Scenic View

Day 27: The last ten days or so have been rainy and blowy, so when the Weather Gods cut us a break yesterday, I decided it was time for an autumn hike through an area managed by Cowlitz Wildlife and Tacoma Power near Mossyrock Dam. The trees here are largely deciduous: alders, big-leaf maple, cottonwood, the occasional cascara and an abundance of smaller, shrubbier species. The hardwoods often provide me with excitement in the form of fungi and lichens I don't find elsewhere, and indeed I found a few gems during my walk. At some point in its history, this was agricultural land. A barn stood on this hill, as can be discerned from a base of concrete which was never removed. The pastureland below was previously obscured by mounds of blackberries, but was mowed this last summer in an attempt at weed control. Now it affords a beautiful view of the area, and one which took me entirely by surprise as I looped my way back to my car. It wasn't a long hike...a mere four mile circuit...nor one with any substantial elevation gain, but after weeks of sitting, it was just the perfect length for a few rather breezy hours outdoors.

The Best Job

Day 241: If I had a dollar for every time someone has said to me, "You have the best job in the world!" I would be able to foot the bill for a research facility, equipment and staff to support my field observations of botanical rarities. The dollars are not forthcoming, sadly, so my usual response is meant to be comic: "Tell me that after you've humped an 8-foot two-by-twelve nine miles uphill in your pack in a pouring rainstorm because you need a bookshelf in your cabin." All joking aside, I knew a ranger who did exactly that. He also wore a full net suit when he went to check the campground at night because otherwise, he wouldn't have had a drop of blood left in his body. The mosquitoes at Mystic Lake originated in Transylvania.

Seriously, though...I do have the best job in the world. Okay, I don't get paid for it, but that's another story. I put in long hours: 13 on Friday, 11 on Saturday, 10 on Sunday, 9 today, and from the look of the pile on my desk, probably at least 8 both Tuesday and Wednesday. It's June. It's Park Service. It's nuts. Today, I swamped around in cold water, down on my knees counting micro-fungi at the edge of bear-tracked snow. I got slapped in the face with wet, prickly Balsam fir branches and snappy slide alders. I got gnawed by mosquitoes, and my knees bent repeatedly into positions they were never meant to achieve. I got filthy and cold in the process of "doing science" and when my day was done and I went to report to my supervisor, he was off somewhere else and I couldn't even brag up our finds. But I did leave him a present of two noxious weeds, roots and all, carefully centered on his desk and weighted down by the radio he'd sent me out with, on loan because our division is so underfunded that I can't have one of my own.

"Wait," I heard you say. "Didn't you say you love your job?" Yes, I did. The little moments of...uh...discomfort are nothing compared to the sense of feeling that what I do is valued, that it will make a difference in the long term even if the long term is well past my life's duration. Every rare plant I document, every weed I pull counts toward the legacy I am leaving as my contribution to the mission of the National Park Service. What's a few mosquito bites in the scheme of things when you are helping to protect one of the world's most priceless resources? Nevertheless, I still need a bath.