All of the Colors of the Earth

John Day Fossil Beds, 5/23-5/26/08

Memorial Day Weekend found me leading a group of Mountaineer Photo Geeks to the Painted Hills in Eastern Oregon. The Painted Hills are one of three units that make up the John Day Fossil Beds national Monument. Located along the John Day River, the monument contains the highest concentration of mammalian fossils in North America. In fact several species were discovered among the fossil beds since their discovery in the 1800's.

Each unit is special in it's own right, but admittedly the Painted Hills unit is the most spectacular to behold. The claystone that make up the hills contain several different mineral deposits that create yellow, gold and red bands across the hills with black spots. As the are clay erosion takes its toll as rivulets of water carry the particles of clay away to make smooth mounds and contours of what's left behind.

The best viewing is in the afternoon when the sun has that late afternoon glow and the hills light up against the dark background of green hills and forests. But I had also heard the morning can be pretty spectacular too, so our first morning we watched as the sun rose behind clouds only to peak out once in a while to tease us with the saturated colors of the hills. We came back for the afternoon sun and were not displeased to find the clouds had mostly burned off - and the hills aglow with the afternoon sun.

Another day of colors and curves and I was ready to head home - overly saturated myself with the wonder.

A Visit to an Old Friend

Wallace Falls, 6.5 miles, 5/18/08

Back when I was first discovering the wonders of hiking, my sister & I found Wallace Falls. We would hike to the top of the falls and sit on the edge of the river watching the river rush past, racing to its tumult over the cliff. When my nephew was only a few months old, we introduced him to Wallace Falls on a very cold and chilly day - he fell asleep in the pack carrier my sister had perched on her back. This was our place to visit together in the spring when the green moss glowed against the wet black rock of the canyon walls.

I had revisited the falls only once again after I had returned home from school. Michael and I hiked through the golden maple leaves of autumn not long after we met. A quiet hike to a more sedate run-off for a blossoming romance.

This time, was with new friends met through the Mountaineers' Conditioning Hike Series. As it is early in the spring, the greens vibrated through the forest and new growth exploded along the river bed. We all gazed in wonder at the beauty around us in the company of the river's orchestra. The spring run-off exploded through the canyon, sending up mist from every fall, coating the walls in a glittering wet. And as in my memories with my sister, the mossed gleamed against the black rock.

Here I was, in the presence of an old friend, remembering the fun of sisterhood, shared with new friends. What day could be better?

Visions of Big Horn Sheep

Umtanum Canyon, 5/10/08, 5 miles, 1500 ft elevation

Today was the day we were supposed to climb Mt St Helens with our friends. But after last week's reconnaissance trip and finding far too much snow with the added danger of weekend rains, Michael and I decided to instead head eastward to the Yakima Canyon and the fabled wildflowers of Umtanum.

I had on several occasions read about the variety of wildflowers that could be found on the hills surrounding the canyon but never found myself among them. And as snow and rain fell on the Cascades, I couldn't think of a better place to hike than east of all that weather. Plus, with Michael taking the Mountaineers' Naturalist Class, it would be an opportune time for him to practice some plant identification.

The dogs were a little more then excited as we made our way under shrouded skies and were a bit much to handle as we stopped to look at each new plant and discuss the characteristics, so we let go of the leashes to let them wander along the trail ahead of us. We hadn't seen many people on the trail and actually hadn't seen anyone for at least 30 minutes as the pups sniffed here and there and played in the mud.

We had been following a little trickle of a creek up the canyon and stopped at one of the crossings to rest a little and giggle as the dogs laid in the stream soaking the cooling mud and water into their fur. Then Michael, ever so quietly, got my attention. "Honey? Look up the hill. Tell me if you see what I'm seeing." Sure enough, there standing above us, were 8-10 Bighorn ewes, evaluating the safety of coming down for a drink.

I rattled a few images off before we continued on, making room for the ewes at the stream. A little ways up the trail, I decided to circle back and take a few more pictures of them at the stream, but they had completely disappeared. They weren't at the creek and when I climbed to the top of the ridge they were nowhere to be seen on either side. Had our few minutes been a illusion? Without the pictures we really wouldn't be able to tell.

There's a Butt-Load of Snow Out There!

Mt St Helens, 3/4/08

WOW! Michael & I went down to Mt St Helens to investigate the conditions for our climb next week. Needless to say, the climb is canceled because there is just too much snow. We didn't even get out of the car to look around. We drove up the road through cut banks of snow still 5 feet high to the turn around point 3 miles away from the trailhead, turned around and drove back out.

But before we went home, we stopped by the Hulda Klager lilac gardens in woodland and the Cedar Creek grist mill and just played tourist for a while.

A conversation with a Fawn Lily

Duckabush River Trail, 5/3/08, 10 miles, 1200 Elevation

I slowly stepped along the trail creeping up Big Hump, the large hill between me and our groups' turn around point. The group had long ago left me behind, faster uphills than I could ever imagine myself going. Our co-leader lagged behind me so as not to give me any undue pressure to push myself harder than I'd be capable to sustain. It was a quiet respite after the chattering of the group - all I heard over my breathe were the sounds of water tumultuously rushing downhill and the far-off call of a male grouse.

As I climbed higher, the low-lying clouds began to form a dense thicket of fog around the trees, filtering the light to a low glow reminiscent of an ordinary December Day. But this was May, on the Olympic Peninsula. I have often started out on a trail in full glory of the sun only to be drenched to the bone by the time I turned around and dry again when I reached the car. There is no telling what a spring hike on the peninsula will give you. And visual treats were what I could expect today.

It was about this time, as I was thinking of the clouds and the changes in the forest as I climbed higher into the clouds, that I spotted the first of them. "Oh my," I thought. "Is that what I think it is?" My curiosity propelled my feet further up the hill at a slightly faster pace. As I turned the next switchback, there my suspicions were laid to rest - handfuls of Fawn Lilies lined the hillside above the trail, their white heads bowed low with moisture over their mottled leaves. "Hello my pretties," I breathed as I slowly walked past eager to walk amongst these little gems but not wanting to pass too quickly. They seemed to sparkle in the dark grey of the day. Other flowers awaited me further up the hill, and I was excited to see each one in turn - Chocolate Lily, Flowering Red Current, Small Blue-Eyed Mary, Penstemon, mini-monkeyflowers. Little jewels against the murky day.

We were well within the cloud as wee reached the peak and traveled along a moss-lined trail through the woods. My pace quickened here to stay with the rest of the group who had waited for us at the top of the hill. And in the murky cloud where little light made its way through the thick cloud and the forest canopy, our way was lit by the vibrant green of moss along the trail, which seemed to glow from a source all its own. The chattering again picked up, but I found refuge in the quiet of the climb accompanied by the sounds of the river and a happy grouse and my own short conversation with the Fawn Lily.

Coastal Forest

Kalaloch Nature Trail, 4/26/08, 2 miles

A good way to get to know a new area, or even an familiar one, is to take a hike n the local nature trail. Of all the years I'd camped at Kalaloch, I had never explored this little loop in the woods.

The coastal forest is in all its glory along the trail, with large trees blocking most of the sky so that the sunlight is filtered through green boughs making the forest floor a kaleidoscope of greens. Moss clings to anything it can. Shrubs fight for space, sunlight and nutrients in the soil - enough of a fight that they will grow anywhere they can get a toe-hold including the trunks of dead and even living trees. Flowers and mushroom spot the ground with often vibrant colors and sometimes muted tones.

A coastal forest is a place of life and in the early spring it is a place to see life blossom exponentially in the moist and nutrient rich world.