WatershedEvents

Calamity Creek

 

Calamity Creek - the streamlined leads off to the left, a less strenuous route lies to the right.

There are a half dozen major drainages along the northern perimeter of the Sutton Mountain Wilderness Area (WSA). They all cross a well-maintained gravel road that runs generally east-west between Twickenham and the Bridge Creek Road. This is one of the first you encounter after you enter the WSA from the east. I've passed it by a dozen times, but this trip I stopped and took little hike up its dried out stream bed.

 A quarter mile in. Note the heavily incised stream bank on the left and the path on the right.

Generally I try not to hike up the middle of any stream bed, wet or dry. Partly that's to protect the bed of the stream, particularly if it is still carrying any water; but I also like to avoid the treacherous footing typically encountered when navigating the torn up bottom of a stream. This stream bed came with a well-worn pathway that ran along one bank or the other all the way to my intended destination - a spring.

There are perhaps a dozen springs along the northern flanks of Sutton Mountain, most of them classified as "intermittent." The few perennial ones typically sit at an elevation of roughly 2150 feet. Thats just 200 feet higher up the mountain than the elevation of the trailhead. The one I was on my way to visit sits at an elevation of 2240. I was curious to see if it was truly perennial. 

Less than a half mile up the creek I encountered the first of four big surprises - a  relatively new stock tank.

Looking downhill toward the location of the trailhead; stream bed is on the left.

I hadn't seen any sign of cattle in the area, so I was a little surprised to see such a clearly valuable piece of equipment just sitting there. I was also puzzled to find a good third of it was filled with a very fine, sandy clay. The 3" diameter pipe led uphill, and I began to follow it. I didn't get far, however, before I had my second surprise.

The first of many trees purposely dropped into and/or across the wetland.

Just as the creek bed freshened, it's flourishing wetland had been covered by large trees, most probably junipers. These had been old trees, some of them 14 to 16 inches in diameter. Almost certainly they had been dropped there on purpose. But why?

Looking downstream from the heart of the drop zone, watering trough in the distance.

A short further distance up the creek I got my third surprise of the outing. Perched on the rim of the embankment was an entire stand of pampas grass.

Pampas grass (Cortaderia sellona) along the rim of the embankment.

I could not have been more puzzled - or more dismayed. This is a terribly invasive plant, particularly in semiarid climates. It is also prone to going up in flames whenever there's a good wind and a little fire around. Absolutely not a good plant for this part of the world. So, what's it doing here? It almost certainly had to have been introduced. Perhaps it was put there in an attempt to stabilize the very steep and heavily incised walls of the creek bed?

Thistle plants climb part of the 20 ft. high bank opposite the stand of Pampas grass.

A pathway of sorts led down to the stream bed. I slid-hopped down to the bottom and ran into my fourth and final surprise: The spring was gone - either dried up or buried under the dirt - apparently replaced by a metal post. 

More thistle and a post, but what happened to the spring?

My GPS and the contour lines on my map all told me I was standing on, or very near to the spring. Was it buried in the ground, and was the post an "X" marking the spot? I was tempted to start digging, but common sense overruled the impulse. Better to make inquiries of some folks familiar with the area, I decided. 

The skies were lowering fast and there were raindrops on the wind. More significantly, the seconds between flashes of lightning and the subsequent rumbling reports had dropped down to five seconds or less. Ever since I witnessed a cow get blown up by a bolt of lightning, I've been very leery of getting caught in the open during a serious lightning storm. I cut short my trek further up the creek and headed back to the truck. Along the way I reflected on all I'd seen in the last hour. Then a question struck me like a ton of bricks: how the heck do you get something like a spring to flow, in any sort of controlled way, into a 3" pipe? What does that technology look like? Maybe a little research will shed light on that topic and help me make a little more sense out of my trip up what I've decided to call "Calamity Creek." 

 

 

Sutton Mountain Surprises

I was able to get away to the John Day River Basin last week - five days/four nights. I pitched camp at Mule Shoe, my usual preference. Much of my hiking was in that immediate area (more on those hikes in a later post). But I drove over to the Sutton Mountain WSA twice and crawled up a couple creek beds that meander out of the north slopes of the site. Cougar Creek was first on my list. I almost never go over to the Basin without stopping by that creek. This trip in the weather wasn't all that pretty, but I managed to get a shot or two I'm happy with. 

