Forest Patina

The forest begins to darken. The sun is still high in the sky and a glance at my watch lets me know it's close to noon. Clouds had been drifting across the sky all morning, but this wasn't a cloud dimming the light through the trees - this was the closeness of the trees.

This is the kind of forest where I slow down, a forest out of a Grimm's brothers fairy tale where children are eaten and lost wanderers wake in a land of elves and not the Orlando Bloom kind. I both love and fear the closeness of the forest. I love it for the silence and stillness that lets me breathe deeply the earthy air while trying to calm my racing heart. It's the closed character of the forest I fear. I'm a bit claustrophobic so not being able to see far makes my heart quicken. I also have a vivid imagination so every drip from mist laden tree, every rustling of a critter I have to stop and listen and remind myself that all is well. That a wicked witch isn't coming to cook me in a stew like my sister would often tell me as children.

My pace slows as I push aside my apprehension to appreciate the beauty around me. In a forest this dense little light gets through the canopy above so the under story is sparse. It's winter now and I wonder if any of the small woodland flowers are able to brighten the side of the trail. Little white foam flowers, maybe some twin flower. A speckling of white against the dark soil and duff.

Dark and moist coastal air is perfect habitat for lichens and moss which I'm finding plenty of during my hike through Hoypus Point. Off in the narrow distance I see the greyish green of what I've heard refer to a Forest Patina (I googled it and google has no idea what I'm talking about). Just look at the image above, the lichens on the tree trunks give an appearance of copper as it ages. The same complexion as the Statue of Liberty.

Our Pacific Northwest forests are perfect for lichens and mosses and even algae to grow on the trunks of trees. And while the light hasn't changed in this section of the forest, it seems brighter now. Less foreboding, more welcoming. I find the patina to have an almost ghostly effect. I pause to wonder why these trees? Why this spot? Had I just not noticed the patina until now?

I softly lay a hand against the green bark and smile before heading back into the dark forest.

In the Shadow of Dege Peak

In the month I’ve been away, the alpine meadows have begun to tarnish under the summer sun. The vibrant yellows and purples of spring wildflowers are replaced reds and golds of autumn.

Just yesterday, my sister posted a photo of bog gentian – its deep blur bell shaped flowers a stark contrast with the yellowing grasses in the frame. It is the herald for summer’s end. My friend Karen Sykes would look upon the low-lying blooms with sadness knowing autumn was right around the corner and the first winter snows nipping at its heels. Soon the high meadows will be under feet of snow.

There is no such thing as a lazy summer at 6400 feet. Spring is a hard-fought season in the NW mountains with avalanche and glacier lilies pushing their way through the last snow drifts into July. As summer arrives, you can begin seeing the colors of autumn kissing the foliage and flowers start to seed. Life is on a limited clock in the alpine zone. In a few weeks, purple cascade asters will curl onto themselves and the only blooms left are the white heads of the pearly everlasting. But the huckleberry bushes and the false hellebore leaves change to more vibrant colors.

Albert Camus once said, “Autumn is a second spring when every leaf is a flower.” In an alpine meadow the flowery leaves come in the warmer hues of the rainbow. The seed pods are gathered by the critters who will live under the snow for the next months. If there is any season that luxuriates in the mountains, it would be winter. Flurries begin coating the warm meadow colors as earl as September and last well into our low-land summer celebrations.

In Seattle, our only hint of oncoming fall and winter’s first flurries are fresh faced kids waiting at the bus stops and the Halloween decorations stacked up at our local stores. But here, in the shadow of Dege Peak on Mt Rainier, autumn has arrived.

A Northwest Autumn

The skies are grey today. The onset of a northwest winter when it's darker more than light, the rain drizzles through the air and bright colors look dim.

It hasn't gotten to that yet - that will be near the end of January.

Now, the bright orange, red and yellow leaves on the trees add a colorful contrast to the grey sky.

They flutter and waft through the air, the leaves, to rest in the gutters and the occasional umbrella. In the mountains though, snowflakes are already starting to fall to cover the fall foliage in its winter coat.

Soon the color will be covered or gone and we will be left with grey.

