Kautz Crossing

Day 334: For the way the rest of the week has gone, it comes as no surprise that I was stung by something big, black and bad-tempered while I was out looking for mushrooms this morning. I didn't ask for its ID, but since I wasn't dead by the time I got back to the car, it wasn't a bee. I knew it wasn't a bee anyway, because I saw it as I swatted it off the back of my hand. Nor was it a deer-fly, because I am having a typical "wasp" reaction: my hand has swelled up to the size of a basketball and hurts clear up to my ears. Slight exaggeration there, yes, but swollen and painful nonetheless. I almost aborted the second part of the day's plan...the part (forgive me, Kevin, for not sticking to the prospectus) formulated while I was looking for 'shrooms. I've been telling myself I wanted to walk up Kautz for the last couple of weeks, but the thought of hordes of visitors on the trail was a strong deterrent. Today was cloudy and cool, and I covered the mile to and from the creek crossing without seeing a soul once I'd gone past the viewpoint near parking. The joy of being alone in the woods even seemed to take the "sting" out of my poor hand as long as I was in motion. It wasn't much of a hike: mostly flat, only a mile (one way), nothing scenic, although the area has a unique charm due to having been scoured by a glacial outburst event back in 1947. Three-quarters of a century later, not much grows there except slide alder, lichen and moss. But did I find mushrooms? Nothing edible, no. It's been a rough week. Maybe I should get up on the other side of the bed tomorrow morning. Or not at all.

Incongruous Bridge

Day 49: First of all, my readers must understand that winter is not the easiest time of the year in which to find material for natural-history posts, but cold and wet notwithstanding, I went out today intending to make a quick one-mile trip to Rainey Creek and back, retracing my footsteps. As plans often do, this one went awry when I began following a side trail I'd never walked before, one which eventually looped around and reconnected to the main path. In so doing, I covered roughly two miles, my hands painfully cold despite being mittened and in my pockets for the most part. Over the next couple of days, I will bring you the results despite the fact that you probably can't fully appreciate the sacrifices I make on your behalf. That said, one upcoming post must be prefaced with a warning: I found something rather bizarre and creepy, and I don't want to hear any lectures on the danger of hiking alone. If you are easily freaked out, avoid these pages tomorrow.

Now, to the point: Rainey Creek is a pleasant little natural area at the east end of Riffe Lake and is administered by Cowlitz Wildlife. As such, it is the site of game-bird releases and should be avoided during hunting season. It should also be avoided in spring and early summer when the mosquitoes are thick in the air and very, very hungry. It is at its best when the grass is sere and gone to rosy-tan, for then you can see the abundant lichens (mostly Usnea species) on the trees. The air is particularly clear here, and consequently, Usnea longissima grows in profusion on the trees closest to the water. A future post will feature the loveliest of lichens, at least for my tastes. That said, anyone walking the main trail to Rainey Creek will be following an old road which is still used sometimes by Cowlitz Wildlife vehicles. Perhaps that explains the sturdy and incongruous blue bridge which comes as a bit of a surprise to hikers more accustomed to cedar-puncheon structures or logs. Metal or not, lichens are colonizing its surface, Parmelias and Hypogymnias having taken hold in the thin dust adhering to the steel, and giving evidence that Nature is stronger than Man.

Wrong Waterfall

Day 211: On a typical work day, I have half an hour ot so to take a little hike. If my other work is done, I can extend that by searching out material for my weekly Park Facebook posts. To that end, I decided I'd take a long-abandoned trail up the south side of the Nisqually River in the hopes of finding an odd lichen, a new grove of Calypso orchids or some other noteworthy plant. I'd projected my turn-around point to be at the waterfall visible from the Longmire bridge. I didn't make it. Another waterfall got in my way. The streams in the Park are running at spring levels, swollen with snowmelt and therefore dangerous to attempt crossing. As they say, "discretion is the better part of valor," so I cut my exploration short and put it back on the list for another day.

Abandoning Pretense

Day 34: I can't do it. I cannot continue pretending to myself and to my readership that it's a lovely day for a walk on the trail, or that the metaphorical weather will change for the better if we just wait out the cloudburst. The truth of the matter is that my country just dealt itself a mortal wound, and I am reeling as I try to make sense of "human rights and equality" as something which can be discarded at the whim of an individual's power. Nor can I wrap my head around policies which deny science and turn a blind eye to matters of global importance, fueled by greed. I cannot go on without speaking out against racism and misogyny and the thousand other evils which dominate the palette of the current political sphere. Each morning, I rise in the hopes that something has changed, but the changes I see are for the worst. I fear my neighbours. I am afraid to voice my feelings to all but the closest of friends. At my age, I despair of ever again being proud to acknowledge myself as an American. I have nothing to offer any other country, no skill which would make me desirable as a refugee/immigrant to another nation.

Are there no wiser leaders, familiar with the machinery of politics, who know of legal means and measures by which this descent into despotism can be stemmed? Where are the champions of good and decency? When will they stand up and save us from a detestable administration which would make America hate again?