Along toward the end of the hike I came across a strange material occurring in considerable quantity all along the face of one of the lighter colored ash deposits. I'll keep working on the details associated with this post so that someday I may provide more specific information regarding which John Day ash group this particular formation is most closely related to. But, for the time being I'd like some help on figuring out just what the heck this blue stuff is. at 1:1 the diameter of the assemblage on the left is about 20mm. Note the tiny specks of blue all over the surface of the ash.

My best guess is the blue material is a type of lichen that is very common in this area. The white material that appears to be embedded in the surface is most likely specs of the silicates that are so prevalent in the ash itself. But I am not sure of any of that, so input would be deeply appreciated.

SAFE SOLITUDE

Condon Canyon, Oregon. 

Occasionally I battle with a strong urge to wander. When this urge hits I suddenly feel compelled to strike off across a landscape that is full of sharp corners, generally devoid of significant vegetation, and visited regularly by bad weather. A few places come to mind: Owyhee Country; Steens Mountain; the John Day Basin.

Oddly enough the timing of these urges seems to coincide closely with what are otherwise periods of unadulterated bliss. Such was the case coming into the end of September, when the urge suddenly wrapped its tentacles around my brain and began to squeeze the comfort out of my days. I fought back for a time, but one day my wife looked at me and asked, in effect, what was eating me. I’ve always worn my emotions on my sleeve. We talked for a while and then she said, “All I worry about is that you insist on doing this kind of thing alone. Isn’t there someone you could go with?”

The short answer is “Probably not.” Truth is, the only people I’ve ever truly enjoyed hiking with are family members. But too often their schedules don’t mesh well with mine. And as much as I love hiking with them, sometimes even they drive me crazy. “What’s the hurry?” I want to ask. I might go no more than three strides before I see something that brings me to a dead stop and rivets my attention. They, meanwhile, are striding along like one of Patton’s soldiers and before you know it they’ve disappeared around a bend. Left to myself, I average about a mile an hour over reasonably smooth ground; they clock in at 3.0 or better.

On October 7th I headed off for Mule Shoe, a small BLM campground located on the John Day River a few miles west of Spray, Oregon. (Solo, I didn’t even bring the dog.) I like to stay at this campground for three simple reasons: first, it’s almost always possible to park the pop-up in my favorite site; second, it is centrally located between Sutton Mountain and Sheep Rock, areas where I generally prefer to hike; and third, the toilet is invariably well-maintained. (Whatever else the BLM may do, it manages to maintain toilets better than any other governmental agency I’ve ever encountered.)

This reach of the river is a few hundred yards downstream from the camp. It isn’t particularly scenic by John Day standards, but I love it. I’ve caught quite a few small mouth bass here over the years, but never a rainbow or steelhead.

The river was down far enough to expose a fault in the bedrock I had never noticed before. I thought for a moment I had stumbled upon the fossilized backbone of a large critter. But it's simply an artifact of multiple geologic forces meeting in a common area.

That first night a full moon came up just as the last rays of the sun were vanishing.

Finding a safe place to hike turned out to be a bit of a challenge. I had overlooked the fact that it was deer hunting season. Most of the gullies and pull offs along the river had one or more pickup trucks parked in them, indicating that further up the slope a deer hunter was itching to bag a buck. I finally settled on an area that is adjacent to the Sheep Rock Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds. The first mile of the trail follows an old dirt road running south-southeast from where Highway 19 crosses the river.  At one point it splits into two routes. The south fork leads towards Sheep Rock and the Cant Ranch. I took the east fork and headed deeper into the hills just below Windy Point, a 4500 foot peak that along with Middle Mountain, dominates the area. The road faded into the open countryside about a quarter mile further on.

I tend to tread heavy when I’m in the bush, a habit I picked up early in life. Walking hard cuts down on the number of close-up animal sightings, but it also cuts down significantly on the number of rattle snakes encountered. Even so, I was able to jump a herd of elk. I had no time to change lenses but still managed to get a long range shot of some of them once they got far enough away to feel safe.

My route took me past quite a few stand-out, solitary junipers like this berry covered beauty.

