Mountain Plants of the Western Cascades

Posts Tagged ‘Delphinium’

The garnet-colored flowers of the well-named long-tailed wild ginger (Asarum caudatum) were plentiful.

On Saturday, May 13, I joined Molly Juillerat, her friend Michelle, Molly’s dad Lee, and his girlfriend Liane for a hike. Given the forecast for low 90s and the late flowering after such a cold, wet April, I suggested we try the trail that goes along the North Fork of the Middle Fork of the Willamette River. It’s mostly through old-growth forest and is not far from the river, so I thought it would be relatively cool, not too strenuous, and hopefully there would be some pretty woodland flowers. I hadn’t been there since April of 2014, not long after they constructed that section of the North Fork trail (see New Trail to the Base of Buffalo Peak), and none of the others had ever hiked it, although Molly had surveyed in the area back when she was still the botanist for the district.

Michelle was thrilled to have spotted this unusual and very large fungus, sitting right on top of a log, looking rather like a burned-at the-top, sinking soufflé.

These heart-leaved twayblade (Neottia cordata) were growing on top of the stump of an old-growth tree. I don’t think I’d ever seen them growing like this.

Interestingly, the flowers were very similar to what I saw in early April of 2014, and here it was a month later in the season. Spring really was late this year! There were a number of obstacles along the apparently little-used trail, including creek crossings, downed logs, and piles of branches. In spite of those, we made it to the base of the rock just west of Buffalo Peak (or, more appropriately, Buffalo Rock since it is a stand-alone rock well down the side of the ridge). Just before we reached the base of the rocky slope, however, we had to crawl under a very large tree that had fallen down across the trail from the steep slope above, and crossing it below the trail was block by a tangle of branches. Everyone was very good-natured about it, rather enjoying the challenge. I was just relieved we could still find the trail.

I rarely see snakes in the forest, but just like on my first time on this trail, we saw garter snakes. A pair of them were sunning themselves on a mossy log by a wet spot.

On the way back, we decided to look for a shortcut and bushwhacked off the trail at a bend where the trail was close to the road we had parked on. We did find the road, but it certainly wasn’t driveable at that point. We walked back on the mossed-over road, passing an open area called Major Prairie that Molly said the Forest Service had done some work on and she had surveyed many years ago. From here, the road was still maintained and not far from the intersection with the road that continues up past the top of Buffalo Rock. If I can get back to explore the beautiful, rocky slope, I might just park at Major Prairie, walk on the remains of the rest of the road, and cut over to the trail (I made some waypoints on my phone for this) to save some time and energy for the climb. The trail turned out to be a great choice for the hot day, and we all really enjoyed the walk, the flowers, and the company.

The columnar jointing on this rocky slope is spectacular. The sheets of gold stars (Crocidium multicaule) and Menzies’ larkspur (Delphinium menziesii) are like icing on the cake.

I was surprised Molly and Michelle followed me up the steep bank to where we could get an unobstructed view of the rocks and flowers. Here they are carefully making their way back down to the trail. Someday, I still want to climb all the way up the slope, but I’ll have to do that when it’s not so hot and I don’t have people waiting for me down below.

A sandbar in the North Fork Middle Fork near the end of our walk. The just-leafed-out trees along the river were quite pretty.

The Forest Service doesn’t mention this segment of the North Fork trail on its website, so here are some directions:

Take Highway 58 to the Middle Fork Ranger Station. Turn southeast onto Road 19 (the Aufderheide). After the bridge crossing, turn left and continue for approximately 23 miles. About 1 mile past the Kiahanie Campground and a third of a mile after the road crosses the river, turn left onto Road 1939. Stay left when you reach the intersection of Road 758 on your right after about 0.6 mile. Continue for a half mile until you see the trailhead sign on the left. The trail is about 4 miles one way. It is about 3.3 miles to where the base of the rocks suddenly appears.

On the way home, we stopped along Road 19 at a pull-off where you can look down at a particularly wild place along the river and across at the tall cliffs on the other side. The river was quite dramatic, swollen as it was from the snow melting at higher elevations. This is one spot where I’ll need a drone to get a good look at all the plants growing on the inaccessible cliff!

The river of large-flowered blue-eyed Mary (Collinsia grandiflora) washing down the hillside was punctuated by the bright red of harsh paintbrush (Castilleja hispida).

A lovely grouping of naked broomrape (now Aphyllon purpurea) parasitizing rustyhair saxifrage (Micranthes rufidula).

