WatershedEvents

The Quarry

A front-loader scoops freshly crushed basalt, while a crewman (note orange safety helmet) attempts to clear a jam in the crusher (blue machine). 

Just a few miles from my home lies a quarry where basalt is mined and broken up for a variety of construction purposes. Shortly after I began studying J Harlen Bretz's work on the Puget Lobe Glaciation, I realized quarries must have been high on his list of places around the Sound to include in his field studies, especially in the earliest stages of his work. Given the lay of the land in 1907-1911, any place where the wilderness that still hung on in the area was pushed aside would have represented an informational gold mine for his studies.

It is possible Bretz visited this one, although I won't be able to know for sure until I can get to the University of Chicago and work my way through the Bretz archives stored there. But given its location in an area I know for a fact he studied, I decided to ask for permission to come on to the property and take some photographs.The owner sized me up for a minute or two, listened to my pitch, and then smiled.

"Two questions I need to ask," he said. "One, do you have a safety vest; two, do you have a hard hat?"

"Yes to both," I said, and the deal was set, just like that. Since then I've been back a couple of times, including just last week. Its geological structure and geographical location make it highly relevant to my study of Bretz's work in this area. More than that, 'tho, it is fun to shoot here. 

My earliest interest in photography was driven by a love for the editorial photography that was the hallmark of mid-century communications in the 1900s. I cut my baby teeth in the medium trying to master the B&W techniques of the Life/Look shooters. For a time I aspired to be a shooter for National Geographic. While my career never flowed down that particular channel, I still managed to shoot in that vein from time to time. Corporate/Industrial photography, it was called while I was in school. It differed from the reportage approach only in that the "editorial element" was up-front propaganda aimed at enhancing the corporate image. It was possible to shoot using lens work and other photo-techniques resembling any of the "documentary" styles, but great care had to avoid the accompanying attitudes/editorial slants. 

  Heavy equipment takes a lunch break from clearing the overburden from a hilltop above the quarry floor (lower left) - this in preparation for blowing out another section of basalt. 

The shot above is a good example of what I mean. It is hard to take interesting and illustrative shots in a place like a quarry without running the risk of orchestrating a shot that leads the viewer to focus on something negative. My goal with this shot was to show where the equipment is working, not so much what is doing. The caption helps; but even more important than the caption is the full color rendition. For example, compare the shot above with the one below. Images in B&W tend to look more nitty-gritty than those in full color. And even when it's been over half a century since the B&W photo-editorials established much of the photo idiom, at least where reportage is concerned, B&W shots still look somehow "more serious" than those in color.

 

The Chehalis River Basin and The Gate Pathway

In April I began to think seriously about starting work on a new book. The idea had come to me a month earlier as I was nearing the end of my first read of a 1913 scientific paper written by J Harlen Bretz (Glaciation of the Puget Sound, Bulletin #8, Washington Geological Society). I stumbled across this paper when I was looking for information about Dry Falls. I've known of Bretz and his Scablands work for many years and even wrote a segment about Glacial Lake Missoula for my book on Fanno Creek. However, until I read that article and began digging a little deeper into Bretz's earliest years as a geologist, I had no idea he had begun his field work as a glaciologist.

It is now closing in on the end of June, and I am close to going all in on the project. I've been testing the waters by sharing an outline of my ideas with folks whose opinions I deeply respect. One of these people is a writer and publisher who is also married to an engineering geologist. Their immediate responses were particularly encouraging, because I am sure either of them would have told me not to waste my time if they had seen little promise in the venture. I've also shared the outline with a handful of well-placed and Bretz-savvy geologists, who have shown considerable interest in the project.

All in all, the uniformly positive and enthusiastic responses I've received are very encouraging. It looks as if I have a good story in hand, one that could be marketed to a national audience. The only hang-ups now - besides the perennial practical ones - is the same ones I had a hard time getting past when I was just beginning to write Up Fanno Creek: will my writing skills live up to the subject matter, and do I have the strength of character it will take to see it through to the end? 

The differences between this book and the Fanno Creek effort are many; however, telling this story will demand (1) a greater commitment of time, money and spiritual capitol; (2) a significantly higher caliber of research; and (3) a far greater degree of artistry. Quite frankly, I'm not sure I pack enough gear for the long haul I am certain it will be. 

To help me get in closer touch to some of the material, I've begun visiting a few of the areas Bretz wrote about in his paper. The Chehalis River Basin is one of those places and figures large in the story of the Puget Lobe glaciation. Roughly 12,000 years ago, as the glacier was retreating out of the upper reaches of the Puget Sound, the Chehalis river became an absolute monster. I'm not ready to tell that story in detail right now, but it will certainly be included in the book.  

Over the next few weeks I hope to make several trips through the middle part of the basin - the reaches between Grand Mound and Elma. It was roughly along this line where the snout of the Puget Lobe reached its most southerly advance. I'm not sure where Bretz worked when he visited this area, but I'm sure I'll cross his track from time to time. For example, I am pretty sure he once tramped along this section of railroad track. There was a small community near this sign in Bretz's day, but it was well on its way to dying, thanks to a devastating fire in 1900, followed by the failure of the area's timber industry in the years that followed.

My next post will be about the Black River, a tributary of the Chehalis, and one time a bit of a monster in its own right.  

 

The Chum Cycle

A view of Beatty Creek in early fall of 2015. This bent tree caught my attention when I first visited Beatty Creek in the spring of 2014. The creek was full at the time, and  I was blissfully unaware of how intermittent the flow in this reach could be. I've visited this spot a dozen times since. The embankment from where I took this shot was flat and relatively free from salmon berries. I would sometimes sit or squat there for a half hour or more - just listening to the water and admiring the epiphytes and other vegetation. 

Taken a few days later, after a particularly heavy rain. The water was running strong, but not yet at full flood.

I returned once more,two weeks later. The rains had increased steadily from a few hundredths at a time to inches. The stream was running a a nearly full boil and was fully engaged in restructuring its bed. In just a few days the creek had carried my favorite perching place away. But I found a new one just to the left of where the old bench had been, a place where I could once again sit and marvel at the miracle of water. I'm weeks overdue for another visit. 

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POSTSCRIPT: I went back yesterday morning and was a little surprised how close to drying up the stream has become in just a few short days. This is late April, which seems very early in the year. However, the soils around here drain very quickly, and rainfall here in the Olympia/Tumwater area is more than an inch less than "normal" for the month. 

I checked a couple of pools and they both contained small fish, probably similar to the one's Jake and I discovered last summer (see previous post). I never got a positive ID on them, but the best guess is they were coho that made a wrong turn when they came to the Beatty - Mclane Creek confluence. The spot shown here is at roughly 40 feet higher in elevation than that confluence. The reaches upstream from here are are probably close to bone dry already. There's still a great deal of moisture in the stream bed, so fresh water will be entering the pools through seepage for at least a few more days. But if the next round of rain isn't better heavier than its been in some time, the little fish in these isolated pools won't be flushed out and taken further down stream. I'll keep an eye out on the process, and maybe try later to set up a "taxi" service for a few of them.

Well Enough, Left Alone

Grandson Jake and I ventured down the block to Beatty Creek the other day. He had never seen the stream before, and I was curious to see how it might be holding up during this extended drought. What a shock! The creek was dry as a bone.

We decided to head down stream to see if could find a puddle or two. Sure enough, just a few dozen yards closer to where the stream makes its confluence with Mclane Creek, we found a couple small pools crowded with small fish. The idea that these little critters were likely going to end up dying of suffocation didn't set well with either of us, particularly after we discovered there was a much large pool just another fifty feet downstream. I promised Jake I would return the next day with a bucket and a net, and move them to the larger pool.

Next day, net and bucket in hand, I went down to the creek bed and began scooping out the juveniles in the first pool.

I stopped at one point and examined one to see if I could identify it. As near as I could tell they were chum salmon, which was consistent with the only sightings of mature salmon I've made in the last two years.

I was about half way through the process when I realized that the knee I had placed next to the pool was soaking wet. I started pulling back gravel in several places, each one further from the puddle. The sand below was filled with water, and wherever the hole I'd dug was deep enough, it began to fill with ice cold water. It then dawned on me that, although the puddles were quite small, the water was very cold and crystal clear. I let all that sink in for a few minutes. Then, as gently as I could, I put the little critters back in their puddle. Nature ALWAYS knows best, and almost always needs less help from us than we need from it...even today.

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." 

 

 

Buddy and the Beaver

Evenings at Mule Shoe, after dinner, Buddy and I meander down to the boat launch, his favorite drinking hole. I had a telephoto on this particular evening and hoped to get a shot of a beaver I'd seen working the opposite bank the night before. The shot of Buddy was basically an exposure test, so once I saw that I was on target, I redirected the lens up stream for a longer shot. Almost the instant I turned away, however, I heard a racket at water's edge. As I turned to look I caught a glimpse of buddy scrambling way up the bank; frightened half to death by a beaver that apparently swam up to him while he was drinking, and then slapped his tail on the water right next to his head.

The Beaver seemed oblivious to my presence and swam around for a minute or two, before finally coming to rest in the shallows.

After a few minutes of sitting and grooming, Mr. Beaver slid back into the water and headed off to attend to other business.

 

 

Quixote Complex

On my right....

I first made the run from The Dalles to Condon, Oregon, in 1992. I was on a motorcycle that first time and found the experience of riding through mile after mile of wheat fields both exhilarating and awe inspiring. Since then I've made well over a dozen trips down that highway, and every time it is a little less exhilarating, thanks mostly to the intrusion of the windmills.

...and to my left.

I forget what year it was when I saw the first of the wind farms being set up along the banks of the Gorge, but I distinctly remember feeling a little unnerved by their massive size and the sweep of their blades. At the time they seemed like a quaint idea, but I never gave them much of a chance at becoming a success. I didn't buy Starbucks when it came out in 1992, either, so I am accustomed to being on the wrong end of bonanzas.

Over the years I've watched them proliferate like bull thistle, first congregating mostly along the walls of the gorge and the uplands nearby, then spilling out onto the great, rolling bosom of the Columbia River Plateau. This last trip they dogged my heels until I dropped down into Cottonwood Canyon. God, I hate the sight of 'em.

When I've complained out loud about the relentless expansion of this technology, some of my critics have taken me to task for being so negative about "such a great renewable." "What," some have asked me, "are you saying you'd rather see us stay with fossil fuels?" They do not see the great irony of this latest corporate, federally subsidized, scourge upon the land, no matter how much I protest about it. But this technology is backfiring, to some extent, because it is not replacing our dependency upon fossil fuels so much as it is augmenting our seemingly insatiable thirst for power. We aren't conserving energy, we are wallowing in it. 

The laws that govern the conservation of energy - any kind of energy - are hard and fast. When you remove massive amounts of energy from a system - any system - there are consequences, usually nasty ones, so far as the system itself is concerned. Mark my words.

Meanwhile, Rocinante and I will continue to joust with the inevitable. Next up, the Nukes.

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.

Wasp Ways

For days now a procession of wasps have been landing on the top railing of our cedar deck and poking around for three or four minutes at time. Finally, this afternoon I figured out what they are up to.

If you look very carefully at the photo above you may be able to see that the area in front of the wasp is a lighter color. The wood is not painted. That grayish-white color is actually the color of fresh cedar that is just beginning to weather. What's happening is the wasps are chewing off this weathered, oxidized layer. In the process they leave behind areas of raw wood that shows up in this photo as a blond color.

They are doing this all over the surface of the railing, but they tend to focus most on the curved edge, probably because they can get their mandibles around that contour more easily. As they move along they roll up a little gray ball out of the stuff and then fly off. I'll keep trying to get a shot of that. Presumably they are using this material to manufacture nests. I've never seen this behavior before, so if someone has a different take on it, please post it here as a comment.

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The Good, The Bad, And the Land Between

A 3.3 acre wetland located in the South Cooper Mountain area of Beaverton, Oregon.

THE GOOD 

In April of 2014 the Beaverton City Council approved a planning document that describes the wetland shown above as having the "highest preservation priority." The document is titled "South Cooper Mountain Concept & Community Plan." It has this to say about the area in which the wetland lies:

• Tier 2 habitat conservation priority areas may have a greater level of human disturbance or play a less crucial role in wildlife movement than Tier 1 areas, but they include valuable upland habitats, riparian habitats, or both that provide important ecosystem services. Some limited degree of disturbance should be allowed, but the fundamental habitat value and ecosystem services should not be lost or excessively compromised. (Bolded Italics mine)

THE BAD

In March of 2015 The Beaverton School District applied to the Corps of Engineers for a permit to fill 2.5 acres of this wetland with 77,000 cubic yards of rock, sand and gravel. This is necessary, the District maintains, in order to "construct mixed use athletic fields" for a new high school. These fields are in addition to a football/track/lacrosse stadium complex and a baseball field also designed to support soccer that will be constructed in other portions of the site.

How much will 77,000 cubic yards of rock, gravel and sand "disturb" 2.5 acres of wetlands? Here are a few mental images that might give you a sense for how utterly destroyed that wetland and every living thing in it would be:

• If the acreage were the base of a box, the sides of that box would have to be 20 feet tall to contain the material.
• Envision 2600 double trailer dump trucks lined up hood-ornament to tail-light on Scholls Ferry Road, all moving slowly towards that wetland.
• Imagine trying to get into the nearest Costco warehouse only to find it filled up to the five foot level with rocks, gravel and sand.

