It is this local awareness that brought Ray Coleman and I to Rio on one of the hottest days on recent record. We were greeted at the airport by Luiz Felipe de Carvalho, Joao Marcio De Melo, and Rafael De Faria, a group of enthusiastic friends, eager to make us welcome, and to show off their splendid country and their amazing collections. The bromeliad collectors of Brazil have a distinct advantage over most of the rest of us. Availability is but one of them. Among their numbers are an amazing number of true experts, taxonomists both professional and amateur, dedicated to unraveling the mysteries of the bromeliad world, and to the preservation of their habitats. Conservation is a way of life in the bromeliad community, but divisions still exist over degree and extent of physical collecting.

Any differences in opinion aside, one thing is sure, Brazilians sure love their bromeliads. As we were treated to viewing one collection after another, Ray and I were in a constant state of amazement. Each collection boasted something new and different. It seems that the variety was endless. As species lovers, these collections were like the ‘holy grail’, never had we seen so many new and different species, many as yet unidentified  

     After a few days, we made an excursion down to Campinas, a lovely city to the southwest, home to the country’s largest commercial bromeliad grower, Rolf Zornig. Rolf maintains a spectacular range of greenhouses and a large, very modern sophisticated meristem laboratory.

Thousands of finished commercial bromeliads are produced daily and sent to market. Most would be familiar to Americans and Europeans, various large and showy Guzmanias, Vrieseas, Aechmeas and some Neoregelias that would be best classified as ‘generic’ by a collector’s standard, but superbly grown and presented for the commercial foliage and florist trade. Rarely have we seen anything to rival the efficiency or technical skills exhibited by the nurseries of Rolf Zornig. We were treated to an insider’s view of his operation from research and development to laboratory production and finishing to marketing. It was a real education for Ray and I and we owe Rolf a debt of gratitude for his hospitality and kindness. Upon our return to Rio, it was time for the annual open house at ‘Mania De Bromelia’, the nursery founded by Luiz Felipe and his friend Roberto Menescal, which they recently sold in order to concentrate on less commercial, more collector-oriented activities under the new name of ‘Bossa Nova’, no doubt in deference to Roberto Menescal’s fame as promoter and producer of the music genre. The collections of both Luiz Felipe and Menescal are famous throughout Brazil, and far beyond. However, unless you are ever privileged enough to see them for yourself, you can scarcely imagine the scope of these fine collections. 

Ray and I had seen so many beautiful plants during our short time in Brazil, that there was only one way to make the trip better. We had to go into the field. Sure, we started on our very first day exploring the local bromeliad habitats around Rio, but we longed for some real adventures. My goal was to photograph terrestrial bromeliads in Brazil while Ray, well he’s a Neoregelia man, but he just loves everything. So we consulted with our friends, and at their suggestion, made plans for a trip to the famed Chapada Diamantina in Bahia. Here, we had hopes of finding not only terrestrial bromeliads, but also other interesting plants. Famed as one of the most spectacular natural wonders, the Chapada Diamantina is a land of table topped mountains or tepuis, much like those of Venezuela. We left on our journey with Rafael De Faria as guide, first a few hours by air to Salvador where we met up with Giorgio Croce a fellow plantsman, then an overnight trip by bus to Palmeiras, in the Chapada. From there, we got a ride by truck to Pousada Verde, where we would set up base.  That first day we got an early start and traveled by foot to the head of a trail leading to Cachoeira da Fumaica or ‘Smoking Falls’, a spectacular cascade, second tallest in the world, falling nearly 1300 feet, during which much of the water turns into mist. Rafael said “There’s going to be a little climb, just take it easy” to which I thought “A little climb? I can handle that.” 

