counterparts of the 19th and early 20th centuries.
Assuredly they traveled for days and sometimes weeks to get to
promising territory only to find germinating disappointment.
Thus it has been with our lastest foray, driving 350 km to the west to
Jiucai Ping which rises to well over 9,000' To be perfectly
honest, I have been skeptical of higher elevations for a
considerable time. Gauzy air and frigid temperatures
not only diminish diversity in precisely the same fashion as does
traveling to both poles, but in Asia in particular, the high elevation
only invites grazing of long horned gourmands that munch and mow
everything to ground level.
Still, one reckons, if there are mountain peaks then there exists
mountain valleys; it was this promise that we loaded into the back of
the jeep along with our gear.
The day on the mountain was cold and windy with fog as thick as rich
custard. Still, even at the base of the mountain, before we began
the long series of switchbacks on its narrow road leading to higher
elevations, we could recognize the signatures of highly degraded
land. When we exited our vehicle at nearly 9100', the wind
was screaming above us. Later in the morning, when the fog had
somewhat lifted, we realized the scream was nothing more than the
enormous rotors of immense wind generators; we had taken the wrong road.
Put right, we ultimately huffed and puffed to the top of the peak
through karst outcroppings and stands of a comely dwarf evergreen oak,
Quercus monomotricha, that I had last seen on the Zhongdien Plateau of
NE Yunnan in 2000. It is a pity that this handsome but variable
species is not firmly in cultivation. Clematis montana and a
Holboellia raked through the branches of this common shrub along with a
dense rounded Rhododendron, Mahonia aff. and, of course,
Hydrangea heteromalla and Sorbaria.
A bit later, and proving that even on days of remarked paucity in terms
of titillating plant encounters, we came upon a dwarf rambling
evergreen Euonymus with spiny and brilliant pink fruit. It proved
to be Euonymus wilsoniana and was a first for the three of us.
On our hour's drive to our lodging that evening, admittedly feeling
frustrated and a bit crestfallen, we stopped to examine a Mahonia we
had seen in flower that morning. This proved to be a handsome
form of Mahonia oiwakiensis, the type of which occurs in Taiwan, and
one I had by coincidence collected in Sichuan Province many years
earlier. It was stunning in full flower and lifted our spirits as
only good plants at the end of a long day can.
DJH
Post 7
100 Minutes along the 100 Li
A long half-day of backtracking from our night's stay in Hezeng led us
to the basement of our target elevation of 2,000m, what we consider the
goldilocks zone for observation of plants appropriate in zones
7-10.. The 100 Li of Rhododendrons (essentially 100 kilometers of
Rhododendron) is a municipal reserve of mostly second growth
Rhododendron forest in near monochromosis, comprised of R. delavayi, R.
irroratum and the ubiquitous R. decora, the later being reminiscent of
the evergreen azaleas prominent in American horticulture; a few of the
latter were in off-season blossom in tones of blazing salmon-pink,
proving the forebears of the modern hybrids themselves often possess a
general unpalatable character.
Though this was assuredly a natural area, it had a
mostly unnatural impression due to the monotony of a single
genus; we questioned ourselves as to what set of parameters would
encourage this scenario although any illumination will come when
greater minds than ours are queried.
With a bit of work, however, we were able to
determine there were other players at work. Perhaps most exciting
for me was seeing specimens of Hydrangea aspera approaching the ilk of
what is considered H. aspera subsp. sargentiana. Represented here
as well was what I consider to be Hydrangea chinensis, a virtual
minefield of taxonomy. Large specimens of Styrax dasyanthus, with
pendulous panicles of nutlets towered above, adding to the remarkable
number of snowbells and their relatives we have seen during this voyage. Along the road cuts blossomed Mahonia fortunei, a species that had last seen in the wild in western Sichuan in 1996.
Mahonia fortunei
On the road cuts and moist banks also grew quantities of
Epimedium, appearing in foliage to be E. acuminatum while with it, and
attesting to the elevation of 5500', blossomed a striking gesneriad
which we were unable to attach a genus. Sadly, such beauties in
this family will not thrive in the coolness of the Pacific Northwest,
however I will not give up the blessed coolness of the Pacific
Northwest to simply grow such beauties.
Certainly the most intriguing tryst of the
day was with a species in the genus Stachyurus and one never savored
before. It was a double-take moment, mentally permuting between Ilex,
Querucs and then, of-course-you-ignorant-fool what-were-you-thinking
Stachyurus. Its evergreen,leathery and oblong leaves made easy
keying to Stachyurus oblongifolius. I love Stachyurus and I love
easy.
Scott McMahon studying a specimen of the curious Stachyurus oblongifolius
Stachyurus oblongifolius
The day ended as it had started, with a very long
drive. En route, we drove through what had not been the first nor
would it be the last but never-the-less implausible exercise of
building an entire city all at once. In the midst of a
metropolitanical big bang, tricked-out women in thigh-high
leather boots, very short skirts and white lace tops carried live
chickens home by their feet.
DJH