The public comment period for the District's application expired on April 8th. Now the Corps will review both the application and the comments received. Regardless the outcome of that process, the District and its architects must look forward to other permitting challenges. Significant wetlands are involved, so multiple agencies will have to be convinced that the District's desire for mixed-use athletic fields justifies the virtual destruction of significant wetlands. Included in that mix will be the Oregon Department of State Lands, the Environmental Protection Agency, Clean Water Services, and the City of Beaverton itself, just to name a few. 

THE LAND IN BETWEEN

What made this particular wetlands so clearly "significant" to planners working on the South Cooper Mountain land use plan in the first place? Several possible factors come to mind. 

The lay of the land looking north towards the summit of Cooper Mountain; SW 175th on the right.

The full extent of the largest of the two wetlands involved is visible in the upper third of the shot. While invasive species of vegetation are beginning to overtake parts of the surrounding area, the wetlands itself is remarkably free of blackberry, English ivy, reed canary grass and the other noxious weeds so prevalent in many other parts of the Tualatin Basin. Stormwater runoff enters this high-quality wetland from the north, east, and the south. To the west (photo left) stretches a series of wetlands that channels runoff from the southwest slopes of Cooper Mountain into the Tualatin river. 

Soluble salts collect on top of drying clods of soil pushed up by a mole.

The soils in this area are generally comprised of remnant materials from the Missoula Flood that inundated the Tualatin Basin 12,000 years ago. They are inherently unstable and highly prone to large scale erosion, which is one reason why the Tualatin River's lower reaches are so silt laden. Disturbing existing vegetation and drainage patterns, even a little, can lead to rapid and catastrophic soil loss. 

Part of the drainage system that sends runoff from SW 175th towards the wetland.

In an average year, between 150 and 200 million gallons of stormwater runoff begin their journey to the Tualatin River in this area. The vast majority of that runoff passes through this stretch of wetlands. Ecosystem services related to the treatment of runoff provided by the wetlands include bioiltration, phytoremediation, infiltration, and physical retention of sediments.

OPTIONS

Given the madness that sometimes takes hold of critical land use decisions, it's possible that the District will be able to secure all the permits and win the potential legal battles that may be encountered before a valuable wetland resource is forever lost. All that could take a very long time and cost a bundle of money. But I hope that long before that happens, the District itself will look for optional approaches to dealing with the wetlands and other natural resources on the property. There's a pedagogical gold mine lying at the north end of that property, if the administration and its planners can step away from their current plan long enough to recognize it.

Crimson clover, useful in organic farming and pollinator enhancement, is plentiful on the property.

There's not room in this post for even a short exposition on STEM, Place based Learning, Integrated Curriculum, and Service Learning. Suffice it to say, for now at least, any and all these important pedagogical approaches to the learning/teaching process could benefit tremendously from having a good sized, fully-functional, thriving wetland at its disposal. Several Portland Metropolitan area schools have been able to harness the resources that streams and wetlands can bring to a curriculum. But few enjoy the luxuries of size, potential, proximity and inherent quality that this one could provide for a future high school. 

The wetland is already a critical component of the South Cooper Mountain community's physical stormwater infrastructure. By using it for a living classroom and work-study area the school could help grow it into an enduring community hallmark. Multiple organizations - Tualatin Parks and Recreation Department, Clean Water Services and Tualatin Riverkeepers, just to name a few - are already working towards the goal of enhancing the county's inventory of natural resources, and almost certainly could be counted on to help support the process. Here's hoping the Beaverton School District will reach out to these resourceful organizations, as well as to the community, for help in finding an alternative to destroying a genuinely irreplaceable resource. Here's a link to the Beaverton School Board. I'm sure they would love to hear from folks interested in this matter.

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Food For Thought

Kitty and Buddy hard at work in our new garden area.

We've been waiting impatiently for a chance to begin working on a new garden along the southeast property line of our property. Since we don't use herbicides for such work, we have to separate the grass and soil mechanically. This can be a daunting, even impossible task if the ground is saturated, as it usually is this late in the winter. However, the dry and unseasonably warm weather we've experienced the last couple days has led to almost perfect conditions for the task.

You never know what to expect the first time you dig into a new yard, but so far we've been delighted by what we haven't found - namely old roots, huge rocks, metal or glass scraps, etc. We have, however, encountered a large number of these critters. 

I don't have a positive ID yet, but my best guess is they are the larval stage of crane flies. The infestation is pretty extensive, at least in the area where we've been digging. On average we've been running into one every 2 square feet. I doubt the distribution is uniform throughout the entirety of grassy areas in our yard, but just for the sake of discussion I'll assume it is. That would mean there are approximately 8,000 of these plump little bundles of protein nestled snuggly among the grass roots. What a feast for anything that might be able to eat them. 

I've never intentionally eaten an insect, although I once accidentally took a swig from a Coke can that was serving as a sugar pantry for a yellow jacket. However, for a couple minutes I seriously considered taking a bite out of this one, just to say I had. I asked my wife, Kitty, what she thought we should do with them. Her reply was almost immediate. "Put one in a pillory box," she said, "and put him out there on one of those dirt mounds, so's it can serve as an example for the rest of them.

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On a side note, while we were diggingI noticed this fungus growing on some old stumpage in my neighbor's yard. According to my favorite mycologist and chicken herder, this is Auricula mesentrica, AKA tripe fungus. Apparently, and much like the crane fly larvae, it is not poisonous; but it still isn't edible for a variety of other reasons. Guess I'll have to give up dreams of getting rich by farming insect larvae and weird fungi.

At actual size this would be about 4"x5".

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.

Good As It Gets Department - Camp Chaos

My oldest daughter and I spent a few days camping in southeastern Washington last week. We set up base at Lewis and Clark Trail State park, which is located on State Highway 12 roughly midway between Waltsburg and Dayton. It was a decent enough campground, road noise notwithstanding. However, the site is more heavily infested with invasive plant species than any other camping area I’ve ever visited. All the usual suspects were there, and in force: blackberry, English ivy, knotweed, clematis vitalba, hawthorn, reed canary grass, and so on. There were also a number of other obviously aggressive plants, but I haven’t finished identifying them. There are plenty of native plants in the park, including some good sized ponderosa pine and cottonwoods; but the main “attraction” is the number and variety of aggressive plants draped all over these stalwarts.

We are in the habit of naming our camping sites after key features – e.g. Camp Rabbit; Camp Magpie; Camp Scat. We named this one “Camp Chaos.”

“It isn’t an adventure until something goes wrong.” Yvon Chouinard

Our mission for this outing was pretty simple. First we were going to spend a day at Palouse Falls, about 45 miles by good road to the north of camp. Next we were going to spend a day poking around in the Umatilla National Forest, which lies just a few miles south of the campground. On our way up to the falls we ran into a fast moving brush fire and stopped to take a few photos. We arrived on the scene at the same time as the first responders. The blaze was moving through fields of wheat stubble, and large chunks of sooty debris kept flying over our heads. However, it soon became apparent that containment was going to be a relatively simple matter. We watched for awhile longer, until so many onlookers had gathered that we felt if was getting too congested.

It was mid-day before we arrived at the falls, but even in that kind of flat light the place is still wonderfully impressive.

After getting our fill of the standard views we decided to hike a trail that takes you to the top of the waterfall itself. It was a short and relatively easy hike (about 1.5 mile round trip), but the heat was something else.

As it turned out here was no safe vantage point from which to look directly onto the falls, so we settled for a few shots of the adjacent areas and then headed back towards the visitor center.

The next day we headed south out of Dayton towards a place called Oregon Butte, an active fire-spotting post in the northern section of the Umatilla National Forest. It’s been a hard fire year, but so far this part of Washington has been spared. However, along our route into the forest there were plenty of reminders of past disasters.

The Tee Pee trailhead is well marked and the trail itself is reasonably well maintained. Round trip is about 6 miles and it tops out at 6,387, putting the elevation gain at 987 feet. But it’s an up and down hike and my legs and my Garmin both tell me total elevation changes coming and going added up to nearly twice that much. Even so I’d label it low to moderate in degree of difficulty, even on a hot day. 

When we topped out we were on a very narrow ridge. And perched out on the edge of that ridge sits the Oregon Butte Lookout. 

Built in 1931, this post is manned (more accurately “womaned”) for three months out of the year. “Julie” is the spotter’s name and I wish we had been able to spend more than a few minutes with her. What an interesting persona and what a fascinating life-style. 

Before we left Julie graciously offered to take a picture of me and Erica. Another great summer moment from a year that keeps on giving one wonderful family experience after another.

Related articles

Umatilla National Forest

Good As It Gets Department

WASP/BEE-HAVIOR

A honey bee, KIA. Moments earlier she was sipping nectar from the flowering oregano in the boxes on our deck. Then, out of nowhere, a bolt of yellow-and-black lightning caught her broadside and sent her tumbling to the boards below. She gyrated across the wooden surface for a few minutes, trying desperately to right herself and become airborne. But the force of the blow not only dislocated her right wing, it must also have broken her back. She died within two minutes.

I turned my attention to the assailant, a stocky brute of a thing that was patrolling the flower boxes. A yellow-jacket, I decided, but not one of your garden-variety, western specimens – much more compact and heavier of build. Perhaps one of the European varieties that are relatively new to north America, but are becoming widespread in the Pacific Northwest – Paravespula germanica?

I watched this character at work for several days and was tremendously impressed by how relentless and aggressive it turned out to be. It is easy to spot because, unlike its more common North American cousins, it tucks its legs while flying. This habit, along with its stocky build, makes it look a lot like a bumble bee in flight. It is, however, much faster and much more maneuverable than most of the other flying insects that visit the boxes from time to time.

Its entire raison d’etre appeared to be (1) drive off any flying insect that was not of its own species, and (2) mate with any wasp of its own species that stopped off in the flower boxes for a sip of nectar. I am not sure what species-recognition methods it employed to determine foe from femme – probably auditor in most cases, but perhaps the females were sending out pheromone signals as well. At any rate, whenever an interloper appeared, the wasp would instantly attack, flinging itself full force against its foe. (It was just such a maneuver that downed the honey bee.) If the attack was unsuccessful the first time, the wasp would instantly attack again – and again and again, if necessary. Inevitably it proved victorious, regardless of the relative size of the foe.

The mating behavior was only slightly less brutal and every bit as relentless. When a female stopped by to sip nectar the wasp would immediately begin to stalk her. When a positive ID had been made, and when a clear lane between the two would open up, the wasp would pounce on the female and pin her in place on the flowers. Mating took anywhere from 5 to 15 seconds. When the business was finished, the wasp would take off on patrol again, and the female would go back to sipping nectar pretty much as if nothing had happened. If the wasp encountered the same female again during his patrol, he would simply pass her by, showing little or no interest.

After the attacks/matings, or after long periods of patrolling, the wasp would quickly take on nectar from several flowers and then settle down on a leaf to rest and groom.

At one point I could not resist the temptation to capture a couple of these creatures for closer examination. Accordingly, I loaded a spray bottle with water and a little dish-washing detergent and shot down a mating couple. Once I had them in a container I put them in the refrigerator for awhile (about 30 minutes) until they were essentially comatose. Then I shot this picture:

My original intention was to turn the pair loose once I was finished with the photos. But something in my technique was flawed – fatally so for the wasps. I’m sorry to say, while both were alive when I put them into the refrigerator (about half an hour), neither survived for more than a couple more minutes after I took them out. If someone knows a better non-lethal capture method, please drop me a note.

Golden Spiders of the Sun

These little guys were all balled up in a labyrinth of silk runners stretched between two stems of a young elephant garlic we keep in a pot on the deck. That was this morning. I just checked on them tonight (about 10 PM) and they were making a break for it. I suspect many of them will have vanished come daylight, and the rest will follow sometime during the day. If I have my facts straight, they climb to a high spot, one by one, turn their little rears towards the sky, and shoot out a long filament of silk. When the wind catches it, they let go of whatever they are perched upon and set sail for their permanent home.

If you disturb them while they are still balled up and waiting for the right moment to make their break, they’ll spread out from the center until they are more or less uniformly distributed within the maze of webbing they create as part of their day-to-day work. But within a few minutes they’ll be huddled back into a tight, spherical huddle.

I think they are crab spiders, but am still working on an absolute ID. When I contemplate their method of moving from place to place I am invariably reminded of a Zen parable about a man who falls into a fast running river and can't swim. He grabs hold of a rock, but the current is so strong the water keeps pushing him under the surface. He will drown for sure if he holds on to the rock, but he is too afraid of the river to let go. The spiders appear to have no such dilemma; but who can say for sure?

Kayaks on the Potomac River

An intrepid kayaker (Jared Petersen) works the wash below some of the larger rapids in Great Falls National Park.

I've spent most of my adult life in areas west of the Rockies. As a result I'm a little bit of a snob when it comes to appreciating rugged scenic vistas. I got my comeupance last month, however, when Kitty and I visited her sister in McClean, Virginia. A very short drive from her home in suburban McClean lies the Great Falls of the Potomac. What a beautifully rugged place! It must have been absolutely breathtaking when George Washington strode its banks over 250 years ago. It is also a very dangerous place - an average of 7 souls lose their lives along this stretch of the river. Not a few of them are outdoor folk such as the kayakers shown in this small collection of photos. 