It’s funny how perspective changes everything. I’ve visited the Cant ranch and the nearby Paleo Center a dozen times. Sheep Rock rises over both like a monument; but this shot, taken looking south from the bench below Windy Point, makes its sharp point seem like a relatively insignificant bump.

I continued east through the area until I ran into a fence line, then headed north until I ran into another one. These mark the boundary between public land and the Long View Ranch. I’m not big into trespassing, especially when I know the owner is serious about prosecuting interlopers. Accordingly, I headed west along the bottom of what I think is called Deer Gulch. The way in was steep and deep and after a few hundred yards I decided to get out while I still had a chance. Scrambling solo over broken boulders is very risky business. (Scale note: The juniper bush standing at the bottom of the gap is about 8 feet tall.)

I’ll be going back to this gulch at my very first opportunity. And if I can round up someone to go with me, I'll try my luck at going up along the creek bed and back along the rim.

I spent the morning of the next (and last) day of my short outing by exploring Holmes Creek Road, a well maintained gravel road that runs east off of Highway 19. The junction is about 15 miles north of the Cant Ranch. There are numerous sections of public land along both sides of the road, some of them several square miles in overall area. The road rises from the river (1920 ft) and tops out on a broad mesa almost exactly a mile high. By noon I was tired of driving, so I parked near a pair of dried up stock ponds and set off in a southwesterly direction toward the rim of the mesa. Less than a quarter mile into my hike I chanced upon a wild horse. The moment I made a move to my get a longer lens out of my pack, he was off like a shot. Still, this was pretty close quarters where wild horses are concerned and I felt pretty privileged to be able to study him for a few minutes, even at this distance.

I reached my intended destination about three hours out – a small jumble of broken basalt at the tip of a long,narrow ridge that afforded a decent view and little solitude. I hunkered down for a half hour or so, drinking the last of my tepid coffee and crunching away on a pack of Keebler’s peanut butter filled cheese crackers while I studied my surroundings.

Before I left I practiced a little of what I am now calling “Safe Solitude.” My kids gave me a wonderful little device awhile back. “Spot” it’s called and it can send out a variety of information to preselected phone numbers and emails. Including 911, if it ever came to that. I turned it on and a minute or two later it sent off my coordinates and a preset text to let my wife and kids know that all was well and that I was having a great time.

The next day I headed north along the John Day Highway, making my way home using a route I first traveled more than 20 years ago. Just after the highway crosses Thirty Mile Creek it passes through a canyon (Condon Canyon) that has long held my interest.  This trip I finally stopped long enough to grab a shot of the area.

I think next trip out I will try to find out who owns the land along the highway and get permission to take a little walk.  along a nearby feature named The Devil’s Backbone.

My Summer Vacation (Good as it Gets Department)

Daughter Erica stalks a slow moving snag in the uplands near Cougar Creek on Sutton Mountain. Dig the colors.

Earlier this year I set out to spend some special time with as many members of my family as possible. My goal was to have at least four days of uninterrupted "We time" with them sometime between May and September. Given that I have three children and four grandchildren, scheduling, organizing and conducting that many days of quality time turned out to be a major challenge. In the end I managed to get to all of them, except for Aaron, my son, and Jane - my youngest granddaughter. (We will make up for that next summer, date and locale to be determined.) In addition to spending time with the kids/grandkids, I also managed to get in some quality camping time with my wife, Kitty. Here are some photos and captions that will give you a sense of how wonderful it all turned out to be. 

MAY - Erica (my oldest) and I spent a few glorious days at Muleshoe on the John Day River. Maybe the highlight of the trip was our hike up Cougar Creek - an intermittent stream that runs out of Sutton Mountain's northern foothill

The colors and textures in this area are wonderful. 

We also spent some time in the Umatilla National Forest where we encountered this little beauty. I think it might be a variety of penstemon, but I'm not sure. It wasn't 4" tall! If someone could help me with a positive ID it would be deeply appreciated.

JUNE (early) - Mule Shoe again, but this time with my wife, Kitty. We had planned to go to Nehalem, one of our favorite beaches; but the weather there was so poor we decided at the last minute to look in on the John Day Basin.

