Mountain Plants of the Western Cascades

Posts Tagged ‘sphinx moth’

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).

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.

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.

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).

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!).

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.

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.

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.

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!

One week earlier, we looked for Sierra Nevada blues in the wetlands along the crest of the Calapooya Mountains (see Second Year of Sierra Nevada Blue Surveys) with Willamette National Forest wildlife biologist Joe Doerr. We didn’t find as many as we’d hoped, so thinking that perhaps it was a bit early, we decided to wait an extra week before returning to the area to check out some additional wetlands. So on Tuesday, July 18, Joe, Joanne, Lori, John, and I returned to the area near Loletta Lakes. We were joined on this outing by Matt Georgeff, another Middle Fork district wildlife biologist. Read the rest of this entry »