A pair of kayakers work their way through a maze of rapids as they head for the largest drops in the run.

Can you spot the second kayaker in this shot?

There he is!

The last of the big drops

Postscript - Just a few days after I took these photos a highly skilled kayaker lost her life in one of the drops along this treacherous reach. Details.

Related articles

My Summer Vacation (Good as it Gets Department)

Kayaking on the Potomac

Whitewater kayaker's death illustrates the danger of her sport

DC Visit

From Peter Coffin's exhibition at the Hershhorn Museum in Washington, DC. What a wonderfully eclectic place!

As I mentioned in the previous post, in September Kitty and I visited her sister in McClean, Virginia. Ann and her husband Steve were wonderful hosts. Among the highlights of our visit were (1) a hockey game between the Chicago Blackhawks and the Washington Capitals; (2) a hike along the banks of the O&C Canal; (3) a visit to the National Mall and (4) a hike along the Virginia side of the Great Falls National Park. Here are some snaps from the visit:

Ann and Steve in front of one of the panels in an exhibition by Barbara Kreuger / Hershhorn Museum.

Kitty and me in front of another panel from Kruger's exhibit.

Juan Munoz's "Last Convdersation" in the sculpture garden at the Hershhorn. 

One of the exhibits outside the Smithsonian Castle.

I visited this powerful memorial in 1997. It reduced me to tears in less than five minutes. Made it to ten this time 'round.

This memorial has a far greater effect on me than the one across the mall that commemorates the war I actually fought in.

Remnants of the O&C Canal, a grand old artifact that testifies to the audacity of post colonial Americans.

Ann and Kitty stand atop the buttress that supports a large portion of the canal - 70 feet above the actual river bed.

A paddler on one of the Potomac RIver's quieter side channels, 70 feet below the O&C Canal pathway.

 

Related articles

My Summer Vacation (Good as it Gets Department)

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.

 

Beaverton Creek Trail Proposal

Looking west down Beaverton Creek from the Bridge on Hocken Avenue.

The view above was taken at the approximate starting point for a new trail proposed by Tualatin Hills Parks and Recreation District. If I have my facts straight the pathway will run down the right bank (viewer's right). Washington County is hosting an open house at the Beaverton Public Library on August 13th, 2013, and encourages the public to review and comment on this proposal, as well as others that are being recommended for funding through Metros Regional Flexible Funds program. The open house will take place between 5 and 7 PM. Additional details may be found using the following links:

Washington County - Information on the open house and the Regional Flexible Funds Program (RFFP)

Metro - Additional information on the event, the proposal, and others like it.

I'm currently reviewing documents related to the proposal and will attend the meeting. However, I feel obliged to note I'm generally not in favor of developing such narrow and degraded urban stream corridors for any reason, baring a direct threat to human safety. But I'll wait until I have a more complete grasp of the facts and figures associated with the plan before I form my final opinion. I strongly urge any other interested individuals to do likewise and hope to see them (you?) there.

Crazy Busy

So far this has been a very magical summer, full of family, wonderful countryside, and no end of interesting surprises. As a result I've been running around at approximaely the same speed as this wonderous creature. There's simply not time to sit down and address the many issues I wish to, nor is there time right now to process and post the many interesting photos I've been able to take in the last few months. But getting this one up on the net seemed important to me, for some reason or other. All you birders and hummingbird freaks, this one's for you!

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.

Resource: USGS / Impacts of Urbanization on Stream Ecosystems

Al Smith and Warren Aney looking for mussels in Fanno Creek.

USGS Study Looks At Impacts Of
Urbanization On Stream Ecosystems, Includes Portland
(Forwarded by Al Smith)

The loss of sensitive species in streams begins to occur at the initial stages of urban development, according to a new study by the USGS. The study found that streams are more sensitive to development than previously understood.

"We tend not to think of waterways as fragile organisms, and yet that is exactly what the results of this scientific investigation appear to be telling us," said USGS Director Marcia McNutt. "Streams are more than water, but rather communities of interdependent aquatic life...."

Read the entire article at www.cbbulletin.com.

The study may be retrieved at http://pubs.usgs.gov/circ/1373/

 

Sylvan Creek Cateract

This photo was taken Monday, the 19th of November, sometime near the peak of the rainfall that hit Sylvan Hill that day. The 24 hour total for the area was well over two inches - not the heaviest storm to hit the Sylvan Hill complex in the last few years, but heavy enough to put the creek over its banks for a while. 

This particular reach of the creek lies just below one of the the huge retaining walls that were built during the expansion of Sunset Highway and the re-working of the Sylvan Overpass between 1998 and 2002. The creek flows off of TV Hill (highest peak in the Sylvan Hill complex and also the highest point in the Fanno Creek watershed) and passes to the south under the highway through a 4' pipe. The mouth o fthat pipes is obscured by the surge of water shown at the top of the photo. 

The silt clearly evident in the photo comes from the heavy deposits of loess and clay that still cover the hillsides throughout the Tualatin Hills. Areas further upstream - north of Sunset Highway - are extremely unstable and slide-prone. With every heavy rain along the flanks of the Sylvan Hill complex, tons of this material are shorne off the surface of the ground and carried south towards the Tualatin River.

Visit DOGAMI (Department of Oregon Geology and Mineral Industries) for more information on the geology of these hills and a look at some crazy-wonderful LIDAR maps. 

Knapweed Sighting

Knapweed, a pinkish one trending towards purple.Beautiful but bad.

Found this little beauty in the small, vacant lot just across Raab Road from ODOTs facility near the Sylvan overpass. I sent in a report to the invasive species hotline and am interested to see how they respond. It's definitely a type of knapweed and I will post the picture to iNaturalist when I get a chance. I'm pretty sure someone who links to that site will be able to ID it for me.

The Bug Chicks

Have you stopped off at the Bug Chicks site? Make sure you do, you won't regret it. I was so inspired by my visit to their site that I decided to post a photo I took while waiting to photograph the controlled burn that took place in Cook Park a few years ago. This gal had a burrow in the loose material next to the railroad berm that separates Cook and Durham Parks. She was busy that day and made more than a dozen trips out and back in the short half-hour I spent lying on my belly outside her door.

THE EYE OF THE BEHOLDER

This photograph offers a view of the eastern portion of Cook Park, a place that is rapidly becoming one of the best wildlife viewing areas in the entire Fanno Creek sub-basin. It was taken from atop an eight-foot ladder placed on the concrete pathway that skirts the southern end of the park. The ladder was necessary because efforts to restore the native vegetation in this area have been so successful that from ground level you can no longer see into the emergent wetlands that lies at its heart. It being late August, all but a small  portion of the grassy vegetation in the area has succumbed to more than a month without measurable rain. But almost hidden in these sunburned grasses are hundreds of herbaceous plants – Pacific willow, Oregon grape, red-osier dogwood - that were put into the ground by restoration crews in February of 2011.

They appear to be doing quite well, dry weather notwithstanding, and in a few years this area will be transformed into something very akin to a similar wetland just to the west of this one.

What people actually see in the landscapes shown in these photographs will vary considerably depending upon their familiarity and understanding of the area. Someone with agrarian roots might see some valuable farmland; a city-dweller might see a vacant lot; a biologist might see habitat; and a politician might see a highway. But what Watershed Folk generally see here are two incredibly complex and valuable water treatment facilities, installations that can play pivotal roles in the region’s future as Oregon's water crisis deepens. One of them is Clean Water Services’ Durham Sewage Treatment Plant. Don’t see the other one? Please keep looking, because without your attention and intervention, an irreplaceable clean water resource could easily become a paved highway. Here's why:

“The City of Tualatin is revising their Transportation system plan and they want to hear from you.
One of the proposals under discussion is a new bridge across the Tualatin River that would put a new road next to Tualatin Community Park and through the Cook Park Wetlands. Fifteen years ago Tualatin Riverkeepers were successful in lobbying the City of Tigard and other agencies to protect these wetlands from a plan to drain them for soccer fields. Since then, Clean Water Services has invested in a successful habitat restoration effort. A significant link in the Fanno Creek Trail was added along with the Ki-A-Kuts pedestrian/bike bridge over the river. A documentary film, Wetlands: Seasons of the Mind was made about these very wetlands by Carl Vandervoort and Deb Dewit. You can watch the trailer of the movie at http://vimeo.com/user2382339/wetlands.  To learn more about how you can participate in the Tualatin Transportations System Plan, go to http//www.tualatintsp.org/?p=tsp-ideas-map. You can also send an e-mail to the Tualatin City Council asking them to remove the bridge from the Transportation System Plan at [email protected].” (Reprinted courtesy of Brian Wegener, Tualatin River Keepers)

Quinn and Me at Mule Shoe (Good As It Gets Department)

 

Quinn and Buddy on the trial to the Mini Painted Hills

Last week I spent five wonderful days camping, fishing, and hiking with my 7 year old grandson, Quinn Baker. Here are some photos and a few quick notes from that outing.

We camped at Mule Shoe Campgrounds, a BLM site that sits on the banks of the North Fork of the John Day River. It’s a decent site – no water, but clean toilets and well tended camping areas. There are a handful of trailer sites and several more walk-ins. There’s a good boat launch/pickup area there as well.

Quinn is getting fairly adept at using a full-size spinning reel and rod. Given that we were constantly fishing in and around reeds and rocks, it’s surprising that we only lost a little tackle. The shot above shows Quinn at one of our two main fishing spots. This one is just below the campgrounds. If you look real close you can just see the top of our pop-up in the background.

Our second fishing spot (and in general, the best) was just downstream from the rapids at Priest Hole.

We caught around a dozen fish altogether, most of which were small-mouth bass like the one Quinn is holding here. We also caught four small steelhead of comparable size. I’d never caught a steelhead before, but now I know where the madness comes from that sometimes causes otherwise rational and well-educated people stand in ice cold water for hours on end fishing for the beasts. What power those fish possess!

The highlight of our trip turned out to be a hike we took up a ravine that I’ve come to call Cougar Creek. The creek is one of more than a dozen good-sized but highly ephemeral streams that flow off the northern flanks of Sutton Mountain. (I visited this area in April 2011 with my buddy Jim Carlson. We had the good luck to come across a cougar track – hence the name.) 

The creek leads out of an area Jim calls “The Mini Painted Hills.” The formations here are similar to those found in the Painted Hills Unit that is located just a few miles to the south of here. I’ve been into this area four times now and found boot tracks on the trail only once.

Most of the domes in the area are dominated by iron-bearing clays, but one large, white dome lies on the northeast side of the basin. I’m not sure what this material might be, but it doesn’t have a salty taste so maybe it is some kind of carbonate?

We spent a couple hours hiking and poking around in the basin and covered better than 2 miles overall. Quinn seemed totally oblivious of the heat and effort involved. He turned out to be a wonderful hiking companion – steady, durable, and reasonably cautious.

Quinn stands at the top of the highest dome in the area. We went to great efforts to stay on solid ground as we moved among the domes. When we had to cross one, we took care to tread only where deer or other animals had laid down trails before us.

On our way back down the creek we came across an area that appeared to have been recently disturbed – by what I couldn’t tell. If you click on this image and blow it up to max size you may be able to see the dozens of red flowers that are blooming there.

The plants turned out to be monkeyflowers. (I think it might be Memulous kellogii, but I’m not totally convinced). I ran across this flower when I visited the Painted Hills with Erica, Quinn’s mom, a year ago. It’s native to the Pacific Northwest.

We also came across stands of Mariposa lilies in a couple of the open areas on the slopes above the stream.

We saw a fair amount of game, including pronghorns and golden eagles. Quinn is a highly-organized kind of guy, so shortly after we arrived he began keeping track of the animals and plants we were encountering on a couple Post-It pads.

The fire-index was at “moderate” throughout our visit, but no one was taking any chances. Open fires and fire-pits have been banned since the 1st of June. But I managed to melt a giant marshmallow on our gas stove, and Quinn somehow managed to choke it down.

As I indicated at the outset, it was a great trip for both of us. Watching Quinn hike through that terrain was one of the most moving experiences of my life.That kid moved through the hot breeze and over the broken ground as if he had been doing it all his life. He also “got it” where the wonder of the geology is concerned, remarking to me several times how wonderful the place was.  I just hope he never loses track of that connection.

OWEB Listens

A few days ago I headed down to Salem to attend an OWEB “Listening Session.” These sessions are being held to pass-through information about “OWEB’s plans for developing a Long-Term Investment Strategy.” They will also be used to gather information from the agency’s “partners, grantees and the public about their priorities.” Timeline for the adoption of the strategy is June of 2013, and this first round of dialogues with stakeholders from different regions of the state should help the agency as it wrestles with how best to meet the mandate that came with the passage of Ballot Measure 76 in 2010.

The agenda for the meeting was pretty straightforward. Tom Byler, Executive Director, spelled out why the development of a long-term strategy has become a priority, then a “process facilitator” laid out a kind of roadmap of the process for the participants to follow during the listening session. Lauri Ananon, manager of the grant program wrapped up the preliminaries with a brief historical overview of OWEBs various programs.

