Mountain Plants of the Western Cascades

Posts Tagged ‘Calapooya Mountains’

The slope right below the lookout site is extremely steep and slippery. I didn’t even attempt going down there, although someday I think I might get to the bottom by following the trees down along the north edge. The tallest points in the distance are Mt. Thielsen and Mt. Bailey.

Great arctics have a two-year life cycle, so the adults tend to be abundant every other year. This year is an “off year,” but I’ve seen several this summer.

Balm Mountain, the highest point in the Calapooyas, has been one of my favorite places ever since I discovered it in 2010 (see First Exploration of Balm Mountain). Several times I’ve walked the trailless ridge between the old lookout at the north end and the high point at the south end, starting at both the north and south ends. What I’d never had time or energy to do was to head down the steep, gravelly slopes on the east side at the north end of the ridge. On July 18, I was on my own, so it seemed like a good time to see how much of this was traversable. Most of my friends either can’t or wouldn’t want to negotiate such a steep and unstable habitat, and I’d never ask them to. I also wanted to spend some time watching butterflies, which are particularly abundant in rocky areas of the Calapooyas when the mountain coyote mint (Monardella odoratissima) is in bloom; it had just been starting at Potter Mountain when I was there a couple of weeks earlier (see Finally Back to Potter Mountain).

The part of the road that gives me the willies while driving isn’t so bad on foot. There’s even a lovely display of Oregon sunshine. I had to stop and move some rocks before getting past it as soon as possible.

From the trip to Potter Mountain, I knew that Staley Ridge Road 2134 was in fine shape all the way up to the Calapooya crest, so there were less than 3 miles on roads 2154 and 236 before reaching the north end of the ridge that I was unsure about. I hadn’t been up here for 7 years since on the last few trips to Balm, John Koenig and I approached the ridge from the south end via Road 3810 (see Fabulous Loop Trip Around Balm Mountain). Ever since flatting my tire on the way to Illahee Rock in 2017 (see Ill-Fated Trip up Illahee Road: pt. 1, Illahee Meadow)—my fourth flat in a 4-year stretch, I’ve been much more wary of driving on little-used gravel roads, especially where there are burned or logged areas with open dropoffs on the side, like the spot where I was stuck changing my tire coming back from Illahee Rock.

This western white was hilltopping on the old lookout site when I arrived and was still there on my way back. Not landing very often, it finally stopped briefly to nectar on ocean spray (Holodiscus discolor).

It had gotten to the point where I was too nervous to enjoy the anticipation of going to many beloved spots because of my focus on all the negative “what-ifs”: what if I flat a tire, what if I get stuck up there for the night, what if I lose traction and go off the side of the road (the final scene of “Thelma and Louise” invariably goes through my head when I drive on roads with no trees forming a barrier along the edge!). I know I’ve done most everything I can to protect myself: I carry a Garmin InReach emergency communication device since cell phones rarely work in the Cascades, I tell my husband precisely where I’m going and contact him with the InReach throughout the day, I have lots of paper maps and software and GPS on my iPhone, and my all-electric car doesn’t have a gas tank to leak, belts to break, or spark plugs to fail. I’ve been up in the Western Cascades over a thousand times without ever being stranded (or flying off a cliff!), so you’d think that someone who majored in math in college would find the odds comforting. Still, I get uncomfortably nervous driving on backroads, and it doesn’t dissipate until I’ve successfully reached my destination.

Looking northeast to the northernmost slope below the lookout site, you can see the part of the slope I’m standing on is just a bit less steep and more stable, indicated by the shrubbier plants growing on it. The rocky spot a couple of ridges away is Potter Mountain.

Leafy fleabane (Erigeron foliosus) was in full bloom on the rocks of the old lookout site.

In the weeks before this trip, I’d decided I’d had enough of wasting so much time and energy—and impacting my health—stressing out about roads. I started meditating, worked on some mantras to boost my self-confidence, and came up with a 3-pronged approach to my driving issue. This was my first trip where I applied my new techniques. On the day before the trip, I worked on the relaxation techniques and tried to focus on how excited I was to go to one of my favorite spots rather than everything that could go wrong. Then, on the drive up, I took my husband’s advice to listen to a podcast to keep my mind occupied. I listened to an interview with Mark Egger, the Castilleja expert. It worked really well until he told a story about trying to get close to a rare species of Castilleja in Mexico by climbing out onto a cliff, and he thought he was going to fall off and die. I had to laugh about how that was absolutely the last thing I needed to hear at that time. As I approached the stretch of road where I knew there was one of those open edges with a steep dropoff, I focused on my breathing—deeply and slowly—and tried to keep my eyes looking down at the road surface. Upon reaching my parking area, I had a real feeling of accomplishment and didn’t have the fatigue that comes with stressing out for hours. I felt ready to do it again! Unfortunately, my plans for a quick return were thwarted by the start of fire (and smoke) season. Maybe in the fall. Hopefully, my stress reduction routine will continue to work for me going forward. It has also been really helpful dealing with the month of stress keeping an eye on the very large Bedrock Fire, which started a few days later (but thankfully is now more or less contained and never came closer than about 5 miles from my house).