That is winter in the northwest, but golden is what we see now.

The Scent of Green

Green has a scent.

Green smells like spring in a Pacific Northwest forest.

As the ferns unfurl their fronds reaching out for new life, you can smell it.

As the Salmonberry and Thimbleberry leaf out and blossom preparing for their juicy summer fruits, you can smell it.

As the undergrowth replenishes through warmer air and moist days putting forth sparkling gems of wildflowers, you can smell.

As the moss drips with rain water from the sturdy boughs of the trees surrounding you, you can smell it.

As the Big Leaf Maples and the tentacles Vine Maples spread their palmated leaves to collect the sun and rejuvenate their roots, you can smell it.

As streams rattle and crash over rocks and through banks of glorious and vibrant greens, you can smell it.

As you walk through a Pacific Northwest forest in the spring, you can smell it.

You can smell green.

Have you smelled it?

Washington State Parks: Field's Spring

Sometimes it pays to talk to the park rangers, volunteers and other employees of the state parks.
On my recent trip to Field's Spring, a park I had never visited before but will be visiting again, I was meandering around the parking lot and the trails between one of the lodges and the campground. The park is know for being a wildflower heaven during the months of May and June, so I was looking at all of the forest wildflowers popping up and was completely thrilled to be able to photograph both the male and female flowers of the meadowrue.

Before I had decided to stay close to camp (I was rather tired after the drive from Seattle to south of Clarkston), I had the opportunity to chat with Mike & Kathy the campground hosts. A very kind couple who enthusiastically showed me the wildflowers pictures they had taken on their hike up Puffer Butte, the high point of the park with views into Oregon and Idaho.  They found lupine, lomatium, calypso orchids, phlox, paintbrush and several other flowers on the trail and in the meadow at the top. Feeling the exhaustion set in, I decided to stick around camp and head up the hill for sunrise and morning golden hour photography.

So there I was, meandering around the campground and lodges when a beat up red sedan pulled up next to me with an older gentleman driving, his passenger was a big German Shepard standing in the passenger seat nose to the windshield and tongue hanging out. "You looking for birds?" he asked leaning his head out the window. One look at the car and the monster of a dog next to him, I knew he was someone with something to say. "No, not really. I'm looking for wildflowers - they're easier to spot."

"Oh. You want wildflowers. Well, have you been out the corral trail yet?"

"No. Where is that."

"You'll want to follow the dirt road here past the lodge to the gate. Go through the gate onto the trail. Take the Morning Song Trail and at the end of that trail there's a smaller trail that follows the ridge. You can go out there. You can go anywhere - it all belongs to the park, so it's ok. But that's where you'll find all the wildflowers you want. I know - I used to work here."

"Oh, thank you. This road here?"

"Yep. you can drive out to the gate too - there's a parking lot there."

"Thanks."

I watched as he drove off with his dog balancing in the front seat. I looked at the road he pointed out and decided that I needed to explore every corner since that is why I was there. His advice did not disappoint.

Just off the Corral Trail was the Morning Song Trail. A short walk brought me to sweeping views of the Blue Mountains and at my feet - flowers. Lupine, Balsamroot, Scarlett Gilia, Indian Paintbrush in so many colors I lost count and flowers I had never before seen.

I followed Morning Song to it's end but it hooked back into the Corral Trail. There was no trail along the ridge. I thought to retrace my steps, but instead continued along the Corral Trail to its end. I did find the trail along the ridge but will tell you about it in the book in a feature named Insider's Tips. These will be hints and tips from the people who know the park from the inside out.

Oh, and at the end of the Corral Trail is an old broken down corral and more views including a view of Puffer Butte.

To Get There: It's a short 29 miles from Clarkston, WA. Follow Highway 129 south to Asotin. In Asotin, Highway 129 turns right to head up into the plateau. Turn right to continue on Highway 129. The park is on your left 22 miles from Asotin.