After the pass-through portion of the meeting the Session Facilitator got us started on an interactive session that was designed to collect information and concepts from the participants. First the participants (there were around 50 of us) were asked to take ten minutes and write down some brief answers to four discussion points*:

The first of these focused on goals and visions by asking participants to identify outcomes OWEB should achieve with its investment strategy over the next ten years. As part of the response the participant was also asked to identify how achievement of those outcomes might best be measured.

Discussion point-2 asked the participant to “Picture your watershed. What tools and programs can OWEB provide…to help you achieve your goals…?”

Point-3 required that the participant take a critical look at OWEBs historical performance and identify areas for improvement in the agency’s efforts to provide ecological, social/community, and/or economic benefits “that are important to you.”

Finally, a process question: if I were in charge of designing the investment strategy, how would I focus on my own strategic priorities without excluding support for “opportunities for new and creative ideas to achieve restoration outcomes?”

Once we had more-or-less framed our thoughts the facilitator broke us into four groups and the “interactive” part of the process began. Each group went off to an area where one of the four questions was posted on the wall. As folks articulated their various responses to the question one of the facilitation team members wrote the responses down on a large sheet of paper posted on the wall. The group I ended up in was a pretty diverse bunch, but most were with organizations that have received funding from OWEB in the past. I think I may have been the only one in the group who wasn’t actually representing a specific group.

When all four groups had rotated through the stations we reassembled and the OWEB team gave a quick wrap-up of some of their takeaways. All in all it was a pleasurable experience and left me feeling pretty good about the process OWEB is using to put together their long range investment strategy. There will be ongoing opportunities for providing input to the process. If you are at all interested you can visit their website or their Facebook page. And if you want to stay current with the process just subscribe to their listserv.

*OWEB made these questions available to participants prior to the meeting. I spent several hours reflecting on them and in the end decided to use that reflection for the epilogue of my book. Speaking of which, UP FANNO CREEK – AKA The Book That Wouldn’t Die – will be heading to the designer in a few more weeks. Copies should be available no later than mid-September.

TRK GALA

 

 

This is a 2x2 detail from a print I'm donating to the Tualatin River Keepers for the auction at their annual Green Heron Gala, April 14th. All framed out the print is 11x11 (image area 6x6). Hope to see you there! Bring $$$!

OSB 1582 - 30 Yes / 0 No

Waters of the State of Oregon

This is a better written bill than it was when it went into the Natural Resources Committee February 14th. Maybe that's one reason why it won such overwhelming approval on its final round. The fact that 16 Democrats and 14 Republicans could all agree about any piece of legislation, much less one with potential environmental/economic overtones might leave you thinking that anyone who might wish to continue fretting about this law is either crazy or an idiot – or possibly even both.

OK, call me crazy. Based upon my current understanding of the cut/fill process where “waters of the state” are concerned, this bill as enacted further tips the table towards the pockets of private enterprise at the expense of the Public Trust. It does this by giving permit applicants access to an additional and relatively low-cost appeal process when the DSL rules against their permits. I think this part of the bill, in and of itself, is strong. But what seems to smack of inequity here is the fact that access to this remedy is unavailable to individuals and/or organizations who may wish to contend against issuance of any of those permits.

Given my current understanding of the intricacies of the permitting process at every level of government it is quite possible that I simply haven’t fully grasped how these may bear on the Public Trust/Private Interest equity issue I see lurking in OSB1582. Certainly any sane person would look at the complete unanimity of the vote and quit the field. How could 30 Senators all be wrong, and at exactly the same time?

As I said, just call me crazy. As a survivor of the debacle that ensued from the Golf of Tonkin Resolution, I’m never surprised (and never comfortable) when an overwhelming majority of politicians from either side of the aisle suddenly meet in the middle and agree in principle on something that later on turns out to have been an obviously bad idea. I don’t mean to implying that these 30 senators are ALL clueless or that they’ve sold out the wetlands or were just too pressed for time to read the bill or anything like that. I’m just saying that I’m (1) inherently suspicious, (2) admittedly ignorant, and (3) therefore still very uncomfortable with what is, for all intents and purposes a done deal.

As soon as time permits I am going to get my head more completely around the permitting process. I believe I have an excellent grasp of the non-political issues, and a fair comprehension of the basic regulatory processes; but I am still a novice where the intricacies of watershed governance and related processes are concerned. Maybe when I’ve become more well-informed I will be able to make that vote 31/0.

Pine Ladybird Beetle (Mulsantina Picta)

I took a break from editing the book on Sunday. It was far too glorious a day to grind away in the downstairs office. In order to keep from feeling too guilty I spent a few hours beating back the holly that has taken over the back bank of the Koi Pond. At one point I sat down for a snack and this little darling flew by. It was slightly smaller than a grain of barley and while my macro is very, very nice, it is a monster to focus with, at least on my D3100. Someday maybe I will be able to afford a better camera. At any rate, I'd never seen one of these before, but they are supposed to be common throughout the United States. Hope you run into one yourself, but make sure you have a magnifier handy or you might miss some of the more subtle details.

 

OSB 1582 - I Still Have Questions

How much of this was delineated as a wetlands? Apparently not enough to keep it from becoming the future site of a 400' bridge.

This last Tuesday (2/14/2012) I gave testimony before the Senate Committee on Environment and Natural Resources. I spoke against the passage of OSB 1582. The bill had been re-amended in a manner that eliminated many of the main points I addressed in my rant of a couple days ago. It still represents a threat to wetlands and waterways but now it is just a less direct. 

MEMORANDUM

To: Chair/Senate Environment and Natural Resources Committee and members of the committee

From: Eric L. Lindstrom, EdD

Date: 2/14/2012

Re: OSB 1582 / Arguments Against

OSB 1582 will lead to further degradation of the waters of the state by reducing the scope, authority and resources (both human and fiscal) of The Department of State Lands (DSL).

OSB 1582 requires the DSL to enter into arbitration without option if and whenever a person so requests. In this manner any “final” decision by the director is inherently anything but final.

By specifying that the Corps of Engineers 1987 manual (etc.) will be the maximum standard for Oregon’s approach to watershed delineation procedures, OSB 1582 binds the state to a minimum standard for the rest of the country.

Given the ever­-changing nature and inherent volatility of contemporary wetlands, particularly those in urban areas, any wetland delineation, no matter how expertly accomplished, should automatically expire in three years, not ten.

The fiscal and administrative burden that passage of this bill could place upon an already heavily obligated agency could be ruinous, particularly since (1) the DSL is required to participate and (2) the mediators themselves will be allowed to determine the cost of mediation. All this is to say nothing of the foreseeable negative impact on morale.

Finally, OSB 1582 specifically and exclusively favors only the applicant. Neither the DSL (the State) nor the citizens of the state can possibly benefit from this process. Indeed, the citizenry is inherently excluded from it.

The EPA calculates[1] that there are 114,823 miles of rivers and streams in Oregon. To date only 46,035 of those river and stream miles have been assessed. Of the assessed miles, 31,060 are either environmentally threatened and/or impaired. Closely associated with those impaired river and stream miles, and generally impaired themselves, are thousands of acres of wetlands too small to attract surveys but too large not to have significant impact upon the waters to which they ultimately commute. The negative impact of OSB 1582 on these already at-risk waters is potentially staggering.

Fanno Creek, the urban stream that I have studied for the last five years could be the poster-child for all the other streams and rivers in the EPA’s list of impaired miles of waterways in the state. In the late 1960s the stream was so badly polluted that locals called it Drano Creek. If the wind was right you could smell it before you could see it. One of the major factors contributing to its near demise was the unbridled cut and/or fill practices of the pre-Environmental Enlightenment era. Even with today’s regulatory practices significant chunks of the Fanno Creek watershed continue to be harmed or vanish completely on a far too regular basis. SBO 1582 will only serve to insure that Fanno Creek and the other 31,045 miles of Oregon streams in similar trouble will be less protected tomorrow than they are today.

---

[1] http://iaspub.epa.gov/waters10/attains_state.control?p_state=OR#STREAM/CREEK/RIVER

___________

After I delivered my remarks Senator Hass asked me why I was studying Fanno Creek. Hadn’t its condition improved considerably? The creek is in his district so the the question was obvious and natural and I should have been prepared for it. I wasn’t, however and as a result I fumbled with my response. Too bad, because it was a perfect chance to get right down to the heart of the creek’s issues and I’m afraid I didn’t, at least not as clearly and effectively as I might have.

Several other people testified against the bill including Sue Marshall. She delivered her remarks in a clear and seemingly effortless manner, I was envious and am sure her testimony was the most well crafted, reasoned and potentially effective of the lot. She was questioned pretty hard by Senator Olsen who, from his remarks seems to see protection of wetlands on private property as a kind of “takings.” She fought him off quite well, I’m happy to say. But in the end the combined testimony against it wasn’t enough to sink the bill, at least to the extent that it would die in committee. Instead it was forwarded to “ways and means without recommendation.” Exactly what that means in legislative-speak I am not sure, but I suspect the bill will ultimately make its way to the floor of the senate for a vote. If there is another chance to attack it I will give it a go; but given that the arguments put forth in committee did not prevail this time ‘round I’m not convinced they would have a better chance in the full senate.

I think a major selling point for the bill was the idea that the decision as to whether a wetlands actually exists on a piece of private property can now be decided by a group of science minded people rather than by a judge. I can see some real positive attributes to that aspect of the bill and if access to the remedy it provides to private parties was also there for the public I could actually support most of it. But the latest revisions are still focused on applicants for wetlands cut and fill permits to an extent that potential opponents would left out in the cold. Or at least that’s my understanding to this point.

Interestingly enough the DSL supports this bill. They don't believe that it will add much if anything tot the cost of doing business because they don't anticipate that the option will be used all that much. I think. If I understood the testimony of the department's spokesperson, that belief is based upon the fact that rarely do applicants seek remedies to DSL determinations using the current process, e.g., bringing suit. But this additional option (exclusively available to the applicant for a permit) would be considerably less expensive than bringing a law suit and yet its outcome would be every bit as binding. I would not be surprised to see the option used quite frequently. 

Perhaps more than anything else this experience helped me recognize that I am at a tipping point with regard to the nature and scope of my involvement with wetlands issues. In the days leading up to the committee meeting I sunk considerable time and energy into working on my knowledge of the various OSBs, RSOs and other regulatory aspects involved in the case. Even so I felt almost completely unprepared for the exercise. If I am to function effectively, much less comfortably in such environments I will need to deepen my understanding and refine my insights considerably. That means time spent away from the creek and out of the watershed. Furthermore I am not certain that I could ever be very effective working in the political frame, even on an occasional basis.

On Monday I start work on what I hope will be the last pre-publication edit of my book. I won’t be blogging again, or doing much else for that matter, until I’m finished. When I finally get UP FANNO CREEK off my laptop and out into the world, I plan to take a trip over to the Eastside and spend a few days "witnessing.” I need to clear my head somehow before I grapple with how best to go forward with my future work in support of Fanno Creek and places like it.

Oregon Senate Bill 1582 - I Have Questions

whatCurrent land-use regs failed to protect nearly a quarter mile of urban wetlands. OSB1582 will lessen protections.

I’m headed to Salem Tuesday (2/14/2012) to ask some questions about a proposed piece of legislation, OSB 1582. I’m pretty excited about the prospect because (1) I’ve never attended a senate level legislative activity and (2) it is Oregon’s 153rd birthday. Oh, and it is Valentine’s day, but no biggie about that. Here’s a general summary of the bill as provided by the state:

Creates process by which applicant for permit to remove material from beds or banks of waters of this state, or for permit to fill waters of this state, may request arbitration of final order issued by Director of Department of State Land.

Changes certain processes related to wetlands delineation.

Declares emergency, effective on passage.

Here are some portions of the proposed bill’s language that pique my curiosity:

Section 2. (1) An applicant for a permit to remove…or fill any of the waters of this state, may request arbitration of a final order issued by the Director of State Lands…

Currently if an applicant for a cut/fill permit gets turned down s/he can appeal the decision through the DSL appellate process. If the appeal fails (“final order”) the applicant still has the right to seek other remedies, including submitting a new plan or taking the DSL to court. Neither of these are especially attractive alternatives, I’ll agree; but they are exactly the same alternatives that are available to anyone or any group that may have opposed the particular application in the first place. If I understand the bill at all (and I am pretty sure I do) it would establish a dispute-resolution option that is exclusively limited to the applicant. Why? Where’s the fairness in that? Doesn’t that effectively disenfranchise those who may be in opposition to the proposed cut/fill activity?

(2) Arbitration under this section must be conducted by a panel of three individuals…The arbitrators must be certified and in good standing with the Soil Science Society of America…

As Butch said to Sundance, “Who are these guys?” No offense intended towards the SSSA, but why doesn’t the bill specify a more water-oriented organization, the AIH (American Hydrological Society) for example, or maybe the SWS, the Society of Wetlands Scientists? If having the word “water” mentioned directly in the name of an organization isn’t important, then why is it that here in Oregon we have something called the Soil AND WATER Conservation District?

The arbitrators…shall be selected in the following manner:

(a) The department of State Lands shall select one…

(b) The applicant shall select one…

(c) The department and the applicant shall jointly select one…

Isn’t this a little like putting the coyote in the henhouse to make sure the fox doesn’t run off with the hens?