Gray’s bedstraw growing in scree. I’ve never seen this species outside of the Calapooyas, but the few photos of the species on iNaturalist from California look very similar to where it grows here and on Loletta Peak.

The fuzzy, bluish foliage of Gray’s bedstraw doesn’t look anything like the thin, green leaves of our woodland bedstraws. I imagine it is a valuable adaptation for this harsh habitat. This is a female plant with hairy fruits.

With the road issues out of the way, I could focus on my plan to check out the slopes—if possible. In addition to my curiosity about what was growing in this extremely well-drained and rather unforgiving habitat, I was hoping to find one specific plant. Back in 2011 (see Not Balmy Yet at Balm Mountain!), I spotted a single plant of Gray’s bedstraw (Galium grayanum var. nanum), a species that is very rare in Oregon. It was growing on the ridge at the north end above a gravelly slope. I first discovered this species the previous year on nearby Loletta Peak (see Mystery Bedstraw Blooming in Calapooyas), which is more or less on the same ridge as Balm Mountain, so I had been looking for it on Balm. But while I had relocated this individual on each of the following 4 trips, I’d never been able to find any more plants. Surely with all this perfect habitat, there would be more plants. But scanning the slopes with binoculars hadn’t turned up anything, hence the desire to actually go down on foot (hopefully, not on my backside!).

Looking north from the first of the amazing rock formations, you can see both the main scree areas at the north end of the ridge and the lookout site at the highest point.

A fritillary (northwestern or hydaspe?) nectaring on coyote mint. This individual has an unusual spot-with-a-dot at the base of its hindwing.

The giant gash in the mountain below the lookout is too steep to even consider, but I was able to walk down a short way near its south edge, following a few trees and grabbing small shrubs when possible. I looked for solid outcrop rocks to put my feet on as I got more into the open gravel, but it was still quite slippery, and I had to use my hands quite a bit. When I felt stable, I pulled out the binoculars, looking for the unusual blue-gray color of the bedstraw. Well, I thought it was pretty distinctive, but in this habitat, it turned out to be rather common. Silverback luina (Luina hypoleuca), Oregon sunshine (Eriophyllum lanatum), and cliff penstemon (Penstemon rupicola) were all growing out in the scree. I had to remember the gestalt of the plant so I could form a better search image. I kept looking… and there it was! Now it was worth scrambling down a little farther to get close to a plant. I carefully made my way down to the nearest plant I saw. I found at least a dozen plants scattered about. So here finally was the main population of Gray’s bedstraw on Balm Mountain. There may well have been more farther down in the main gash, but I was satisfied at having found this much of it.

The slope a little farther south of the lookout is where the original Gray’s bedstraw plant grows. I walked down as far as the large clump of trees partway down. The bright green patch on the nearby ridge on the left side of the photo is the meadow I went to later in the day.

Rather than heading straight back up to the ridge, I continued sideways over to another gravelly area just to the south. This proved to be a little less steep and slightly easier to navigate, with a bit more solid rock. I found another dozen or two clumps of bedstraw here as well, so I collected one for the OSU Herbarium. Success! I headed back up to the ridgetop and over to the slope where my original Gray’s bedstraw plant was. I already knew from past visits that there wasn’t any bedstraw at the top of the slope, so I followed the trees down to an outcrop area about 300′ down the slope and 100′ of elevation loss. No sign of any bedstraw on the way down or farther down the slope within binocular range. I relocated the original plant, and—for the first time—noticed that it is a male plant. This species is dioecious. So a seed probably made it over here from the other scree area, but not being able to produce more seeds, it couldn’t start another population.

This friendly dark wood nymph stayed with me for quite a while as I tried to photograph other butterflies and moths in the meadow at the intersection of roads 2154 and 236.

