Umbilicaria Angulata

Day 224: Yes, I know this one won't win any beauty contests, but it is the first of its genus that I have found. It is a lichen: Umbilicaria angulata. Joe Dreimiller and I set off at 8 AM to hike up Rampart Ridge with the intention of giving one talus slope a more thorough going-over. We'd seen some odd Cladonias there during Bio-Blitz and hadn't been able to identify them readily in the field. On the way up, we paused to get photos of Parmelia hygrophila, and while surveying for other examples of that species, we discovered the Umbilicaria. Later in the day, we found this textbook specimen near the top of Rampart.

The Umbilicarias take their name from the fact that they attach to their substrate with a single holdfast. Although this lichen at first seems appressed, the lobes are in fact free of the rock, extending from a "bellybutton" (slightly below the center point in this photo). Black, irregular apothecia set in small depressions and a black lower surface with abundant, tiny branched rhizines clinch the identity.

In six and a half hours of searching under intermittent rain, we located three identifiable species to add to my Park database. I got GPS coordinates and better photos of some we'd classified during Bio-Blitz, and predictably found a couple more which I can't nail down. But the day was not altogether stellar. On the way down, I took a fall on a slick puncheon walkway, wrenching foot, ankle and knee in different directions. I wasn't hurt, but the knee is showing signs of bruising and my backside is going to be purple by morning!

Crow In A Crannied Nook

Day 188: This shot could just have easily been titled "How I Spent My Lunch Break," i.e., taking a quick trot up Rampart Ridge, an elevation gain of 1200' over 1.7 miles. I ran into snow a few switchbacks above the spot where this photo was taken, but the trail was easy to discern. Pausing briefly at the viewpoint which overlooks Longmire, I then continued on to the top where, on a less cloudy day, a spectacular view of Mount Rainier waits for people who step through a narrow band of trees and onto an outcrop. Today, only a thin slice of the lower Mountain was in evidence. With lead-colored clouds moving in and my office work waiting, I retraced my steps instead of following the ridge to complete the 4.7 mile loop trip, and it was a good thing I did. Only one raindrop touched my face on the hike, but within minutes of the time I got back to the Administration Building, the truth of the weather forecast became "precipitously" evident.

Mount Rainier And Rampart Ridge

Day 27: I have always been a morning person. Even as a youngster, there was no "sleeping in" for me. I loved the quiet of morning, having the run of the house to myself, watching the first shafts of light strike the yellow-painted built-in kitchen table where I sat to do my homework. I found morning light invigorating, fresh, alive and growing with each minute's passage. Morning light fills the spirit and lifts the mood. Oh, my compeers thought it was odd, especially since they looked forward to weekends when they didn't have to get up until nine, ten, even noon. By the time they were gathering for play, I'd ridden my bike to the library and was on my way home with a basketful of books.

With the coming of winter, I have tended to do that "sleeping in" thing more as I get older. When the house is chilly o'mornings, I find it hard to throw back the covers before 5:15, and seldom get out the door before 7. I always have the feeling that the day's half gone already when I get a late start like that.

Beneath The Ramparts

Day 22: It felt good to get back to work today after such a long hiatus, good to see that for all the posturing and foolishness of recent weeks, some stability remains in the Universe. Rampart Ridge hadn't tumbled down. The grasses in Longmire Meadow continued to gossip among themselves in soft whispers. The shadows took the pools and hot springs in their arms and sang to them as gently as they had ever done. Beyond the evergreens, above the ridges and folds of land, the Mountain dominated Earth and sky. Everything was just as I'd left it, if perhaps a little more golden around the edges. Three weeks is a long time to go without touching base with your oldest friends.