(5) The decision of the panel of arbitrators is limited to…affirming or setting aside…the director’s final order.

Why doesn’t the bill encourage the arbitrators to arbitrate instead of requiring them to judge? Why does this bill limit them to only one of two conceivable outcomes to the resolution of the dispute? Where’s the opportunity for these “certified” arbitrators to exercise their professional insights and/or wisdom? And a further question here: What constitutes a decision either way, 2/3 majority or consensus? What happens if there’s a split vote and the third arbitrator can’t decide?

Fees are discussed in (5)(a) through (6)(b). I spent some time trying to imagine how this kind of process might actually work, given all the unaddressed variables involved, until a much larger question thrust itself upon me: Why should taxpayers pay for even a portion of a process that essentially disenfranchises the public and further fetters an important state agency in the bargain? Doesn’t this suggest that the DSL bears some sort of culpability simply for upholding its mandate whenever it denies a permit?

Section 5: ORS196.674 is amended…

This existing law addresses Wetland Delineation. The proposed amendments begin with the following language:

(3) A system of delineating wetlands adopted by the Department of State Lands…must comport with:

(a)The United States Corps of Engineers Wetlands Delineation Manual of 1987; and (b) any subsequent federal supplements to the manual…provided that in no event may any rule (imposed by the State of Oregon) specify any guidelines or methods that exceeds those specified…by the United States Army Corps of Engineers.

Why do the provisions for the delineation of wetlands need to be amended as part of this proposed bill’s passage? Why adopt a maximum criteria for Oregon’s interests based upon a minimum criteria established at the federal level? Can’t we (and shouldn’t we) do better than that?

Section 5(5) further amends ORS 196.674 to provide a mechanism for removing land from the state’s inventory of wetlands if and when “…the vegetation, soil or hydrology of an area is sufficiently altered by recent human activities or natural events in such a manner that the vegetation, soil or hydrology indicates a wetland is not present…”

Right away I have to wonder what happened to this area in the first place. We haven’t been inventorying wetlands for much longer than we’ve been trying to protect them. What went wrong and why isn’t something being done to redress the situation?

The process for determining whether or not a wetland should be removed from the inventory looks somewhat like the arbitration idea discussed above. Making the call will require the services of another triumvirate:

• a botanist, one who is certified by a third-party that certifies experts in botany;
• a soil classifier certified by the Soils Science Society of America (Who are those guys?);
• an expert in soil water who is certified by a third party that certifies – wait for it – experts in soil water.

What is “an expert in soil water” called and who might certify one? (You guessed it, the SSSA.) And to pick a little more nit, how do the other life and geological specialties get addressed? You could end up with a panel rather than a trio, especially if you wanted to do a good job of the process. Why not just cut to the chase and get three individuals certified in wetlands science?

Section 5 is also worrisome because using the Corps standards would mean that a wetlands delineation would be good for ten rather than five years. The dynamics of watersheds these days is particularly volatile, especially in urban areas. We’d be better served with a shorter rather than longer life-span for these critical assessments.

Finally:

Section 10. This 2012 Act being necessary for the immediate preservation of the public peace, health and safety, an emergency is declared to exist` and this 2012 Act takes effect on its passage.

What’s up with that? Is this just some piece of boilerplate that legislators put on the ends of their bills to attract attention or is there genuine crisis out there that passing this bill and its amendments might impact? Maybe I’ll know more about that after I've attended Tuesday’s session.

Getting ready for the meeting and preparing my comments has taken a lot more time than it took to write the analysis/commentary above. I think it’s ok for me to shoot from the hip in my blog, but commenting more formally within the context of state business certainly requires a great deal more maturity, discipline and brevity. I’ll post a PDF of my testimony later today, after I’ve had a chance to review it more fully. If you’d be interested in commenting on the bill I urge you to visit

HOLD THE PRESSES!

After working on both this blog and my testimony for much of the last four days, moments ago (3:00 PM 2/13) a copy of an amended version of the bill showed up on my laptop. Given that it had taken the better part of two days to plow through both the bill’s language and the various ORSs and other documents it references I now have to regroup – and in a considerable hurry at that. This new bill is a little less directly worded than the first version.

Stay Tuned!

Raleighwood Revisited (1/19/2012)

Looking north through the heart of where Marlene's house used to stand.

I went by Marlene Azar’s old place today to see how the last 24 hours of heavy precipitation was moving its way through the watershed. The area is flooded, as is usually the case, and the two homes nearest the creek are just inches above the crest. The owner of the home closest to the creek (on Raleighwood Lane) was working on his garage door so I stopped by for a brief chat. He’s lived in the home for 11 years, which means he moved in just about the same time as Marlene began to have water issues on her property. The water level around his home was pretty high but the inside was dry and that’s what really counts. He noted that the basin where his home is located is silting up at what seems to be an even more rapid pace than previously. Beavers and THPRD’s unwillingness to rid the area of them were at the root of the problem, he told me. Then he suggested I take a look at the two dams that lie less than .1 mile south of his back yard. “They span the entire bottom of the floodplain,” he said. That surprised me. Last time I looked (which has been a year or so) there were three dams in the park but only one of them of any size.

The upper dam is just visible on the right hand side of the photo. 

When I pulled into the parking space at the main entrance to the park I was astonished to see (1) just how high the flood waters were in this area; (2) the size of the dam just north of the entrance (above); (3) the rim of a second dam of similar size that crosses the basin just 100 yards further to the south. Both dams were overflowing but neither appeared to be breached. The water was too deep for a wade so I was confined to shooting from a single perspective. When the waters subside and the ground dries out a bit I will go back and take some measurements.

After I left the park I traveled upstream a quarter mile north to part of a residential development called Laurian Grove.

One hell of a handsome rock, about 7 or 8 feet tall. 

Development taking place across the street from the sign. 

The newest housing near here dates from around 2008 and consists of large homes a million or more in value. The area lies just off Scholls Ferry Road and looks to be about 3.3 acres in overall size. A workman told me that four homes were in the process of going up on the upper portion of the open property. One of Sylvan Creek's tributaries drains through the northern section of the property (wooded area left side of frame). It's ravine is very heavily wooded and there's also a stormwater treatment area (fenced in bio-swale) located near where the channel crosses under 64th Place (outof sight to the left).

The upper rim of the developing area lies at around 400' but where the creek crosses under the bridge the elevation is 320' - a net drop of eighty feet in less than 800 feet. Pretty steep. The stormwater from this area flows for around 1500 feet before the tributary meets up with the mainstem of Sylvan Creek. The photo below was taken at the intersection of Sylvan Creek and SW 66th Avenue, about 300 feet upstream from that confluence. I'll try to talk to the home owner here someday and maybe get alook at what kind of rip-rap they've put at that corner. The elevation is right at 280 feet. 

This is Sylvan Creek as it exits the culvert at the dead-end of Preslynn Drive, elevation 260 feet. 

 Barely visible through the small gap in the tree line on the left (photo below) is the roof of one of Marlene's neighbors. The flooded area in the foreground is an extension of the property on the north side of Raleighwood Lane that invariably floods during heavy rain events.

As far as I can tell Laurian Grove is not a LID project. If this is true, that's too bad for the creek. It will have lost another three acre chunk of its biological machinery. Interestingly enough the remaining trees and the stream figure prominantly in the development's brochure. It would be wrong to maintain that this development will add signifiacntly to the ongoing siltification of the bottom land at Raleighwood Park. But at the very least it will add more stormwater runoff to the equation and that won't help. At bottom it's a complex situation: You can't blame the beavers or the builders from doing what comes naturally; but if they keep it up and we don't find some solid fixes for both ends of the problem soon, the future of the properties adjacent to the bottom reaches of Sylvan Creek could be grim.

 

 

 

 

Up Fanno Creek - Progress Report

This afternoon I took a 232 page bundle to Kinkos for binding. There are ten copies of this draft - the last one, I hope, before I sit down and prepare an actual manuscript. Pretty excited. I am sending it out to a dozen reviewers and hope to get their feedback by 2/15/2012. Boy, just getting to this point has been a long time coming. Still a ways to go but more excited than ever. Old friend Juliet Shen has volunteered to design the final book, which means that it will be beautiful no matter what. Stay tuned.

Happy Birthday Buddy!

Buddy at about three months.

Buddy at four.

Season's Greetings Everyone!

Winter Equinox Mandala 2011

Peace and Joy on this day, the second most wonderful of the year!

TMDL / WQMP for The Tualatin Basin

The Oregon Department of Environmental Quality (DEQ) is accepting public comments on the draft of The Tualatin Basin TMDL and WQMP until 5:00PM 11/30/2011. Mine are detailed below in a copy of the memo I sent to DEQ earlier today. I’ll have more to say about TMDLs, WQMPs, and a variety of other acronyms at a later date. Meanwhile the December “Drop Dead” date for the final draft of my book looms so I need to attend to that before anything else.

__________________________

To: Avis Newell / Oregon Department of Environmental Quality

From: Eric L. Lindstrom, EdD

Date: 11/29/2011

Re: Comments on TMDLs / Clean Water Services

It’s too bad there’s not a TMDL for something like “Total Stream Degradation.” Focusing on a few key and easily quantified characteristics of stream behavior such as nutrient loads, water temperature and so on is certainly a positive and necessary step in monitoring stream health. But until the actual drivers of these kinds of indices are addressed in some concrete regulatory form or another we won’t be dealing with the disease so much as we are its symptoms. For example, please regard the following photographs of Ball Creek.

Figure 1

These first two shots were taken above the culvert that directs the creek under 74^th street in Tigard. These were taken on 5/2/2009, around 5:30 PM. A storm had passed over the Tualatin Hills area approximately an hour earlier. It was a good downpour but nothing for the record books by any means. The culvert lies less than 300 feet from the stream’s confluence with Fanno Creek. Figure 1 shows the receiving side of the flow while Figure 2 shows the outflow on the downstream side.

Figure 2

The next shot (Figure 3) was taken just below the south rim of PCCs southernmost parking lot (45N 26.169 W122 43.892 approx.) in an area that lies immediately below the a catchment that is designed to reduce, at least in part, the full force of the water flowing off the parking lot. (I believe that drainage from areas other than the parking lot comes through this place as well but have no precise data as to where from or how much. At this particular spot the channel is about four feet deep and six feet wide.

Figure 3

About 100 feet further down the slope the channel is roughly 12 feet wide and 7 feet deep. For scale the smaller rocks in the center of the photo range from baseball to basket ball size. The main channel has also been joined by three smaller but still impressive incisions entering from the west side. A fourth channel (Figure 4) is beginning to form on the east side as well.

Figure 4

I was so impressed by the dynamics of this site that I went to the trouble of working up a guess at the volume of silt that had to wash out of the first 100 feet of the single channel in order to leave this kind of scar tissue. Very approximately it came to 200 cubic yards. The college went operational in 1961 but I think this portion of the parking area wasn’t fully completed until the late 1990s. If that assumption and my rough numbers are even close, that means an average of better than 10 cubic yards of silt have been blown out of the first 100 feet of this channel every year. The quality and accuracy of my math notwithstanding, you don’t need a calculator to tell you that this open wound contributes a huge amount of silt and parking lot byproducts – oils, anti-freeze, brake dust etc. – to the main-stem flow of Fanno Creek every time it rains even moderately in the area. All you have to do is stand there once and see it in the flesh.

The conditions on Ball Creek aren’t unique. There are dozens of places such as this one in the Fanno Creek watershed alone and hundreds more throughout the Tualatin River Basin. The issues this kind of hydrology creates for the rest of the watershed are systemic and pernicious. The quantity of undesirable silt and other potentially damaging materials these open sores are sloughing off into the river must be absolutely stupendous. So too must be the damage that is being done to the biological communities downstream. None of the currently used indices directly measures the impacts of these festering sores on water quality. More importantly none of them provide a lever for getting at the specific stormwater runoff issues that literally and figuratively lie at the source of most of the river’s major biological health issues.

The ratio of pervious to impervious surface area is relatively easy to quantify, particularly in the urban areas where control of this relationship is most critical. The correlation between this ratio and the biological health of a stream and its watershed is both significant and well understood. Accordingly I am urging the adoption of a specific TMDL for Impervious Cover based on the Healthy Streams plan developed by Clean Water Services (pg. 59-60). At the minimum such a TMDL would provide leverage for the more direct control of stormwater runoff and all its associated issues. But it has the added advantage of providing a reliable surrogate for evaluating the biological health of the system as well.

The 303d list of biologically impaired streams in the Fanno Creek watershed does not include several tributaries whose impacts on the overall health of the creek are almost certainly significant. These include Sylvan Creek (all three of its upland stems), Columbia Creek, No Name Creek and the Bridlemile-Ivey creek complex in the northern headwaters of the system, and Bell and Derry Dell creeks in the southern reaches. Some of these creeks are very short in terms of total stream length, but all are heavily incised and becoming more so every day. Both Sylvan and Derry Dale creeks are of particular concern due to the landslides frequently associated with their behaviors. None are adequately monitored, if monitored at all. Until some semblance of measurement of their respective contributions to the overall health of the system is determined the full dimensions of Fanno Creek’s degradation will not be fully known. Accordingly I am requesting that these streams be covered under the pervious cover/biological health TMDL proposed above.