With the hard climbing out of the way, it was time to switch gears and focus on the butterflies. There were lots of butterflies but the warm day made them active, and it was tough to photograph them here because of the steep grade and loose rock. There were lots of painted ladies, clodius parnassians, and checkerspots. I also saw a few swallowtails, some fritillaries, a great arctic, an anglewing of some sort, and a pacuvius duskywing. I only saw one hairstreak and a couple of blues all day and not a single copper. I’m not sure where they were. The most exciting thing for me was a beautiful sphinx moth nectaring on the abundant coyote mint.

Looking west from the Road 236 intersection meadow, you can see the long ridge of Balm Mountain and just barely make out the eroded slopes of the north end. The old lookout site is on top of the highest point on the north end at the right.

At this point, I was ready to relax and get on solid ground, so instead of heading farther down the ridge, I headed back to the car and drove down Road 236 to the intersection of 2154. There’s a large meadow there with a gravelly section at the north end that sits on top of the roadcut. This is right where John and I got stopped by snow back on our trip in 2011. There wasn’t much going on in the grassy part of the meadow, but with lots of blooming coyote mint, sulphur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum) and northern buckwheat (E. compositum) in the gravelly area, the butterflies were very busy. Another couple of sphinx moths captured my attention. They didn’t seem to notice me, flying very close to where I stood but moving so much as to make even video hard to capture. It was a delightful way to end another awesome day in the Calapooyas!

Like most butterflies, this beautiful white-lined sphinx moth loves mountain coyote mint. The video is at half speed so you can actually see how it moves.

We couldn’t go up Coal Creek Road without checking out the amazing spreading dogbane (Apocynum androsaemifolium) patch just past the 4-way intersection at the top of the crest (43.3998°N, -122.4561°W). We delighted in the abundance of butterflies and the intoxicating fragrance of the flowers. While most of the visitors were checkerspots, we also saw some fritillaries, parnassians, coppers, and all three of our “ladies,” including this American lady.

Julia’s orangetips rarely sit still long enough to photograph them, so I was really pleased to capture this lovely male who was making the rounds of the tall bluebells (Mertensia paniculata) growing in the roadside ditches.

Coal Creek Road 2133 which leads up to the west end of the Calapooyas is one of my favorite places to do roadside botanizing and butterflying. It’s also one of John Koenig’s, so on July 13, we drove up there for an easy day as John was still recovering from some foot issues and wasn’t up to a real hike. It was warm, but there was still enough moisture in the many seeps and creeks along the road to nourish the flowers, which in turn attracted lots of butterflies. Here are some photographic highlights.

We scared up a family of grouse along the road. The cute babies all flew up into the trees.

Read the rest of this entry »

On the east side of the ridge, the gravel is filled with marumleaf buckwheat (Eriogonum marifolium). This attracted a lot of pollinators.

A spring white caterpillar has just shed its skin to allow it to grow a bit more. I checked most of the rockcress (Boechera sp.) I saw. I found this caterpillar and another smaller one as soon as we hit the rocky area. I only spotted one egg. In the phlox area, I chased a fast-moving adult white who never let me get close enough for an ID, but it might also have been a spring white.

Several years ago, my husband Jim and I tried to get up to Potter Mountain, but the winter storms had left so many branches on the road that we gave up in frustration. I really wanted him to see the beautiful rocks up there, so I had again planned to go up last year, but then a fire broke out right next to the summit—the Potter Mountain fire. Thwarted again. The third time’s a charm, they say, and we did finally make it up there on July 2. It was a beautiful day—though a bit warm—so we had a great view of the surrounding mountains. We bushwhacked north on the ridge as far as the helicopter landing spot—only about 6/10 of a mile from the road. We’d missed most of the early-season flowers, but there were still plenty of things in bloom and enough butterflies to keep me happy. And since we accessed Potter Mountain via Staley Creek Road 2134 (in good shape, by the way), we were able to cool off at the end of the day with a short stop at the wonderful Staley Creek Gorge. Here are some photographic highlights of our day. Read the rest of this entry »

Neil Bjorklund at the rock garden all geared up for a day of butterfly photography.

One of the odd cat’s ears (Calochortus sp.) I’ve seen so often at Bristow Prairie. Not only does it have two extra petals, it’s not clear which species it is.