Help Or Hazard?

Day 16: With decent weather for a few days and nothing on my schedule, I've been able to get out to enjoy some autumn hiking, including a six-mile loop in Pack Forest which took me up the Reservoir Trail and down the more popular Hugo Peak Trail. The Reservoir Trail tends to be quite muddy lower down, and in an effort to provide better footing, Pack has seen fit to mount 2 x 4 fencing on the surface of the plank "bridges" which span the soggier areas. While this installation may be marginally better than a slick board when wet, even a light frost renders it treacherous. I have gone "skating" across the grid many a time, even when taking utmost care. Ordinarily, I would not contemplate stepping off the official path, but here, my safety takes precedence over other considerations and like most other people who hike these trails, I will walk alongside the boards, preferring muddy boots to possible injury. However good Pack's intentions were, this innovation goes into the category of "it seemed like a good idea at the time," and needs reevaluation.

Bridge Over Rainey Creek

Day 14: Rainey Creek is not a place you want to visit during mosquito season, but during early spring or mid-autumn, the walk to the bridge can be a delightful diversion. However, if you go during hunting season, you should be advised to wear orange. The brush is thick in places, and you wouldn't want your movement to be mistaken for that of an elk or pheasant. The first half-mile follows an old road, but once you've crossed the bridge, muddy trails take you in various directions. Today, I explored a branch I'd never followed and as enticing as it was to think about continuing on when the path began to climb after a short ways, I had other things on my agenda and decided to leave it for another visit when I can make botany a priority. That said, I was pleased to find the Usnea Tree doing well...but that's for tomorrow's post.

The Spirit Of Adventure

Day 43: The spirit of adventure courses strongly through my veins, never mind that I don't go as far or fast as I once did. Mountains don't have to be 14,000' tall to have an "other side," and bridges still lead to undiscovered worlds where exploration may bring a "life list" lichen to light. I cannot resist the pull of a trail fading into the distance; I must pursue it until I can go no farther, whether turned back by the lateness of the day or by the counsel of my joints. A stump on the horizon becomes a goal, and once attained, another takes its place in a succession of small victories. Driven by an insatiable curiosity, I go no farther than "halfway," the point of stamina which dictates return indisputably, but I am not content until "halfway" has been reached. It is just that which compels me: the bonus of discovery. When the progress of my travel tells me it's time to go home, I always wonder what I might have found if I'd just taken one more step.

How Low Can It Go?

Day 364: This bridge is a remnant of the old highway which used to pass through the town of Alder prior to the early 1940s. Like most of the towns in this neck of the woods, Alder was little more than a whistle-stop, although it did host the proverbial "one-room schoolhouse" on a little knob of land at the edge of town. Unfortunately for the residents, Tacoma Power saw potential in the nearby Nisqually River and decided to build a hydroelectric dam. The population of Alder relocated, and the little town was drowned as the Nisqually backed up behind the dam to become what is now known as Alder Lake.

In the 25+ years I have lived in the immediate area, I have seen the tips of these bridge timbers only a few times. I have never seen their bases, not until this autumn (for scale, note the family at the left end of the bridge). The lake is lower than it has even been in my memory, evidence of last year's low snow-pack and this summer's dry weather. Tacoma Power must maintain a certain requirement of cubic feet per second flow through the dam, and must also ensure that the water temperature does not exceed that necessary to maintain salmon habitat downstream. Failure to comply carries a hefty fine. The power company is caught between a rock and a hard place. They also depend on recreation dollars from the various campsites they maintain on the shore of the lake.

I never thought I'd hear Washington described as droughty, not here where lichens grow in abundance and moss curtains the forests, but we are already in a bad way which is only destined to become worse unless the rains come at flood-producing rates. Alder Lake? It's almost a desert out there. Can you spot the bridge in this photo?

Bridges And Beavers

Day 120: Going 'round and 'round on the Tahoma Woods boundary trail is rather monotonous, but it is preferable to walking on the road. However, it's possible to change up the route a bit by taking another short path to the river. This trail is maintained by the students and staff of Columbia Crest School for the most part, although occasional anonymous Parkies will help out by clearing away easily moveable storm debris. It is one of a very few access points to the Nisqually along SR 706 and is not widely known. This bridge crosses a small boggy area fairly close to the end of the trail. Frogs can be found here occasionally, and today marked my first sighting of larger wildlife.

I'd gone to the river and was just climbing back up a staircase of roots when I heard something crashing through the brush. I checked up short, and a good thing I did, or an enormous beaver would have run me down. I am tempted to say that it was the largest beaver I've seen, but my estimate of its size might have been affected by proximity. We stood for a few seconds no more than six feet apart, equally surprised and making eye contact. I fumbled for the camera but was not quick enough on the draw. Beaver slid down a six-foot bank and with a few noisy slaps of its broad tail, submerged in a cloudy pool and was lost to sight.