I have more photographs on hand that provide some evidence for the degree of degradation these streams endure and would be happy to make them available to DEQ if so desired. I would also be happy to provide further narrative and acquire additional photography on behalf of the DEQ should such action be deemed necessary for advancement of the Impervious Cover TMDL and the clean water cause. However photographs generally fail to adequately portray the full dimensions of the problem so I suggest a tour of some of these areas would prove to be even more useful in the decision making process. In such an event please let me know and I would be happy to provide some rough coordinates for some of the more typical and easily accessed places.

Respectfully submitted,

Eric L. Lindstrom, EdD – 11/28/2011

Three Fingers

The great nature photographer Eliot Porter rarely included the sky in his photographs. “The sky is too blue,” he is reported to have said on more than one occasion. I have reflected on Porter’s approach more than a little, particularly of late. It is very difficult to capture the moment in Owyhee Country when the clear sky is included in a shot. As Porter noted, the color is so strong and devoid of texture it overpowers the more subtle complexities of the landscape. But it is also very difficult to capture the broken tops of the giant rocks that crowd most canyons without showing a good deal of the sky in the process. The shot above is a perfect illustration of the quandary so often presented to shooters in these circumstances, as you can prove for yourself simply by using something opaque to crop out the sky.

There are a couple solutions for this problem, one that I am certain Porter utilized many times in his own work and another that he may have been too much of a purist to use. First, get on top of the image. In other words change your position in such a way that the sky helps guide the viewer's glance deeper into the center of the shot. I tried that approach in the photo below but unfortunately ran out of hilltop before I reached the vantage point I wanted. That particular spot was just fifty feet above my head, but what my GPS map had failed to mention was that this particular fifty feet was a vertical column – a basalt plug – that I was both too ill-equipped and too ill-disposed to climb. Still, I think the shot below gives a better sense of the enormity of the place, even if it cost a little in the way of detail to pull it off.

In addition to changing perspective you can try to milk the sky for any variation in tone and texture it might be able to give you. In this day and age of digital image manipulation the ease of making “corrections” is pronounced that most shooters simply can’t resist the temptation to take liberties with the documentation of the scene. In Porter’s day this kind of post-production “artistry” would have been both difficult and expensive, particularly where color imagery was concerned. In the image below I messed with the sky to the east (frame right), adding a little density and motion to the edges of an approaching thunderhead that was just a few miles out of frame. Nothing too heavy handed I hope, but maybe enough to make the sky even less obtrusive?

Finally, you can check off your initial approach completely and crop the damned thing down until the sky is a non-factor. But this shot is more about the contrasting colors and textures than it is about the rugged grandeur of the place.

At any rate, isn’t this place magnificent? I am sorry to say my pictures only hint at the overall power of the area, but I’m pretty used to that kind of shortfall where things Owyhee are concerned. 

On the way up to the vantage point I happened to spot a herd of Rocky Mountain sheep on a distant hillside. When I first saw them they were scattered all over the slope, but minutes later they had crowded together in the herd shown here. No doubt some kind of predator on the down slope, but exactly what I could never tell. They stayed like this for more than fifteen minutes before swiftly leaving the area. (Double click on the image and it should open to a larger size.)

Seems like where ever you hike in the canyons or along the rims there’s some wonderful rock or rocky feature that you  just have to shoot. I’m not sure what kind of bird is perched on the rock in this first one. It wasn’t there when I took the shot!

This outcropping has the look of turrets to it, a common characteristic of crumbling basalt formations.

Back down on the road to the parking area I was surrounded by these kinds of columns. Just wish I knew more about geology. I’m sure there are several interesting stories showing here, if only I could read them.

I'll return to this wonderful place as soon as possible. There's a trail here that leads all the way down to the lake and I am very interested in seeing what that stretch is like. And then there are always the rocks....

Owyhee - September Sojourn

Cow Pasture, Owyhee style. 

In my last post I focused on Antelope Reservoir and wrote about re-covering some fairly familiar ground; but the main emphasis of the September trip was to look into three places new to me: Gin Basin, Painted Canyon and Three Fingers Gulch. By “look in” I mean to say that I was scouting them in preparation for more extensive exploration in the future. I was traveling alone, if you don’t count Buddy, who more often than not would not get out of the truck during midday. I wasn't prepared for anything like a long hike over unknown and possibly difficult ground. As I’ve mentioned several times in the past, I’m not so much afraid of being injured out there so much as I am of having to be rescued. What a humiliation that would be. At any rate my plan was to drive to a convenient look-in point, take a few shots and maybe a short hike to establish my grasp of the terrain, then move on.

The headwaters area of Painted Canyon lie in some wonderfully jumbled up terrain about 10 miles north/northeast of the Leslie Gulch campgrounds as the crow flies. I’m using Leslie Gulch as my reference point because (1) some folks who occasionally visit this site know of it, (2) the road to it from Highway 97 is a good one, passable for all but a few days out of the year and (3) there’s a cutoff on this main road that leads to both Painted Canyon and Three Fingers Gulch.

There's a sign at the cutoff, one that I've never seen out this way before. It gives information on collecting petrified wood. If there is any sign out here that isn't riddled with bullet holes I've never seen it.

The road isn’t too bad by Owyhee standards meaning you can get up and down it in dry weather without needing a Humvee. I’d have to think twice about trying it in wet weather using my Escape. Several areas I passed through had that strange viscose feeling that so much of the ground has out here even when it is dry. Put a little water with this stuff and you come up with something like a hybrid between mortar and quicksand.

Half the fun of getting anywhere around here is found in the drive itself. The landscape is so full of wonderful rock formations that you'd have to stop every five minutes if you wanted to collect them all photographically.

It's been a good water year so many of the stock ponds are full and still relatively algea free. There are many of them in this improbable landscape. 

A reverse angle highlights the contrast between water and rock. I can't blame the cattle for hanging around here on a hot late summer day.

In several areas along the route I came across these outcroppings, places where bubbles in the volcanic flows were frozen in time until weathering brought them to the surface millions of years later. In these areas the rock, if you could see it in cross section would look like Swiss cheese.

What with all the poking around it was midday before we made it to the rim of Painted Canyon. Buddy was hungry! (No, I don't give him sardines. He had a few chips with his water and dog cookie however. That's why he's smiling.)


It was at this site where I stumbled upon the idea of making some Sun Coffee. I'd left one of my water bottles lying in the sun on the dash and discovered that it was hot to the touch. I happened to have a box of VIa in the glove compartment and the next thing you know a reasonably OK cup of coffee was brewing away on the canyon rim.

The next image shows one of three main drainages to the lip of the headwaters area (upper center); the next several after that take you on a progression of stops around the southern rim and illustrate both the ruggedness and a little of the beauty of this canyon. There’s supposed to be a trailhead somewhere near the top of Painted Canyon but I am not sure I actually found it. There are “trails” along both rims in the area but I think these may have been game trails. I followed one for about half a mile along the rim of the canyon and found a place where it looked as if it would make for a fairly safe and rope-free entrance. But a real bushwhacker would probably sniff at that kind of sissy approach and have gone for the short rappel that would be needed in order to get down into the uppermost reach of the canyon.

To begin with, what might be the trail head if you are prepared to rope your pack down into the ditch and then follow it down with some nifty rock climbing or maybe a bit of rappeling. It would be simple enough to back the truck up to near this spot and use the trailer hitch as a tie-off point. Not in my future, since I think I found a less macho but far "easier" in-route further down the canyon.

Along the rim and looking back at the head area. Remember what I said about Swiss cheese? If you enlarge this image a little you will be able to see my coffee brewing! The bottle and the little bush next to it are perched on the top of the small rise (two little side-by-side specks upper right center).

A little further along the rim and a little deeper into the canyon. That notch in the distance is about two miles down canyon. From that spot the canyon (which overall is oriented northeast to southwest) makes a half mile long jog furtherto the south and then intersects Carlton Canyon. Carlton Canyon in its turn runs east to west and opens up on Lake Owyhee.

Looking back up canyon from roughly the same spot you can just see the truck on the rim.

As unlikely as it may seem from this photo (below) the ravine that runs in from the left (just behind the rock) may offer the easiest access to the floor of canyon, from this rim at least. And it may be the only one as well, according to my maps and my eyeball. The walls look very steep from this point onward. This vantage point lies about half mile down from the headwaters area. Elevation is at about 4000 feet and the floor of the canyon is around 200 feet further down. The ravine runs for about 1500 feet (quarter of a mile) and looks to be reasonably passable. Maybe another day I will find out for sure. 

On the way back to the truck I stopped to admire a sun bleached bone that someone (or something) left perched upon a boulder. 

I was suddenly being scoped out by one of the area's more brazen beasts. He refused to move until I actually poked hime with my finger. Which then he attempted to bite! You don't suppose....?

Next post I'll cover the Three Fingers look-in. Stay tuned....












 

 

Back To Camp Rabbit

Buddy and I returned to Camp Rabbit earlier this month. I've lost track of how many times I've perched on the rocky ridgeline that provides this view of Antelope Reservoir. Six or seven at least. It's become sort of a last-day ritual. I'll fill a thermos with coffee, saddle up my camera bag, put the leash on Buddy and then head for the ridge. That small trailer in the upper left hand corner is Shorty, our new pop-up camper. It's parked in the space I tent camped in the first time I ever visited the place. That was a decade ago, back when I was still using film in my camera instead of micro chips. I didn't get really serious about the area until a trip in late August of 2007. By that time I had purchased a relatively decent digital camera (Nikon D-40) and was able to take shots of the reservoir at a time when it had been drawn down for irrigation purposes to almost the point of non-existence. The shot below, taken from almost the same vantage point as the one above but with a slightly wider lens, provides a glimpse into the situation.

The trailer in the shot above belonged to someone else. That trip (and most others after the first one) I pitched my tent on a point that lies just off camera to the right. The location offers a great deal more privacy. Not that privacy is usually much of an issue at this BLM campground. I've never seen all its four sites in use at the same time and on all but a couple of occassions I have been the only multi-day user. The site also priovided a view of a wonderfully tough little cottonwood that struggled for years to adjust to the height fluctuations of the water.

This scruffy little tree came to figure significantly in the visit-lore I brought back from these trips. Many times it would be the first thing I would see as I emerged from my tent in the morning.

On a trip my son and I made to the place end of summer 2010 the tree was a major focal point for us as well as for the resident blackbirds. One afternoon we saw more than two dozen males crowd into the tree all at one time. Interestingly there were as many or more females around but they stayed on the ground.

May of this year the situation for the tree had changed drastically. I came with my son-in-law Matt and we camped in the regular place. In the shot below you can see that the tree was barren. Given that it was late in May, that was not a good sign.

It's been a good water year for the state, Owyhee Country included, so when I returned myself for a second visit this month (September) I wasn't surprised to see that my favorite campsite has become totally overgrown. The landmark tree had been reduced to a dead snag.

In all its parts the Owyhee Country is a harsh and ever-changing place. In a strange way that's why I am so drawn to it. This last trip was very productive in the sense that I tool a lot of photos and looked in at some areas I've never visited before. I am way behind getting to the imagery and information, but I'll post more as soon as possible.

The Blue Basin (and more)

Back in August daughter Erica and I had a chance to explore a little of The John Day Basin and adjacent areas of the Ochoco National Forest. It was a short trip, just four days including travel time, but we had a wonderful time. Here are some of the photos from that excursion.

Our campsite at Walton Lake. This is a bit idealized so far as the sense of privacy is concerned. In reality the park is one of the most heavily used in Oregon and the pathways are usually busy. Still, it was a good spot and we had a very enjoyable stay, sometimes-loud-neighbors and a jill-billion yellowjackets not withstanding.

The lake is small, something around a mile in circumference, and makes for an enjoyable evening walk. It's well stocked with rainbow trout and the fishing activity only lets up after dark.

It's a heavily timbered area with Ponderosa being the dominant species.

Our trip coincided with the outbreak of fires throughout central Oregon including one that charred more than 50,000 acres near the Clarno Unit and Hancock Station. The resultant smoke made for some interesting sunsets.

Day 2 was spent mostly in the car as we drove from one area of interest to another. First we looked into the campgrounds at Wildcat and then the trail heads for Steins Pillar and Twin Pillars. Steins Pillar looks like a dandy and we will definitely come back and make the hike another day.

The Twin Pillars hike looks like a good one as well although much of the area is still recovering from the 2000 Hash Rock Fire.

Erica looks northeast across a recovering burn area and towards Twin Pillars (above). Later we stopped at a vantage point that gave us a clear albeit distant view of Hash Rock itself.

We spent much of the day simply running the rough roads along the ridge that separates the John Day Basin from the Ochoco forest. We looked for Black Butte, one of the most distinctive features of the southern approach to the Basin and almost couldn't see it due to the heavy haze - just visible dead center in the picture below.

It was pretty late in the year for wildflowers but we did encounter what I think must be wild currants in considerable numbers.

Fields of false hellebore were plentiful as well, both on the ridge top and along the shore of Lake Walton.

For some reason or other ants seem to be particularly attracted to the dying leaves of the hellebore.

We finished the day by taking in the Painted Hills Unit. Even in the smoke filled air the place is something to see. I've photographed the section along the east side of the park a half dozen times but could not help adding another image or two of the area to my files.