It had been almost 20 years since I’d had the opportunity to go out in the field with butterfly expert Neil Bjorklund. Neil’s website Butterflies of Oregon is the resource for the butterflies of our state, and he was a co-founder of our local chapter of the North American Butterfly Association (NABA). On June 28, we headed up to Bristow Prairie, one of my all-time favorite spots. Neil had been to Bristow Prairie a number of times, but he hadn’t been to the small wetlands that—as far as we know at present—are the northernmost outposts of Sierra Nevada blues. He also wasn’t aware of the south-facing bald I call “the rock garden” or “Lewisia Point,” two other excellent places to see butterflies. Our trip was mutually beneficial—I showed him my favorite spots, and he taught me a lot more about identifying butterflies. Read the rest of this entry »

The photographic highlight of the day had to be this cluster of trilliums visited by a pale swallowtail. The butterfly was as enthralled as we were and stayed for at least 10 minutes, allowing me to get over 40 photos from every angle.

For months, I’ve been working on and off to finish editing and doing the layout for the Saxifragaceae treatment for Volume 3 of the Flora of Oregon (I finally finished it so I felt I could take a break to write this report, however late). I had enough space to add a couple of illustrations and wanted to do two of the more interesting species, rusty saxifrage (Micranthes ferruginea) and Merten’s saxifrage (Saxifraga mertensiana). Our lead artist, John Myers, does most of the illustrations, but he has so many to do right now that I’m contributing a few of the species I’m familiar with.

Both these species are unusual in that they are able to produce asexually by vegetative offsets. Rusty saxifrage has tiny plantlets in the inflorescences that replace most of the flowers except the terminal ones. These drop to the ground and form colonies of clones beneath the mother plant. Mertens’ saxifrage often produces clusters of red bulblets in the inflorescences. Like the rusty saxifrage, these replace the lower flowers. From what I’ve read, it produces these bulblets in most of its range. In the Western Cascades, however, I’ve only seen them in a few populations. One of these is along Coal Creek Road 2133 on the way up to Loletta Lakes. Read the rest of this entry »

I was impressed that the whole group was willing to climb down the rocky ridge I call “Lewisia Point” to see one of the few populations of Columbia lewisia south of the Columbia River Gorge area. The lewisia is growing in the rocks by some low-growing serviceberry (Amelanchier alnifolia). Click on the photo to blow it up to see the lewisia’s delicate pink flowers.

A tiny bee enjoys the very small flowers of Thompson’s mistmaiden, a Western Cascade endemic.

For years, I have been planning to lead a trip up to Bristow Prairie for the Emerald Chapter of the Native Plant Society of Oregon. I always ended up having other commitments or others were leading trips around the same time. But, at long last, there were no conflicts, and on Saturday, June 25, Jenny Moore, Middle Fork district botanist, and I brought a group up to Bristow Prairie. It was a very hot day in the valley, and I was surprised at how hot it was even at over 5000′, but I’d already planned a fairly tame exploration of some of the highlights of the diverse area, so I thought it was doable in the 80° heat. We followed the same route I’d taken for a prehike on Monday, June 20, the first day of nice weather after I’d heard from Chad Sageser that the snow had melted and that he’d cleared the last of the trees off the road (thanks again, Chad!). The plan was to go to “Lewisia Point” first to see the rare Columbia lewisia (Lewisia columbiana) and the nearby shaley area, which has a number of annuals that like the moisture that remains there after the snow melts. Then back to the meadow to make a loop over to the rock garden, across the meadow to the lake and surrounding wetland, and then back to the road. Read the rest of this entry »

Jenny taking notes about the Siskiyou fritillary population on the south ridge. The downslope gravel was awash with spring phacelia, Olympic onion, and Menzies’ larkspur.

The old growth forest is quite impressive along the trail. The trail itself is so little used as to be hard to follow if you haven’t been on it before. We had to cross over a number of large logs and small branches (I moved what I could to make the trail easier to follow), but it is worth it to see all the interesting species and beautiful flowers as well as the view from the top.

Middle Fork District botanist Jenny Moore had never been to Bearbones Mountain and had mentioned to me earlier in the year that she’d like to go check it out. After getting an e-mail last week from Chad Sageser that he’d cleared the roads (2127 & 5850) to Bearbones (thank you Chad!!), I suggested we head up there on Wednesday, June 15, the one day of the week that was supposed to have some sun. Luckily, both Jenny and Sheila Klest were able to make time to go out hiking that day. After all the rain we’ve had (yay!), and a trip to the Ochocos the week before, I was really looking forward to getting back to the Western Cascades. This was also my first trip to higher elevations (Bearbones tops out at 4910′).