After spending time in the Spring Prairie area of eastern Lane County last year (see Exciting Day at Spring Prairie), I was anxious to get back there and do some more exploring. Way back in September of 2007, Sabine Dutoit and I had climbed up a big rocky slope just above Road 730 that leads to Spring Prairie (see Spring Meadow above Blair Lake). But it was late in the season, and all I remembered was seeing the dwarf lupine (Lupinus lepidus var. lobbii) that I associate more with the High Cascades—it is fairly common along the road near Santiam and Willamette passes. I had vowed I would return the following year when it was in bloom. But I didn’t. Now it is 15 years later, so I was long overdue to check it out during peak blooming season. How had it fallen off my to-do list for so long? I guess there are just too many interesting places to go. Read the rest of this entry »

The great camas (Camassia leichtlinii) was stunning. We simply had to climb up the wet, rocky slope to get a better look.

Even the clovers were growing en masse. Tomcat clover (Trifolium willdenovii) might be the showiest of our annual clovers.

On Thursday, June 23, I was accompanied by Adam Schneider, visiting from Portland, for a trip to Tire Mountain. Like me, Adam spends a lot of his time photographing wildflowers, although he gets farther afield than I do. He also has a terrific website, Northwest Wildflowers, with great photos, location information, and more. After such a rainy spring, I figured the plants would be in great shape, and they did not disappoint. It was hard to figure out what to focus the camera on—it was all gorgeous. Hopefully, the ground is still moist enough and the current heatwave is short enough that it won’t dry things out too much. Get there soon, if you can! Read the rest of this entry »

Looking north across the slope to Moon Point and Youngs Rock. I hadn’t seen such a pretty show of monkeyflower on my past visits.

On Wednesday, May 25, Nancy Bray accompanied me on a trip to the place I named “Coal Creek Bluff.” I had heard that the Forest Service would be further decommissioning the old Road 210 that I use to access the site to protect Coal Creek from further erosion. I wasn’t sure what this entailed, so I was anxious to find out if I would still be able to access this lovely spot, one of our purple milkweed (Asclepias cordifolia) sites in the Rigdon area. The last time I was there (in 2020, see Followup Milkweed Count at Coal Creek Bluff), I couldn’t make it to the last place you can park before a big washout on the old road. I managed to scratch my brand new car trying to turn around after coming upon a fallen tree. So this time, I just decided to park at the old gate where there is a large area to turn around and do the extra walking. I was surprised to find the road completely clear all the way to the final parking area. Darn! We could have shortened our walk. Next time I’ll know. Read the rest of this entry »

About the only thing blooming well in the large middle meadow was the gold stars sprinkled across the rocks. Snow can be seen on Carpenter Mountain not so far away.

One of the numerous places water cascades down the road banks between the 3 and 4 mile markers on Deer Creek Road.

I’m thrilled that the last month or so has been so cold and damp. It’s been much less stressful than last year’s hot and dry spring. But it has meant that I haven’t gone out botanizing much. Deer Creek Road off the McKenzie Highway is a wonderful place to go when all the small creeks and seeps are flowing off the road banks. And above the road banks, there are a number of rocky meadows above the road west of Fritz Creek. So when we had a break in the rain last Wednesday, May 4, I decided to go check it out.

I had planned to stop at Cougar Reservoir first, to see what was blooming on the cliffs along the reservoir, but the road was closed well before the cliffs. That section north of the reservoir burned in the Holiday Farm Fire two years ago, so they were undoubtedly logging the dead trees along the road. That meant I had a lot more time to spend at Deer Creek Road, so instead of a relaxing walk along the road, it seemed like a good time to climb up to the big meadows above the road, something I hadn’t done since 2017 (see A Return Look at Deer Creek Meadows).

Fritz Creek was gushing with high water coming from upslope. A bird whizzed by me. My first thought was that it must be a dipper, but it turned out to be a rufous hummingbird zipping low above the water.

It was still early, but it looks like it will be a fabulous season, especially if the rain keeps up. The gold stars (Crocidium multicaule) were still blooming well, but some had started going to seed. I spent quite a while collecting seed since that was one of the reasons I chose this destination. I’ve been able to get some blooming on my property every year, but it still isn’t self-sowing well, so if I want to see it at home, I guess I’m going to have to collect some seed every year. There was also Hall’s lomatium (Lomatium hallii), Menzies’ larkspur (Delphinium menziesii), large-flowered blue-eyed Mary (Collinsia grandiflora), and monkeyflowers (Erythranthe microphylla? and alsinoides) in bloom, but the latter probably won’t be putting on a big show until later in the month.

The most easterly meadow in this stretch is tantalizingly close to the road, but the banks are too steep for direct access.

Menzies’ larkspur and Hall’s lomatium blooming in the rocky meadow at the top of the easternmost meadow. The grayish clump in the middle is northern buckwheat (Eriogonum compositum) coming out of dormancy. The large, bushy, brownish purple one is a hotrock penstemon (Penstemon deustus). It often turns purple in the winter but is green by summer.