I wonder how many visitors get so wrapped up in the power of the hills near the entrance and forget how much more the site has to offer? I know that happened to me the first several times I visited. Even on a day when the quality of the light is relatively poor the textures and colors can be captivating.

But the Unit has a lot more to offer than these fabulous mounds of ash and clay, particularly since in the last several years the site has seen some major renovations to the grounds.

When I first visited the interpretive area west of the main painted hills area (over a decade ago) that portion of the site featured a rickety boardwalk and some very primitive signage. I'm not sure when it was all upgraded, but for the last few years visitors have been able to tour this portion of the unit on a state of the art walkway. The signage is much better as well.

This trip I paid my first visit to an area of the park known as the Leaf Hill Trail. The trail is very short and skirts a solitary red mound of ample proportions and nearly perfect symetry. 

The trail around Red Hill is short but along the way if you look carefully you may be able to find a fossil or two. Here's one that I found that may be a foot print of one of the earliest inhabitants. Size .09 D I think.

The trail is very new and the nearby area was seriously disturbed during development of the site. A great deal of grading had taken place in a nearby drainage area, presumably to combat flash flooding issues. Monkey flowers were growing everywhere in that area, a flower so delicate and so somehow out of place that I presumed it was an invasive non-native. But like fireweed it is both native and lovely. 

One of the reasons I picked the John Day Basin for our trip was to look into a number of campgrounds that are located near the three units of the fossil beds. We also wanted to visit the Thomas Condon Palentology Center located in the Sheeps Rock Unit. The center is several years old but until this trip I had never set foot in the place. Wow! What a great place. I could spend several days there. I'll be returning as soon as time and circiumstances permit. All of this we accomplushed between 9 AM and 4 PM that day. The heat of the day (and it was a hot one) had come and would soon be fading with the lowering sun. Just the right time to set out on the 3+mile hike that follows the permimeter of the Blue Basin.

The Blue Basin is one of the most remarkable places I've visited in Oregon, or anywhere else for that matter. We entered in the north end of the loop trail which turned out to be the recommended proceedure.

It's not a particularly difficult trail but as we worked ourway up through the deep and shady ravine on the north side the lack of a breeze made the lingering heat from the ground oppressive. 

There are a couple resting areas along the trail including one on the upper crest of the basin. In the view below the the trail down runs along the face of the opposite hill (the faint line just above Erica's hat).

As we made our way downhill the sun began to sink behind a cloud bank on the horizon. Meanwhile to the east a thunderstorm had formed and as best we could tell was fast approaching our area.

We picked up the pace a little but even so stopped for awhile at what is probably the best overlook on the whole trail. I want to come back to this exact same spot some evening when the sunlight is a little more full range. The colors are even more incredible than what you can see here.

As I've said on a previous post or two, for years the John Day Basin was, for me, THE outdoor destination. Then I visited Owyhee Country and fell deeply in love with all those wonderful piles of scrambled rock. Now I feel very conflicted about which I love the most. Guess I'll have to keep them both!

 

 

Murder in the Garden

Yesterday evening, just as we were sitting down to dinner on the back deck I noticed a dead bee hanging from one of the florettes of a nearby elephant garlic plant (Allium ampeloprasum). At first glance it appeared that the unfortunate lass had somehow managed to catch her stinger in the florette itself.

Cause of death based on this assumption would have to be chalked up to starvation or exposure. That seemed highly unlikely to me, however, and a closer inspection revealed that the corpse was actually lashed in place with a number of extremely fine threads.

The prime suspect, a well known serial killer, was ultimately discovered, lurking in her hiding place deep among the florettes on the the far side of the bloom.

A white crab spider (family Thomisidae). Case closed.

 

Friends of the John Day Basin

Looking south into the heart of the John Day Basin from from a hilltop on Night Hawk Ranch.

Note: This is an old post that has been sitting in the “out box” for quite some time, just needing me to put the photos with it. Where does all the time go? I mention this because in the nearly three months that have passed since I visited Jim Carlson and first learned about FOTJDB there have most probably developments with his budding organization that I am unaware of. Accordingly I’ve invited Jim to comment on the post and/or maybe give me some additional material to post here.

Back in April, as a side trip to my participation in ONDA’s annual meeting, I had the chance to spend a few days on Night Hawk Ranch. The spread is located just north of the Twickenham Crossing on the John Day River. Jim Carlson, the owner had invited folks headed to the ONDA Annual Meeting to stop by the ranch prior to the meeting and learn about – and maybe become involved in - the formation of a new advocacy group. The group is called Friends of the John Day Basin and will focus on restoration projects specific to one of most environmentally unique and important areas in the entire Pacific Northwest. Potential project sites include the Painted Hills area and a number of wilderness studies areas including Pat’s Cabin, Horse Heaven, Cathedral Rock, Spring Basin Wilderness, and Sutton Mountain.

Given the size of the Basin and the scope of its issues, Jim’s outline of first year activities seems pretty realistic:

• Coordinate with other groups with similar interests and missions
• Identify opportunities for small restoration projects
• Recruit volunteers, preferably from local constituencies
• Research the area physically and through a review of the literature
• Establish a website and open communications channels
• Conduct 1 to 3 small scale restoration projects

For the moment it appears Jim is fronting the entirety of this enterprise. As far as I know he has not yet applied for 501 c 3 status so attracting cash donations will be a bit of a challenge. I don’t think he has begun work on any grants either. I did a rough estimate of what it took in the way of gasoline, firewood and construction to get his “camp grounds” ready for visitors. It wasn’t chickenfeed. He asked a nominal fee from those of us who attended the April intro, something like $10 as I recall, and if I hadn’t made him take that plus a little extra he’d have blown off collecting it entirely. This means that (1)there’s a lot more than simple sweat-equity involved in starting up a do-some-good organization and (2) one lone individual has taken on the (typically thankless) burden of bearing the first portion of pretty much the entire initial load. I hope he can get some reinforcements soon.

Jim's very cool ranch house. Before building this baby Jim spent five years living in a tent located a half mile away.

The weather was “questionable” for this trip, meaning that it was unclear as to just how miserable a camping experience it might turn out to be. Weather forecasts for that period were not promising. I think those forecasts and the fact that the visit took place mid-week helped limit turn out. Just three of us were crazy enough to show. Over the three day visit rain showers hit the area several times, sometimes very heavily. It was wet most of the time and it got cold to damned cold at night (one night the thermometer inside Shack hit 29). But overall it was a pleasant enough physical experience, thanks in good part to Jim’s great hospitality and his more than serviceable camp ground. His cook shack was spacious and the custom made wood stove inside was a real dandy. I stayed in Shack In The Box and except for the first night was generally  snug as a bug in a rug.

We took a few short hikes with Jim as our guide, including one into an area that was a little like a miniature version of the Painted Hills.

While exploring this site we came across quite a few tracks including those of deer, coyote and cougar. 

That's Jim in his best tracker mode. I tried to get him to look like he was sniffing the track out, but he demurred.

 We also visited a place that I have named "The Girds Creek Gates."

These steep rock formations lie near an area known as Black Canyon and are highly photogenic even in crappy light.

This is the southeastern wall of the Gate and lies in perpetual shadow. All along its face it is lush with vegetation. Below a detail from the upper left section of this shot.

Just across the road (below) the area is sun beaten for most of the day, leading to an altogether different kind of habitat.

We also took a swing by the Painted Hills Unit of the John Day Fossil Beds. I had heard that there had been some major renovations made to board walk interpretive trail and was curious to see how the layout may have changed since the last time I walked it in the '90s. I came away very impressed with the revised layout and well built walkway.

My companions for most of my stay at Jim's ranch (Lon and Dave) and I pose for a group shot at one of the info markers along the walkway.

In addition to touring the area with Jim and the others I spent a few hours walking a ridge that runs along the west boundary line of the ranch. Since good light was generally nowhere to be found I ended up focusing on the ground itself rather than on the landscape. There’s a whole ‘nother world down there if you know how to get to it. It’s been a long time since I seriously pursued macro photography. Almost twenty years of professional grade jewelry photography pretty much burned that interest out of me. But the results from this brief outing have prompted me to begin work on an album titled “Under Foot.” Here are a couple samples:

I first visited the John Day Basin 1992. Hard to believe it’s been almost twenty years! For a long time it was my favorite part of the state and I would get over there as often as possible. Today that distinction goes to the Owyhee Country, but I still get over to the area near Jim’s ranch at least once a year, if for no other reason than to see what’s new in the Painted Hills. Maybe I'll have to make that twice a year from here on out.

SHACK ON THE BLOCK

 

A few weeks ago my wife looked up from her magazine and said, "I think we should think about getting a camper. A real one." Long story short, we went on from there to buying a niftty little Starcraft pop-up and will be taking it out for our first camping trip very soon. Meantime, SHACK is up for sale on Craigslist. Tell all your hunting, fishing and camping friends!

Jordan Valley and More

The morning commute in Jordan Valley.

The first week in May son-in-law Matt and I spent a few days in the Jordan Valley area. We set up at Camp Rabbit on Antelope Reservoir, a site I’ve camped in for at least a half dozen times now. It is not one of the most scenic campgrounds in the area, nothing as special as Three Forks or Succor Creek, but it is centrally located and the reservoir itself is always interesting. This trip the lingering spring rains have filled it to the brim. Quite a contrast to how it looks in particularly dry times.

Above, the reservoir Matt and I saw this last visit, the highest I've ever seen it. Note the top of the small tree several dozen yards off shore. Quite a contrast to the one below, which was taken from the deck of the same flood gate in August, 2007.

We took along a new kitchen tent this trip, a thing called the Alaskan Guide Gazebo that I purchased from Cabella’s. It’s big and heavy and wonderful. I’m not sure we set it up exactly right but it weathered a very hard blow the second evening without much fuss, a wind so strong I am certain it would have taken down the old rig I used to have. The thing has lots of head room and is big enough for a whole tribe if it came down to it. You can seal it up completely or you can roll up three of its six sides and let the breeze blow through the screened interior. A view of the camp on the morning of day one shows the scale of the New camp kitchen on the left.

The first day we journeyed over to Coffee Pot Crater. The roads were in fair condition, considering all the rain, and in general driving wasn’t any more of a nail biting experience than it usually is. Matt loved the crater, as I suspected he might. It is such a fantastic place. This was my fourth visit and I came away as entranced as I did on the first.

Matt on the northeast rim of Coffee Pot Crater. 

From Coffee Pot we back-tracked a bit until we could get on the road to Birch Creek, then after a time took the fork that leads south to Iron Point. Very rough going, and very muddy in spots, but we never came close to high-centering or getting stuck. The weather was fine but we hit the overlook way too close to mid-afternoon to get good light. We walked north along the rime for a ways and then returned to the truck and headed out on the south end of the overlook loop. We hadn’t gone far when we spooked a cougar. Yup, an honest to god big cat. He flushed from the tall grasses on our left and then bounded across the road and into the equally tall grasses on our right. I’d put the range at less than 100 yards and we got a good, clear look at his head. What a sight. We were just collecting our wits when a small herd of Pronghorns flushed from the general direction the cat went and crossed the road in front of us headed in the opposite direction. All too quick for me to even get the camera up from the floor boards, dang it.

Next trip out this way I will make a serious effort to catch the right light in this place. 

The next day we drove out to Succor Creek and then after a short visit drove over to Leslie Gulch. I’ve wanted to do a follow-up hike along the ridge line that runs north from the boat launch area for a long time now. The last two times I made the hike I stopped short of reaching a particular saddle that intrigued me the first time I saw it. The four mile round trip took just a few hours even though the elevation changes were many and substantial. The light was rotten for photos and in the exposed areas the wind was blowing heavily enough to make it hard to stand up. Great trip, however and I am so glad Matt was there to share it with me. What an incredible place, even in less than flattering light.

At Leslie Gulch our destination was the shelf that lies directly behind the book-end shaped rock right of center. We reached that in under an hour and were able to look back at the previous vantage point, the small group of rocks on the ridge just right of center in the view below.


The last day we focused on one area: the headwaters of Jack Creek. Last year I tried to make the trek with what turned out to be a torn miniscus in my left knee. Thanks to training and encouragement I received from Amy Benton, a physical therapist with TAI, my knee has healed up nicely. What was an agonizing experience a year ago turned out to be a relative breeze this time around. We parked the truck on Jack Creek Road (about 5080) and made short work out of the 1.3 mile hike to the headwaters (5340). These headwaters are located on the flanks of the peak (5800) that rises just east of Parsnip Peak (6100). We went on up to top and were rewarded with a great 270 degree view of the area. 

Altogether we hiked four miles that last afternoon. Then we took a quick trip over to Charbonneau’s grave site to pay our respects.

We packed up a lot of the camp that afternoon and then had a great gut-bomb dinner – Polish sausage, baked beans, canned fruit and cookies. Throughout the trip Matt did all the dishes, bless him, and ate what I cooked without complaint. It was an outstanding trip, even though the good weather didn't show up until the last night.

I’m not sure when I will be able to return to this area again. I’m booked out this way on October – volunteering with ONDA – but that trip will be focused on the extreme southeast corner of the state and I may not come by JV at all. I’ll be back before too long, however, of that I am pretty sure. The area is in my blood now.

Pulling Fence With ONDA

Part of the work party assembles near the trail head that leads to Porcupine Butte.

