Mountain Plants of the Western Cascades

Posts Tagged ‘Monardella’

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.

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 »

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 »

What a gorgeous sight! And smell! I had to stop and smell almost every Cascade lily I passed on my way to and from the Warner Lookout.

With the gravel roads lapsing into disrepair the last few years, I hadn’t managed to make it to Groundhog Mountain, one of my very favorite places in the Western Cascades, in three years (see Butterflies and More at Groundhog Mountain), and my friend John had driven on that trip. It was past time to return. While the butterfly group (NABA) has been heading up there lately via Road 2135, I decided to take a slightly longer route up 2129 past Moon Point and the Warner Mountain lookout. That way, if there were downed trees or washouts I didn’t want to cross, I could do the Moon Point trail instead. And I was pretty sure the road would be clear to the lookout since it is used during fire season. The night before I left, I pulled out my iPhone to get the aerial image of the area saved in case I wanted to do any exploring. Just off the road near the beargrass meadows up on Warner Mountain, I noticed what appeared to be a wetland. The telltale dark squiggles of meandering water is a good indication. Hmm. If I didn’t make it to Groundhog, I would have to check this out. It was only about an acre, but you never know what might be there. 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 »

The rocks at the southern end of the ridge are quite extraordinary, made even more beautiful by a fabulous display of colorful wildflowers, including sulphur buckwheat and skyrocket.

Clustered broomrape (Orobanche fasciculata) was popping up frequently. This particular plant had a reddish blush over the usual pale yellow flowers.

On July 26, John Koenig and I went for a long awaited trip to Balm Mountain. Back in 2011—a big snow year—we had made the trip up there (see Not Balmy Yet at Balm Mountain!), but since snow blocked the road and forced us to walk almost two miles to the parking spot, we didn’t have time to get to the south end of the mountain. We were relieved that nothing blocked the road on this trip or kept us from making it all the way to the south end of the ridge.

Although getting late in the bloom season, there were still plenty of flowers to satisfy us, including buckwheats (Eriogonum umbellatum and E. compositum), coyote mint (Monardella odoratissima), frosted paintbrush (Castilleja pruinosa), tongue-leaf luina (Rainiera stricta), and Oregon sunshine (Eriophyllum lanatum). We saw a gorgeous stand of western blue flax (Linum lewisii) along the road, but by the time we were hiking, all we saw of the many plants on the ridge were blue petals lying on the ground. Their ephemeral petals only last a day. Read the rest of this entry »

Three checkerspot butterflies delight in the abundance of coyote mint (Monardella odoratissima) on the rocky ridge just above Road 2154, although one had a quick taste of northern buckwheat (Eriogonum compositum) before returning to the coyote mint.

Although it had only been 9 days since I’d been to Potter Mountain with my rock garden friends (see NARGS Campout Day 3: Potter Mountain), when John Koenig expressed interest in going to Potter Mountain, I was anxious to go back. This was a new spot for John, and I wanted to look for more plants of the California stickseed (Hackelia californica) and do some more exploring along Road 2154 between Potter and Staley Creek Road 2134 that we travel to get up there. We had a beautiful clear day on June 30. Although it was still hot (what a wretchedly long heat wave!), it wasn’t as bad as it had been, and most of what we did wasn’t too taxing for a warm day.

Read the rest of this entry »

Lorquin’s admirals (Limenitis lorquini) tend to land on branches of shrubs and small trees, repeatedly returning to the same area. This makes photographing them easier than those that skip quickly from flower to flower.

On Thursday, August 7, Sabine and I headed up to Groundhog Mountain, accompanied by fellow North American Butterfly Association member Lori Humphreys. With the majority of the flowers on the wane, we had already figured we’d probably focus on butterflies, so it was great that Lori could come and help teach me some more about some of the tough groups like fritilliaries. She also looked a lot at the skippers, but I’m still not ready to put a lot of effort into the butterfly equivalent of LBJs (little brown jobs). Here are some photographic highlights of another lovely day on Groundhog. Read the rest of this entry »

There’s a fabulous 360° view from top of Potter Mountain. Here you can see Mount Bailey to the south. The air was cool and clear after the recent rains, and I could see Mt. McLoughlin and maybe even the top of Mt. Shasta.

Have you ever heard of Potter Mountain in Douglas County? I may have seen the name on a map, but I’d never heard anyone mention it. I had no idea what I was missing! I’m always excited to find new places, and several weeks ago when my husband and I were hiking along the ridge of Balm Mountain (see Butterflies, Blossoms, and Boulders on Balm Mountain), I couldn’t stop looking at a craggy summit a few miles due east. Later, looking at a map, I discovered it was Potter Mountain, and I was thrilled to find it was just off Road 2154, a major road (for a gravel road, that is) that traverses much of the Calapooya crest. This might actually be an easy place to access. With so many interesting plants in the Calapooyas, I couldn’t wait to check it out. Yesterday, July 25, I finally got to do it. Read the rest of this entry »

Is this California bedstraw (Galium californicum) this far north of its normal range? No, it’s Gray’s bedstraw (G. grayanum), still quite rare in Oregon.

When John Koenig said he had a day free to head up to the Calapooyas with me, I was excited about showing him the wonderful spot I’d explored a couple of weeks ago and seeing if my mystery plant was in bloom yet (see More Interesting Finds in the Calapooyas). So Wednesday (July 28), John and I headed back up Coal Creek Road. We couldn’t help but stop a number of times along the roadside because there was so much in bloom. The butterflies seemed to be everywhere, enjoying the flowers as much as we were. One of the plants that had drawn us both to this area many times is the rare Epilobium luteum. It was just starting to bloom. Also in the creeks and wet ditch that drain Balm Mountain were perfect Mitella caulescens, Veronica americana, masses of Senecio triangularis, and some gorgeous Epilobium glaberrimum. It may have small flowers, but they are a lovely shade of rose and are set off by attractive glaucous foliage. Glaucous foliage turned out to be the theme of the day. Farther up the road, there was a long stretch of Agastache urticifolia in full bloom. This is a real favorite of hummingbirds and large butterflies, but neither that nor flowering Castilleja miniata and pruinosa seemed to be attracting hummers. Read the rest of this entry »