Cataldo Mission

On a hill overlooking the Coeur d'Alene River and valley sits the oldest building still in use in Idaho. A mission built by the Coeur d'Alene Indians after they journeyed east to find medicine men in black robes and carrying spiritual books. And the black robes, Jesuits, came. Originally it was built along the St Joe River, but the area was prone to flooding, so the Jesuits found a new home for what was named the Mission of the Sacred Heart. The mission became a place of worship and learning for the Coeur d'Alenes and later a wayside for miners and settlers.

The mission is now an Idaho state park and is listed on the National Register of Historic Places.

I had the opportunity to visit the mission on a recent road trip to Montana. I had been driving past the park for several years and thought "I should stop in and see what this is all about." But I always felt too rushed to stop, which is silly since I like to take road trips so I don't feel rushed and can stop by little wayside gems like these.

This trip though, as I drove past to get to my destination in Montana, I told myself that on the way home I will stop. And so I did.

After watching the informative video and meandering through their exhibits, I made my way in the mid-day heat to the mission and parish house on the hill. It took the Coeur d'Alene 3 years to build the mission with the materials they had on hand - not a single nail was used in the construction. The chandeliers were made from tin cans and the wallpaper was either cloth from the Hudsons Bay Company or newspapers with painted designs in blue. The blue paint was actually stain made from crushed huckleberries.

You could almost feel the love in the craftsmanship of the Coeur d'Alene - the hand hewn flooring, the cut tin, the carvings on the alter. I laid on my back admiring the colors of the ceiling, the large center panels stained in huckleberry juice. Such care for an adopted religion that, for better or worse, brought education and civilization to the frontier and beyond.

The mission and parish house are simple buildings built on on a hill that was at one time beyond the edge of civilization. Now an interstate runs past it leading cars and people to other places at high speeds.

So while on your next trip, why don't you slow down for an hour or two and visit a quiet wayside for history or nature or for peace.

Walking in Enchantment

With names like the Hobbit Trail and Wind in the Woods Trail where you can find bird's nest fungus and witches butter fungus, Federation Forest State Park can be an enchanting place to visit. And, if like me, you had spent the previous day standing in snow for nearly 10 hours, and I do mean standing, waiting for navigation students to find their way through the woods then Federation Forest is also a perfect place to decompress.

Federation Forest consists of 619 acres stretching along Highway 410 and the White River. I've often zipped past the park as I'm heading to & from Mt Rainier and always think "I need to stop there." But never seem to.

Until now.

One of my resolutions this year was to visit Washington State Parks - wonderful little gems dotting our landscape. Often times we get too focused on our "big" parks: Mt Rainier, Olympic, North Cascades. We get focused on the grand landscape and the miles of glorious trails. But this year marks the centennial of the Washington State parks system and I wanted to devote a little time to our pretty little parks - well-loved by us but sometimes an after-thought as we drive by.

Looking for Trails to hike? Federation Forest has 12 miles of trails through big trees and along the river.

Looking for solitude? I saw a few people in the parking lot when I arrived and another photographer studying fungus on the Wind in the Woods trail. But as I set out on the Hobbit Trail, I had the forest, the birds, the streams and moss all to myself.

Worried about road noise? For most of my hike I was far enough away from the road to not hear the cars as they passed. I knew I was getting close to the 1/2-way point when I could once again hear traffic.

Looking for a little enchantment? Hike the Hobbit Trail and you will come across a hobbit village tucked away in the woods complete with gnomes and little blue dinosaurs. And then there's the moss. Moss everywhere - dripping from trees, covering the forest floor like a luxurious blanket, glowing in the sun.

Looking for raw nature? Ancient trees mixed with vine maples and sword ferns. Streams giggling through the exposed roots. It's nearly primeval.

My resolution is off to a good start. Won't you like to come explore with me?

Vision in Delirium

When my boss called in with the flu at the beginning of the year, I should have gone immediately for my flu shot. But I put it off. I knew it was going around. And I knew it was a nasty one.

So this past week I spent my time either in bed or on the couch. Cancelled my great weekend plans. And daydreamed about all the wonderful places I had been and places to go.

I smiled at the memories of shared adventures with friends, knowing they are the adventure buddies I can count on for future travels.