The climb up and down the steep 300′ slope to the largest meadow was tricky as always, but it really doesn’t take that long. And I think I’d better come back in a few weeks and do it again when peak season starts. On the way back down, I checked the aerial view on my phone to see if I could get over to the opening to the east. It looked pretty simple, and I’d always wanted to check out that most easterly meadow. The road bank is too steep to access it directly, but when I first arrived that morning, I had checked out the woods right by the edge of Fritz Creek where it goes under the road and decided it might be accessible from that way. But rather than go down to the road and back up again, I went across from the first meadow, easily accessed the top of the eastern meadow, and went back down through the woods. That meadow was quite pleasant, especially because since it is the end of a ridge, it wasn’t as steep-sided. I’ll definitely follow that route again next time.

A nice comparison between the green comma (top and left), hoary comma (middle), and California tortoiseshell (bottom). When they are busy flying around, it can be hard to distinguish them with their similar coloring. Note the green comma has light dots totally surrounded by dark brown on the edge of its hind wings.

This friendly hoary comma is lighter overall with no greenish “lichen” markings below like the green comma and fewer dark spots on the top of the hind wings than the similar satyr comma.

After that, I walked down the road to the most westerly meadow to see if the beautiful shootingstar (Dodecatheon pulchellum) was budding up yet (it wasn’t). On the way, I passed a large gathering of butterflies at a seemingly random spot on the road. There were 2–3 dozen California tortoiseshells and anglewings drinking and fluttering about (no small butterflies, but I saw a few blues, a Julia orangetip, and several Moss’s elfins over the course of the day). My guess was that some animal must have peed there, and the butterflies were enjoying salt and other nutrients left behind. I decided to do a scientific experiment and made a contribution of my own a few feet away. When I came back from checking out the western meadow, there were two gatherings of butterflies—at least 9 were checking out my spot. I’m certainly not the only one to have tried this, check out this article for a more detailed experiment (Butterflies Really Seem To Like Drinking Cougar Pee).

The green of the green comma is more blue in this individual, but it still adds to his camouflage whether on bark or gravel.

I spent a while photographing the anglewings, having already taken pictures of tortoiseshells that had been following me around earlier in the day. There were both green commas (Polygonia faunus) and hoary commas (P. gracilis). The green commas use willows (Salix spp.) as their host food plant, and the hoary commas like currants and gooseberries (Ribes spp.). Both willows and currants could be seen in the area, so it wasn’t surprising to see them there. I really wanted a better photo of an anglewing, so after they got somewhat used to my presence, I got some sweat on my finger (another good source of salt!) and tried to slide my finger under several butterflies. The green comma I tried it with wasn’t interested, but a hoary climbed up on my finger and drank happily while I got some good photos. I’m looking forward to another good butterfly and wildflower day soon, but in the meantime, I will be very happy if it keeps on raining!

While the rock garden area wasn’t quite as floriferous as usual, the east end had a lovely display of Menzies’ larkspur (Delphinium menziesii), and there were barestem lomatium in bloom everywhere.

The naked stem hawkweed (Crepis pleurocarpa) grows right in the middle of the trail.

On June 4, John Koenig and I went to Bristow Prairie in the Calapooyas. It was our first trip of the year here, but we’re planning to show this area to some folks from the Burke Herbarium in Washington in a few weeks, so we’ll be back soon.

We started our day by hiking the trail from the north trailhead (once we found it—the trail sign is now smashed under a fallen tree!). We were hoping to catch the early flowers, and there were still a few patches of snow in the road ditch, but the warm dry spring had already moved the rock garden area along. There were no exciting discoveries this trip, and there were surprisingly few butterflies or other insects for such a sunny day, but I thought I’d share some photos. Read the rest of this entry »

Looking down through ookow (Dichelostemma congestum) and tomcat clover (Trifolium willdenovii) at a sweep of Oregon sunshine (Eriphyllum lanatum) on the lowest cliff, June 4.

Menzies’ larkspur (Delphinium menziesii) and Oregon sunshine (Eriophyllum lanatum) on the west end of the ridge, June 18.

I mentioned in my earlier post about a trip to Eagles Rest in May (see Unusual Plants of Eagles Rest) that I was picking up farm-fresh vegetables almost every week in Dexter this summer. Because it was only about 8 more miles to Eagles Rest, the short trip up to the summit became part of my weekly ritual. I headed up there eight times altogether this spring and summer.  A great many species I was looking to add to the restoration area on my property grow there, so I was able to watch the flowering and collect seed of all of them as the season progressed. I love that this site is so short a hike and short a drive that I can be there in back in just a few hours, if that’s all the time I had, although when I was collecting seed, it sometimes took much longer than that. Here is a look back at the flowers I saw on my trips to Eagles Rest in June and July. Read the rest of this entry »

The wetland by the lake was filled with bistort (Bistorta bistortoides), Oregon checkermallow (Sidalcea oregana), and arrowleaf groundsel (Senecio triangularis). We hadn’t had time to explore this area last trip, but I like to come down here at least once a year. There are too many wonderful spots at Bristow Prairie to see them all on a single trip.