Well from that point we took off nearly straight up, on a switchback trail of slick marble and sandstone, hung on the face of a sheer rock wall that seemed ten miles high. Actually, it was a little over a thousand foot climb in altitude, spread over several miles of trail. Of course as plantsmen, we were off the trail as much as on, and did a lot of extra climbing up and down various rock features. When we finally achieved the top of the mountain, we found that it was a plateau, and we had another few miles to go to reach the waterfall, which we did after a couple more hours of side trips and wading through swamps, climbing over rock ridges and deep crevasses. It was spectacular, but could not compare to the beauty of the plants we saw on the way. Here we were treated to a non-stop array of botanical treasures from Dyckias to Orthophytum burle-marxii with glowing red centers, Neoregelia bahiana with tight tubular growth to Vriesea chapadensis with golden rosettes and inflated red spikes. We saw Hohenbergia leopoldo-

horstii, Neoregelia mucugensis and flaming red Orthophytum navioides.  Our trip back was along the same path, but to make it interesting, it rained most of the way. At times like these, at my age, I begin to wonder if I already had seen my peak, if trips like this were maybe getting just a bit too risky or strenuous to be really worthwhile. Ray did great, he’s a couple years my senior, but in fine shape. George is light and agile, from the mountain town of Novo Friburgo, and Rafael, well he’s in a class by himself. A mountain of a man, leather tough and inexhaustible with a permanent smile and a kindness you can see from the outside. I’ve never seen anyone climb so effortlessly as Rafa, usually shirtless, often shoeless, he just makes it all look easy. Finally, base camp and water! We had not taken enough water and were all dehydrated. We ate a good hot meal, showered and crashed for the night. Next day, things once again bristled with expectations.  

We started early once again, this time with a truck and driver. First stop was a spectacular rock formation near another waterfall, Cachoeira do Riachinho, and only a few hundred yards off the road. We climbed the rocks, which were covered in all manner of plant life. Everywhere we looked, we would see something different. Rupicolous Laelias and Brassavolas grew alongside Philodendrons, Anthurium and various species of cacti and Vellozias. Vriesea lancifolia, looking for all the world like a little Hohenbergia, fooled Ray and I. Neoregelia bahiana, a green, tubular form, grew in masses atop the highest, most exposed rocks. Spectacularly large Cyrtopodium orchids grew in full sun, along with an unidentified species of Orthophytum. 

spectacular blooms that stood out like beacons in the forest. We encountered Neoglaziovia variegata, first a few scattered, then by the dozen then hundreds. A peculiar species, it has stiff, banded leaves that grow in pairs or maybe three for four at most, like arching banded sabers out of the rocky soil. Almost half of the plant remains buried, perhaps an evolutionary defense against forest fires that the area is prone to. We found another very gentle, long sloping waterfall near the trail, which looked all too inviting for a swim, but we were far to rushed. All around the ground and in the trees were thousands if not millions of Tillandsia streptocarpa, like nothing we had ever seen. On the far side of the river were some colonies of plants that looked like big Dyckias or Encholiriums, so we doffed boots and waded across. The rocks were like a garden, planted with clusters of Orthophytums and Cryptanthus. At the top of a short cliff were the giant red and green plants, which we now felt sure were Encholiriums, though no sign of any blooms were there to give us a clue. Mountain trails gave way to rolling caatinga or scrubland with lots of interesting plants, but a dreadfully repetitive look. We found Dyckias and Bromelias, and the occasional Aechmea bromeliifolia. Time was running out as the afternoon wore on. We were outside of the mountain range, which marched towards the horizon in an unbroken undulating purple formation. After hours, we finally reached the end of one of the chains and turned into the interior valley. Instantly the red rock formations were once again alive with a botanical garden of exotic plants. Clusters of Acrocomia palms grew more resplendent here than on the caatinga, and even from the truck, we could see the glint of cherry-red Orthophytums in the rocks above. We couldn’t stand it and pulled off the road at first opportunity. We ran wild among the rocks, climbing and shouting, once again captivated by the wondrous sights. Orthophytum albopictum, beyond a doubt one of the most spectacular of all Orthophytum species, grew out of crevices, under overhangs and exposed to full sun on top of rocks. Jet-black bottle-shaped Hohenbergia pennae grew in clusters on the exposed rocks.