Bud Blancher Trail

Day 60: Since discovering the new Bud Blancher bike path/walking trail, I have been wondering who Mr. Blancher was and why he got a trail named after him. Asking locals who were walking the trail got me nowhere, so I resolved to take the puzzle to the next level. I figured the newspaper office was a good place to start, but the receptionist said that she knew the story poorly and was reluctant to give out any information which might prove to be wrong. She suggested I call the town clerk. The town clerk referred me to the planner's office where I left a voice message. When Doug Beagle returned my call this afternoon, he gave me a brief history before we got sidetracked onto discussing future, larger plans for the trail system.

So who was Bud Blancher? Was he a former mayor or something? No, he was an aviator and an inventor, and made his fame and fortune by developing a shoulder harness for pilots. He was also an avid bicyclist who once spent 13 months riding around the periphery of the United States. When he passed away in 2007 at the age of 75, his family donated funds from his estate toward development of the trail which now bears his name. Now when I walk along this lovely path, if someone asks me if I know who Bud Blancher was, I'll be able to tell them, "Yes, as a matter of fact, I do."

A New Character

Day 25: My regular readers will have seen me in any number of disguises, some of which (Morgan Corbye, for example) have distinct personas. Most are recurring roles, but even so, not all are named. Lest anyone think I have a multiple-personality issue, be assured that almost every character is simply a closer focus on some particular trait of the "whole me"; a macro view, if you will, which only shows one portion of the greater subject. That said, the Beatnik is new, and was born out of desperation when I needed a costume I could wear while planting trees in the soggy soil of a wetland area. Long skirts were obviously out of the question, and I didn't want to spoil any of the items in the Captain's copious wardrobe. I'd gone zombie for last year's event because that was its specific theme. This year, it was open to the imagination.

After an uninspiring visit to Goodwill, I turned back to my own closet for ideas. When the black turtleneck surfaced in my t-shirt drawer, Maynard G. Krebs made a dash across my mind. I had the trousers and beret...what else did I need? Since I couldn't very easily work in non-prescription sunglasses, I dragged out an old pair of specs with a dark frame. A second trip to Goodwill brought the costume almost to perfection with the addition of a black velvet jacket, but during a dress rehearsal, I still felt that something was missing for the stereotype. And then I realized what that one item was.

It just so happened that several years ago, I mooched a handful of bearskin trimmings from a taxidermist to incorporate into a crafts project. I still had quite a bit left, so it was just a matter of selecting a piece which would work as a goatee and trimming it to shape. A combination of mousse and spirit gum worked to conceal the thick hide's edges, and once it was tacked to my chin, it looked like it had grown there. Of all the costuming I've done, this was the first time I'd ever cross-dressed for a part!

Ohop Creek Bridge

Day 4: A month or so ago, a friend was exploring one of those roads that go nowhere and discovered at its end this quaint old bridge. Today, following in his tracks, I paid it a visit, puzzled at myself for having neglected to do so at any time over the course of more than two decades. The scene begged to be converted into an impressionistic painting with its magical light and touch of autumn color, so I ask my readers' forgiveness for posting two "artworks" back to back.

South Bridge

Day 28: After putting in a couple of unscheduled hours in the office this morning, I donned my other hat, drove the opposite direction and went to my second task happy to be out of doors one more time before the weather changes. I took advantage of relatively dry grass to make a patrol for invasive weeds in a part of the Nisqually Land Trust's Ohop Valley property I'd not explored fully, and took the camera and tripod with me in order to make an HDR shot of the southernmost bridge. The northern bridge spans a small backwater, as opposed to the south bridge which crosses the stream itself. In a flood, Ohop Creek leaps from its banks here and sometimes rises high enough to flow across the road. The creek below the bridge has been restored to a natural meander, and the section above the bridge is slated for rehabilitation in the next few years.

Frog Bridge

Day 224 (Part A): While on patrol for invasive weeds and litter at the Nisqually Land Trust property in Ohop Valley today, I had to work my way through waist-high grass to reach the water's edge where a beer case was lodged against the shoreline. In doing so, my heavy footfalls startled a number of bullfrogs. As I looked around for the source of the splashes, my eye was caught by the reeds floating on the water and mud-puppies resting on a rock just below the surface. It was only then that I noticed the graceful arc of the bridge where it was reflected and the inviting visual line created by old posts marching beneath the span. "That's worth a picture," I said to myself. I snapped a couple of quick shots and then remembered that I had the tripod in the car. "Oh, I can do an HDR of this!"

By the time I got back (the car was a quarter mile away), a few frogs had returned. Again, my descent to the water's edge was punctuated by enormous splashes. I set up the tripod and planted my feet in one spot, determined not to move until at least one frog made an appearance. After all, I was going to be there a while, but I knew I had to be perfectly still to have any chance of capturing one in the lens. I got sidetracked listening to Yellowthroats chanting, "Wickedoo-wickedoo-wickedoo, WEET!" and shifted my weight. Splash! A foot from my foot, a bullfrog dived into the water. I hadn't known he was there.

Eventually, I got a couple of frog photos as well as the requisite exposures for an HDR image (in this case, I used five). Stay tuned for Part B! That's where the frogs come in!