Follicles of Menzies’ larkspur still filled with seeds. Usually when an animal brushes by the plant, the seeds get flung out of the capsules. More than once, I inadvertently kicked a plant as I reached forward to grab the seeds, knocking them out before I could get any. Plants have so many clever ways of distributing their seeds.

After the terrific trip John Koenig and I had to Bristow Prairie earlier in the month (see Still More Discoveries at Bristow Prairie), I decided to return on July 15 to see the next wave of flowers. This trip was not nearly as pleasant as the first because most of the afternoon I was hounded by biting flies. Some looked to be deer flies; others were both larger and smaller, but they were all determined to drive me crazy. At the very end of the day, some house fly-sized ones were actually leaving what looked like bruises on my arms just minutes after they bit me. Luckily they didn’t itch for all that long. I’ve never experienced that before in the Western Cascades, so it was doubly disconcerting. Biting flies were one of the many things I disliked about my short tenure living in the Midwest. Read the rest of this entry »

Beargrass coming into bloom near the trailhead at Blair Meadows.

A rocky area at the edge of Mule Prairie with harsh paintbrush (Castilleja hispida), cliff penstemon (Penstemon rupicola), and Cascade fleabane (Erigeron cascadensis).

On June 25, I went up to Blair Lake. This was another place I hadn’t been to in peak season for quite some time, although I had been up there in late July last year (see Butterfly Day at Blair Lake). Unlike last year’s trip, there weren’t many different species of butterflies, but the flowers were gorgeous, and, for the first time here in years, I got to see the beargrass (Xerophyllum tenax) in bloom! Beargrass is an odd species in that the populations seem to either bloom en masse or hardly at all. There are different thoughts about what kind of schedule it is on, but it has been blooming far more often than the “every 3 years” or “every 7 years” and other ideas I’ve heard. Coffin Mountain seems to have a mass beargrass bloom every year I make it there—although I often miss the actual flowering. Although there have been lots of big beargrass years in the last decade or so, Blair Lake doesn’t seem to be on the same schedule as other sites. I haven’t seen evidence of a big bloom year for many years. But this year, it is definitely worth visiting. There were places by the road and patches up at Mule Prairie and farther up the trail at Spring Prairie where there were a great many in bloom, but most are still budding up, so it should be impressive for the next couple of weeks at least. I don’t think anyone knows exactly what factors are required to create a big bloom year, but when there is one, it is well worth the trip to see this impressive sight (and smell, although the strong fragrance of thousands of inflorescences can be a bit overwhelming!). Read the rest of this entry »

One of the milkweeds was close to the cliff edge above the quarry. Thank goodness for the long zoom on my camera so I could take the photo from a safe distance from the edge.

On Monday, May 4, I headed out to the Rigdon area southeast of Oakridge to check on the purple or heartleaf milkweed (Asclepias cordifolia). At home, my little seedlings had been germinating, and some of last year’s seedlings were reemerging, so I was pretty sure the milkweed would be up at Big Pine Opening. I was surprised to see how tall some of the plants were, and several even had a few open flowers. I relocated the “chia pet” milkweed plant(s) from last year (see Three Trips in a Row to Rigdon). It was still growing in the same bizarre manner. I’m really puzzled by this odd plant, but I’ll just have to watch it as it develops. I wonder if it will flower eventually.

Last year’s chia pet-like clump of purple milkweed is up again at Big Pine Opening. Comparing it to last year’s photo, it looks like it has fewer, larger shoots, but it is still way more congested than a normal plant.

Big Pine Opening is an open slope at the intersection of Road 21 and gravel Road 2135. On the side facing the gravel road, the hillside was been carved out for a quarry. Unfortunately, the milkweed only grows on the top of the slope on the side above the old quarry. After seeing milkweed growing in the relics of a quarry at “Maple Creek Meadow” (see Surveying Milkweed at “Maple Creek Meadow”), I’d wondered whether the milkweed might be able to grow in the quarry itself at Big Pine Opening. After checking out the milkweed at the top, I went back down to the road and walked partway up the talus in the quarry—I wasn’t up to the difficult task of going high up the loose rock, but, with my binoculars, I was able to spot two patches growing in the gravel along the north side, in the partial shade of a couple of young ponderosa pine. There appeared to be at least a dozen plants large enough to be in bud. One more plant was growing in the main slope. I’m not sure if I can get close enough to the plants for a good count, but I’m just pleased the population is expanding into the quarry side. I suspect there might have been more milkweed on that side before the quarry was created, so maybe they are repopulating below where they once grew. Read the rest of this entry »