It was Kitty's first trip, and I wasn't sure how she'd find it. The good news is she loved it and I am sure she will be back. Part of the draw will be the wildflowers.

JUNE (late) - My youngest daughter, Ellen, and I haven't been camping together since she was six or so. Mule Shoe seemed like a good choice because we had only a four day window. It was on this trip that she let me know (officially) that she is pregnant and due in Februrary. This is the greatest news any granddad can hear, of course, and it made my summer even better than I would ever have imagined it could be. Mostly we fished because morning sickness made serious hiking and eating a non-starter. So long as she didn't have to bait a hook or gut a fish, she was OK.

JULY (early) - Quinn, my oldest grandson is 8 years old and already a John Day veteran. He can handle the terrain and heat as well as anyone. But this year we decided to beat that heat, at least a little, and went to Newberry National Monument. What a great decision! Below, a shot of Quinn on the east slope (7900 foot level) on Paulina Peak.

These days we travel in style. Here's Q in his "quarters."

One of the coolest things we encountered on our various hikes was this tree. Look carefully at the crown - that's ice up there in the very top, believe it or not.

 JULY (late) - For the last few years I've been able to have both Chloe and Jake (my son's kids) stay with me for a week during the summer. This year we hit a bad bubble in the weather - check out that hoody on Chloe...must have been in the mid 60s that day. Still, the flying was great!

When the weather improved we spent quality time looking for crawdads in Fanno Creek. They were so in-tune with this place that I wish we could have stayed all day.

AUGUST (early) - My sons-in-law (Craig and Matt) on their way back from a long hike up Little Indian Canyon on Steens Mountain. (For more photos of this trip GO HERE.)

I'm putting together a separate blog on that particular trip because it was such an amazing five days.

AUGUST (late) - Kitty and I finally made it to Nehalem. Just missed some good weather and ended up cutting it short for lack of sun and decent temps. Still, Nehalem on a bad day is generally better than most other places at their best.

 

Umatilla National Forest

Kitty at the Sheep Rock overlook. Weather wasn't great, but it was still grand to see.

Kitty (my lovely wife) and I camped out at Mule Shoe on the John Day River last week. Five wonderful days. One day was a little rainy so we drove to Prairie City so she could get a sense for the scale of the basin. Along the way we stopped at the Thomas Condon Paleontology Center. It's a world class science center and if you haven't journied out to see it, you are missing a great treat.

The fishing was lively, from an action standpoint, but we were only able to fill the frying pan once. Lots and lots of tiny bass. The real highlight of the visit turned out to be the two hikes we took while we were there. The best of those was a two mile jaunt we made along an unamed trail in the Umatilla National Forest. We found the trail head on Nf 24, just about three miles west of CR3. The "trail" is actually just a remnant fire trail. Judging by the number and size of young Pondersa pine growing in the middle of it, the trail last saw action twenty years or more ago. There are dozens of such trails in the forest, and Kitty and I plan to walk a bunch of them in the future! What a great time we had.

We stopped short of reaching the highest spot on the trial but here's a look from the 4200 foot level. 

We came across many small meadows that had been cleared by fire some time ago. The flowers were wonderful.

I'm still struggling with the identifiction of flowers. Any ideas, anyone?

Similar colors but an entirely different lovely. (Clarkia pullchella)

While I crouched or lay down to take photos, Kitty kept an eye out for cougars...

You could spend your life shooting close-ups on these mountain trails. Makes it hell for anyojne who hikes with you.

Always surprises, if you keep your eyes open.

This snow berry checker is pretty beat up. Hundreds of them fluttering around up there that day.

Finally, the best catch of thre trip - a Mariposa lily (found at a much lower elevation). 

As I said, it was a great trip. I'll be headed back there very soon. Can't wait!

 

 

Good As It Gets Department

Daughter Erica and I spent four quality days in the John Day Basin a few weeks ago. We set up camp at the Mule Shoe BLM campground, then over the next few days looked in at (1) Priest Rapids (she caught three bass, blam, and skunked me proper); Umatilla National Forest (went up a couple good trails); and Cougar Creek (one of my favorite short hikes into the skirts of Sutton Mountain). I haven't seen her pictures yet, but I suspect she got some good ones. I put together a small album of shots that you can look at here.