November 26, 2007
I arrived in Porterville this rainy afternoon, after a week of rather futile work with Disa filicornis and Disa harveiana. The latter is the sister-species of Disa draconis and looks almost identical, so I can collect data from D. harveiana and merge them with those from D. draconis. The site on the Gydo Pass is beautiful, with dramatic mountain landscapes, huge boulders that provide the much-needed shade for lunch breaks, and baboons that pounce around between the rocks and screech and bark quite frighteningly. We put in a week of long days, alternating between scorching heat without a breeze and gloomy wet-cold days with gale-force winds, but to no avail. There are simply no pollinators around, so the most crucial experiment, which is concerned with pollinator behavior, did obviously not take place.
In addition, the accommodation situation in Ceres was rather bleak. Ceres itself is not really a spectacular place, despite the brochures that praise it as an “undiscovered jewel in a fruitful valley”. It is surrounded by spectacular mountains with a beautiful flora and lots of orchids, but I didn’t expect that there would be so many people competing for the limited accommodation offered in this small town. Within one week Dane and I had to move three times, which has made us masters in the art of quick packing and moving. By the third time, we wrapped up everything, moved, and settled into the new place within less than an hour. Well, our “household” really only consists of three duffel-bags, a box and some bags with food, and a beach-bag containing a dissection microscope, which usually provides after-dinner entertainment in the form of pollen counting. Most of our accommodation was very nice, but the frequent moves are really distracting.
The last three days we spent on an idyllic fruit farm, which, unfortunately, also had several peacocks. I’m amazed that these birds are still alive – I’m sure we were not the first tourists that wanted to strangle them when they started their terrible hooting and screeching before sunrise!
In addition to all this, Dane’s father broke his leg yesterday, so he had to go back to Cape Town to help out. This leaves me without an assistant for a couple of days until a friend of Dane is free to step in and work with me until (hopefully) end of December. Massively frustrated with all this, I called my local advisor, Professor Steve Johnson from the University of KwaZulu-Natal, and asked for help. He suggested that I move to Porterville, just about 60km from Ceres, where Disa harveiana flowers together with its model, a long-spurred Pelargonium. The rewardless flowers of D. harveiana mimic the rewarding Pelargonium flowers, and the long-tongued flies that visit the Pelargoniums occasionally confuse the Disa flowers with their food source and thereby pollinate the Disas. The presence of the rewarding model is promising for the presence of pollinators, so I hope to be able to conduct my crucial experiments there.
In consequence, I packed up all my stuff, minus Dane who had gotten a lift to Cape Town with our landlord’s cousin, and drove to Porterville. It is a beautiful drive amongst mountains, farms with remarkably well-kempt cattle, and wine yards. If you don’t get lost, it’s about an hour from Ceres, but if you are me… Well, I saw more farms and wine yards than necessary, but it was beautiful and the local radio station, which broadcasts in the local South African language Xlosa, provided lots of entertainment despite lots of dark, low-hanging clouds. Allegedly the weather will get better tomorrow, so in the morning I’ll head out again, with restored hope for a higher success rate, and try to interest some long-tongued flies in Disa harveiana.
The other piece of good news is that my car is now waterproof. You’d think that cars are innately waterproof, but oh, how mistaken you can be! The sunroof is leaky and has the nasty habit of sneakily collecting quite remarkable volumes of water in the car roof. Unsuspecting, you get into the car after it rained (quite heavily, usually), and get your first surprise in the shape of a wet bum. Once recovered, you start the car – and the moment you move the car, cold water comes pouring down your neck and shoulders! A lot of cursing and dabbing with towels later you actually drive off, but keep on getting dribbled on from above for several kilometers. In addition, the roof makes suspicious gurgling noises, suggesting the presence of even larger water volumes lurking in unseen places over your head. Thankfully, there are hot and sunny days that dry out the whole mess within a few hours. Nonetheless, the repeated occurrence of this spectacle really got on our nerves, so when the last batch of threatening clouds appeared on the horizon, Dane duct-taped the sunroof shut. Not a pretty solution, but it feels really good to drive around in the rain without a towel draped over your head and shoulders!