After missing the trailhead last year (see Return to Bearbones Mountain), I made sure to have the map on my phone ready. Chad had warned me that Road 5850, which leads to the trailhead, had been prepped as a firebreak when there were so many fires in the area last year. The edge of the road was logged, making it even harder to spot the trailhead, and forcing us to start our hike by climbing over a large pile of branches. The blooming dogwoods at the beginning of trail also helped me recognize the spot, and someone (Chad?) had left some red flagging across the road, but if you want to try the trail, having a map and GPS are a must, as there is no longer any trail sign. Jenny was interested in seeing the firebreak as one of the projects of the Forest Service is to figure out how to heal the roadsides after the disturbance and hopefully to replant with natives that are less flammable and lower growing. We all wondered why the downed trees and branches are left to dry out. It doesn’t seem to make any sense to create a firebreak and then leave all the flammable material in place. Maybe I’m missing something. Read the rest of this entry »

With the number of times I’ve been to Bristow Prairie (this was my 26th time), I don’t remember ever seeing the prairie so pink with fireweed (Chamerion angustifolium). Molly said the Forest Service had done a controlled burn on the prairie not so long ago, so that would explain it.

An Edith’s copper nectaring on mountain boykinia (Boykinia major) in the small wetland

On July 18, Molly Juillerat (and Loki) and Nancy Bray joined me for a day at Bristow Prairie. We decided to skip the trail to make sure we had time for the lake, so we parked by the edge of the main prairie. Our first destination was the rock garden since we knew it would be hotter on the rocks later in the day. June and early July’s heat and drought had dried it out earlier than usual, but I was able to collect some seed. From there, we headed over to the lake and surrounding wetland. Going through what is by late July really tall foliage is tricky because you can’t see the ground and any possible mountain beaver holes. But we took our time and enjoyed looking for butterflies and other insects on the way down. Naturally, the area was much moister than and still had many flowers in bloom, but it was dry enough to walk around the wetland without rubber boots. I don’t get down to the lake often enough, so I’m glad we were able to spend some time there. Read the rest of this entry »

A serene image of yellow pond lilies (Nuphar polysepala) at Bradley Lake

A female Sierra Nevada blue nectaring on sticky tofieldia. This common wetland plant turns out to be very interesting. Scientists have recently discovered that the tiny insects that get stuck in the sticky glands on the stems are actually absorbed by the plant—it’s partly carnivorous! Thankfully, it’s incapable of catching large insects like butterflies. I wish I’d read this before I was up there so I could have looked for insects on the plants.

I was so happy to have gotten back to the Calapooyas (see Return to Loletta Peak) that when Alison Center contacted me to see if I could tell her where to find Sierra Nevada blues or join her for a trip up to where I’ve seen them, I jumped at the chance to go with her. Alison is not only the president of our local North American Butterfly Association chapter, she’s now the wildlife biologist for the Middle Fork District of the Forest Service. And she’d never been up Coal Creek Road to Loletta Lakes or Bradley Lake, so this was actually “work” for her!

So on July 8, we headed up Coal Creek Road 2133 to the wetland east of Loletta Lakes where Molly and I had just seen the Sierra Nevada blues. As it was only five days later, I was pretty sure they’d still be there—and indeed they were, still flitting about and drinking from sticky tofieldia (Triantha occidentalis). There were other butterflies and bees, so we enjoyed watching all the insects. Read the rest of this entry »

The gash down the side of Loletta Peak is quite impressive. Amazingly, many plants occupy the steep rocky slope. In the near view is Balm Mountain (you can spot it by the logged triangle from quite a ways), while pointy Mt. Thielsen can be seen much farther to the southeast.

This large vole gave me just long enough to take its photo before disappearing into its hole below in the rocky area at the east end of the Loletta Lakes plateau. Does anyone know what species it is?

While I haven’t gotten out as much as usual this summer (work, drought, heat, now smoke as I write this), I did have some goals that I’ve been working through. After not being able to go up to most places in the Calapooyas last year because of all the treefall, and having missed out on the recent trips up Coal Creek Road for the Burke Herbarium Foray, what I was most anxious to do was to go up Coal Creek Road 2133. And since I hadn’t been up on Loletta Peak since 2015 (see Another Exciting Day in the Calapooyas), that was really my top priority. Happily, on July 3, Molly Juillerat was free, and, having never been to Loletta Peak, she was looking forward to seeing someplace new. As the ranger for the Middle Fork District of the Willamette National Forest, she’s been telling the Forest Service folks to go out and explore and get to know their district, something we both love to do. The boundary between the Middle Fork District and the Diamond Lake District of the Umpqua National Forest goes right across the top of Loletta Peak, making this is the southern edge of the district. Read the rest of this entry »