The weekend prior to my bedridden week, 3 of my buddies & I decided to snowshoe to the Big Four Ice Caves along the Mountain Loop Highway. A popular destination in the summer as it's an easy day hike for families becomes a stunning snowshoe in the winter. The cliff area of the ice caves can be very dangerous - in recent years there have been several accidents and at least one death from avalanches falling even in the later summer months. But it's the avalanches that create the ice caves. And the popularity of area has not diminished even with the dangers.

Our plan was to snowshoe from where the road is closed to just beyond the bridge over the Stillaquamish River. The snow pack for the day was pretty stable, but this area can be highly unpredictable so we decided to stay in the trees and not head up into the plateau at the base of the cliff.

The day was gorgeous. Blue skies and freezing temps. We were bundled up against the cold but wearing sun screen & sunglasses - always a great combination on a winter day. I love seeing the bright white of ice and snow against the blue Washington skies.

The road travels along the river in the trees with glimpses of the mountain peaks around the valley. We stopped often for pictures and to chat and then started again as the cold seeped through our many layers of clothing. And it was COLD! The moisture in the air had frozen along the river and coated everything in a feathery layer of hoar frost. At times it looked fantastical.

After we stopped briefly at the picnic shelter for lunch, we started out for the river through a marsh area. If we thought the hoar frost along the river was fantastical, the hoar frost here was other-worldy. It spread out like fern fronds inches from the snow & branches. It was a vision worth remembering.

The open air and views, the snow and sky, the walk and friends all worthy of reminiscing and thinking forward

Swirling

While on the Oregon Coast last month, one of my self-assignments was to photograph moving water with slow shutter speeds. I love the effect this creates - smooth silky water. I love the sense of motion within the image especially when photographed against solid objects. And what better place to play with water & slow shutter speed than the Oregon Coast.

We were down in the Newport area and decided to stop by Seal Rocks State Park. There are some lovely rock formations in the bay - sandstone, so they have worn away into some magnificent shapes. While most of my group focused in on the waves against the rocks, I went another direction. I began exploring the upper beach taking simple images of sandstone and pebbles until I reached the south end of the beach and smiled with delight. There in the sand, was a row of sandstone exposed by the waves. The stone had been smoothed by waves over the years: dips, crest, crevasses - perfect for parting & catching waves and foam then slowly releasing them back to the ocean.

I set up my tripod, first trying to get a good wide angle with the beach & bluff behind. But the day was a normal northwest kind of a day with heavy flat overcast skies that became unattractive in the scene. So I moved closer, composing on the rocks with the surrounding beach. But this still didn't seem to depict the motion I wanted - too much was distracting from the scene.

Finally, I stood on top of the rocks, hoping my boots would keep out the water, and focused more closely with an interestingly shaped rock in the foreground and composing with another along the line to draw the eye into the scene. All I had to do after that, was wait. And my patience was rewarded with a nice low wave coming up over the rock then down the other side. My shutter speed of 5 seconds was long enough in the low light to catch what I had hoped for - an interesting rock with silky foam & water cascading off & swirling around.

St. Mary's by the Sea

Along the Oregon Coast there is a little church tucked up along the sand dunes away from the highway. It sits back a little way from the beach yet the beach is ever present in the sanctuary. This is a church built by & for sea-faring folk. Those whose lives and often deaths were influenced by the ocean just beyond the dunes. A bench for contemplation sits at the top of the dunes. I like that bench and took my turn at photographing it but it was the warmth of the church that attracted me.

The door to the sanctuary was ajar so I coaxed my friend to peak inside. Being braver then me, she did & immediately called back "You have got to see this." As I walked into the sanctuary, I became breathless with excitement. The glow of the windows we had seen from the outside filled the church. We meandered throughout the little church taking pictures of details colored by the golden light from the windows.

But my favorite image remains this first one, taken as I entered the sanctuary, my breath still as I looked at the glory of it all. The pews lined up, light falling on them and dark shadows defining their shape. The geometric shapes of the golden windows shining brightly from the darkened walls leading your eye to the light on the red & white flowers on the side alter in the distance. Brought to me the quiet stillness I love so much in churches when it's just me and my reverence.