Malpais

When it comes to emotive geography¹, the South Island has it all over the North – with place names such as Mounds of Misery and Dismal Swamp leaving little doubt as to the experiences of some of our forebears.

In many cases, such landscapes of despair now represent particularly interesting (and often beautiful) ecosystems for botanists to explore, due to the fact that they are frequently ‘unimproved’ – having evaded the often destructive effects of ‘improvement’ on the basis of being considered unimprovable.

The title of this journal article refers to a landscape type associated with Mexico City’s volcanic field (and other volcanic fields in the wider region) – stemming from the Spanish words for bad (‘mal’) and land (‘pais’, a broader term also meaning ‘country’). This particular brand of badland bears similarities to the former appearance of significant tracts of Auckland’s volcanic field, such as the austere landscape that William Colenso observed surrounding Southdown over 150 years ago – where rare native geraniums still survive in positions that are too challenging for weed species that dominate much of this remnant.

Most of our city’s volcanic badlands have been sanitised to accommodate development – with roads, buildings and parks rolled out over the top of them over the last 150 years. However, small pockets of these once-extensive areas remain in various parts of Auckland, with the best example being Rangitoto’s slowly regenerating fields of scoria.

On Maungarei/Mt Wellington, Pellaea calidirupium (pictured above) endures in an unlikely habitat that simply looks like rough grass from a distance, yet which retains a degree of openness due to the residue of this former badland (with a cover of scoria partially resisting the advances of aggressive exotic grasses).

The continuing survival of the character and biota of badland landscapes largely relies on such spaces remaining open – whether through a lack of fertility, significant rock cover or drought. Several years ago, this was one subject within an article that I prepared for The Landscape Foundation, entitled ‘In defense of bare ground’ – in which I was interested in exploring the wide array of environments that eschew human assumptions about the necessity of covering the earth with vegetation.

Gumland species like Pimelea orthia (above left, at Lake Ohia) are pushed out when ground is ‘improved’, as are the remarkable patterns of lichens, mosses and oxidised earth that develop in such places.

We’ll end all this talk of malpais (for now) with images of Pillar Point – one of several infertile ecosystems from the Northwest Nelson coast inhabited by interesting species like Dracophyllum trimorphum (shown above right). We’re especially fascinated by a place known as the Luna Badlands, which takes Pillar Point’s ascetic aesthetic to even greater lengths.

Quite apart from its marvellous name, we’re keen on visiting Luna Badlands on the basis of the historical occurrence there of the critically endangered Pimelea ignota – a species now officially considered to have dwindled to just 7 plants in the wild. Although in situ conservation is always the first priority, this attractive low shrub (which is pictured below) entered cultivation several years ago – providing landscape architecture with the opportunity to assist in preventing its extinction.