Last week I attended the annual business meeting of the Oregon Natural Desert Association. I became a member just a couple months ago and figured attending the gathering would give me a better of sense for what to expect from the outfit. Let me say right up front that I really appreciated the format the organization used for this event. Altogether there may have been an hour of general business (the Board met separately) most of that focused on pass-through information. The rest of the event – it ran from Friday evening to Sunday mid-morning – was designed to nurture the relationship building process.

OMSI’s Hancock Station served as the main venue for the meeting. The station is located in sage brush country just off Highway 218, about 2 miles east of where the highway crosses the beautiful John Day River and maybe 20 miles west of Fossil. Given the nature of the organization it would be hard to find a locale and facility more perfectly matched to this kind of purpose. The amenities are rustic but generally comfortable and the staff is both professional and personable.

The highlight of the meeting, at least from my standpoint, was a work party I joined on Saturday morning. There were several of these parties to choose from, each designed to provide a direct stewardship experience, including one specifically for families. The sign-up sheets provided brief descriptions of each task and the physical degree-of-difficulty involved. I skimmed the descriptions and looked for familiar names instead of particulars. When I discovered that several of the oldest participants had signed up for the fence pulling detail on Porcupine Butte I decided to join them. I’d hiked a few miles with a couple of these men just a few days earlier and figured if they could handle a five mile outing, so could I.

Leif, age 72 and another Mazama member as it turns out, steps out onto a makeshift bridge spanning Pine Creek.

The distance was less of an issue for me than the elevation change involved. The description noted that there would be a 1300 foot increase in elevation from the jump-off point on Highway 218 to the highest fence post 2.5 miles into the hike. On our regular daily walks Buddy and I usually cover ground that involves a 200 foot elevation change in something under a mile. From time to time we follow another route that entails a 500 foot change in just under 2 miles. We don’t push ourselves too much on these walks but we do them two or three times a week. Given that kind of regularity and the age of some of the participants (Lon, pictured below, is 80) I felt it was worth a go. Besides, I had never pulled fence before and wanted to see what that was like.

A couple gnarly old dudes.

I’ll not dwell on unpleasantness here. Suffice it to say that I was good for the first mile or so. After that every step upward was an exercise in embarrassment. For the rest of the ascent I was anywhere from a 100 to 300 yards behind the main group. A few of these stalwarts seemed able to almost sprint up the monstrous incline, including Lon who always seemed to be among the group always at the front of the column!

For most of the uphill part of the trip this is as close as I ever got to the main body of the group. 

I stopped frequently to ease my screaming muscles and suck in air, sometimes making only a hundred feet or so between each effort. A young woman named Betsy poked along with me for a good part of the journey. As is the custom on such treks someone in the team gets stuck with insuring that stragglers make it to the end of the trail. Betsy had obviously drawn the short straw. I told her not to make a fuss over me, I could make it on my own. “Oh don’t worry,” she said, “I like this kind of pace myself.” The sincerity in her tone was somewhat undercut by the fact that we were standing still at the time.

Barb Wire Betsy, as I came to call her after awhile. On the hike up she made sure I didn't pass out somewhere in the sage brush.

When we reached the lower end of the fence line we took a few minutes to learn the basics of taking down a barbed wire fence. Then we split up into two groups, one of which would hike another half mile higher up to the last post in the line. For some insane reason I elected to go with this group.

Devon, the team leader begins a demonstration on fence pulling techniques. 

Devon looks on while other team members take a turn trying to pull a post left upright by a previous group. 

The uplands team heads out past a cache of posts and wire left behind by a previous group.    

 The last half mile was pretty steep - about 320 feet change in elevation overall. I stopped from time to time to look back (wistfully) at the other half of the team we had left behind.

 This view of the downslope group gives some sense of the scale of the countryside. What a great place.

Somehow I persevered and finally joined the others at the top before they had tackled more than a hundred feet of fence line.

L-R - Lon, Craig, Leif, Laurel, Matt and Chris begin taking down fence just below the butte's 3040 foot summit.

My wind and my legs may be less than what they should be but my upper body strength is fair. I was able to pitch in an and contribute enough muscle to the work to feel at least useful. For the most part I worked with the fence pulling tool, a simple lever-fulcrum device that did a great job of jerking posts right out of the ground most of the time.

The Two Craigs work with the pole puller on one of the more difficult stretches of fence.

There were a couple stretches of ground where the posts were so solidly buried that no amount of weight on the end of the lever could budge them. In those cases the only option left was to bend the iron stakes back and forth until they came apart at ground level.

Chris and Matt. These two were in such obvious good shape and high spirits that they were disgusting. I should be so buff.

That morning we had packed our own lunches and around 1:00 PM stopped work long enough to eat them. I had a boiled egg, a can of sardines (Mediterranean style), a half dozen peppered crackers, a can of V-8, a stick of string cheese, a Mandarin orange and a chocolate chip cookie. Yummmy!

The Picnickers - Scott, Laurel, Chris, Matt and Craig.

We left camp around 9:30 that morning and were back by 2:30 that afternoon. In the relatively short time we were on the hill we had managed to remove a half mile of well-built three-wire fence. The sense of satisfaction involved in such work is hard to express, but it doesn’t surprise me that these kinds of work parties fill up with volunteers almost the instant that openings are announced. I’ll be doing another one someday, but in the interim I think Buddy and I need to work on some conditioning issues. I suspect that even with a lot of hard work I’ll always have trouble keeping up with Lon. As it turns out he is a member-in-good-standing with the Mazamas, mountain climbers who eat hills like Porcupine Butte for breakfast. Next time I see his name on a work party list I will think twice before I sign up.

In this "before" picture Laurel is removing the metal clip that holds the top wire to the fence post.

After. I can't wait to tackle another stretch. Maybe one on less steep terrain, however.
 

 

No Pity (Thousand Cuts Department)

Wetlands delineation flags and Canada geese on the future site of Portland Timbers practice field.

If all goes according to plan the Portland Timbers will one day practice right here in Beaverton. Tualatin Hills Park and Recreation District has struck a ten-year deal with the soccer team that includes the development of a couple athletic fields and a support facility. The City of Beaverton and THPRD are very excited about this deal and I suspect it will be generally supported by most of the folks in the area. But the construction involved will take a heavy toll on Fanno Creek. Too heavy to be acceptable, in fact. Here’s a general outline of the situation.

The location currently designated for the 7.5 acre training facility lies less than a quarter of mile to the north and west of where Fanno Creek passes under Highway 217. The acreage comprises about half of a larger parcel recently purchased by Tualatin Hills Park and Recreation District (THPRD). As outlined by the Army Corps of Engineers in a Public Notice dated 3/15/2011, “THPRD is proposing to construct two multi-use athletic fields, a parking and maintenance lot, and a storm-water retaining bio-swale” on the site. The CORPS goes on to explain that the proposed development will involve filling and grading 1.32 acres of wetlands, 1.17 of which lie directly in the path of the two athletic fields. To mitigate for this impact THPRD “is requesting to purchase 1.32 acres of mitigation credits from the proposed Tualatin Valley Wetland Mitigation Bank (TVWMB) located in Hillsboro.”

There are actually two serious problems here. The first is that more than an acre of Fanno Creek’s wetlands are on the line. Never mind that they are highly degraded wetlands and crappy habitat; they remain wetlands and habitat nonetheless. On their worst day still provide more of a resource for the proper functioning of Fanno Creek than the fields and parking lots currently proposed for the site could ever offer, even if a well designed bioswale and/or retention pond becomes part of the plan. The second issue stems from the mitigation plan, which calls for THPRD to purchase credits from the TVWMB out in Hillsboro. That means any work done to reclaim, restore or otherwise enhance wetlands will take place well outside the Fanno Creek watershed. Taken together these two aspects of the planned development insure that Fanno Creek will be taking a significant hit.

Why is this an issue, one worthy of stirring up a fuss? To cut to the chase the creek simply can’t handle the loss of still more wetlands, crappy and degraded or otherwise. For the creek an acre of functionality – even limited functionality – is more critical than ever before. The developmental pressure on the Fanno Creek system of tributaries, floodplains and wetlands is enormous. The pressure comes from public and private interests alike and is strong enough that every year the actual footprint of the creek shrinks an appreciable amount. This is happening because where regulatory guidelines and statutes are concerned the exception to the rule IS the rule. Put another way, the creek is quite literally being negotiated to death. Those of us who live in the Fanno Creek watershed need to do something to halt and then reverse that process before the creek reaches a second tipping point, one that may be even more serious than the one it reached in the 1960’s.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

It’s easy to see how this happens. Developers, planners, even regulators tend to look at individual land use issues within a narrow context that is generally defined by the project itself, along with the regulations and processes involved in obtaining its permits. This narrow context extends to and through the jurisdictional realities involved. Accordingly what may be happening to Fanno Creek’s wetlands in Tigard or Portland or even in the rest of Beaverton won’t have much bearing on this particular situation.

Somewhere out there is another tipping point for the creek, another place in time and space when its functional integrity will become so degraded that once again radical steps will have to be taken to prop up the failing system. That’s happened before, back in the 1960’s when the creek became so polluted that locals called referred to it as “Draino Creek.” If and when such a thing happens again it will be driven by the fact that

 

In the 1960’s Fanno Creek reached and then passed a tipping point. In that decade it’s degraded state became such a liability that drastic action had to be taken. On that occasion the state shut down all development in the watershed. A measure of how drastic and serious that stepwas is the rate at which the public and private sector addressed the issue. somewhere out there is another tipping point for Fanno Creek, another place in space and time where its ability to function

 

 

In dozens of places it quite literally has its back against a wall. The developmental pressures on the creek and its system of tributaries, wetlands and flood plains are enormous and every day they seem to become more so. Increasingly these pressures come from public organizations as well as private ones. Each year acres of vital wetlands disappear from the Fanno Creek system and each year the overall integrity of the system’s floodplains is diminished as well.

 

This fundamental reality is recognized by the CORPS and every other organization involved in regulating our waterways and wetlands. Hence the need for THPRD “…to mitigate for the functions and values lost by permanently filling (these) wetlands…”

 

 

The land in question lies in one of the industrial parks that run down the western side of 217 in a nearly unbroken chain from Allen Boulevard to Greenburg Road. These parks sit on bottomlands that were once valued as farm land but over the years became more valuable as locations for transportation corridors and commerce. From an ecological perspective this three mile stretch of land is some of the most highly degraded property in the Fanno Creek watershed. Much of it has been reclaimed from the swampy wetlands and flood plains that dominated this area in pre-settlement days. By “reclaimed” I mean to say they were filled and then paved to serve as the foundation for a large array of roadways and buildings. The 7.5 acres slated for development into soccer fields somehow escaped a similar fate, but the site is highly degraded nonetheless and at first glance might seem hardly worth a fuss.

As I mentioned at the beginning of this post more than an acre of wetlands associated with Fanno Creek are on the line.Never mind that they are highly degraded wetlands and crappy habitat. The fact that they are so crappy and degraded should never be used as an argument to justify their demise.  And mitigate they so propose, but not on the site and not even in the same watershed. As a result 57,499 square feet of surface area that once contributed to Fanno Creek’s watershed’s water-cycle will be taken off the watershed map.

Somewhere out there, perhaps very much close at hand, is another tipping point for the creek; a day of reckoning similar in some ways to the one that occurred in the 1960, when all commercial and industrial development in the area was forced to grind to a halt because the creek had become more of a liability and a threat to the health and well being of the community than the asset it is today. If and when that happens again water quality will once again be the driving issue; but this time the cause will be more attributable to a fundamental lack of functioning wetlands and floodplains than it will be to gross pollution. Stormwater runoff will come roaring out of the watershed in even greater volumes and with even greater negative impact on the Tualatin and Willamette Rivers than ever before. The millions of dollars and the forty year long effort that have been invested in changing Draino Creek from an open sewer to something slowly approaching a viable ecosystem will have been lost.

It is crucial to recognize that even well intentioned construction projects such as bike paths, nature centers and sports fields can exact a heavy toll on wetlands and floodplain areas by removing functionality even when they do not remove drainage per se. And it is equally critical to recognize that when the opportunity presents itself we should be increasing, rather than decreasing the Fanno Creek System’s footprint. Hence the need to insist that if the project takes place at all, the mitigation it will require must take place within the Fanno Creek watershed.

Tree For All

 
Yesterday Buddy and I visited a section of Englewood Park that was the site of a 2008 Tree For All event.

If you want to be inspired by the decency of your fellow human beings and made to feel good about nature’s chances in an urban environment, then you want to participate in one of Carla Staedter’s Tree For All planting parties. Carla is the City of Tigard’s Public Services “Surface Water Quality and Volunteer Coordinator” and Tree For All has been her baby since the program began in 2005. I made one of these events in 2008, almost three years to the day. There must have been over a hundred folks at this event and maybe a dozen or more support personnel. It came off without a hitch, so far as I could tell, and made a huge impression on me. At the time I was feeling a little skeptical about Fanno Creek's future. Thanks to this experience - and several others like it - I came to understand that this poor, beat up creek still means a lot to the communities through which it flows. Sweat equity like this can really pay off.

Above a "before" photo of the Tree For All in progress. The area involved lies in Englewood Park in Tigard, just a few yards due west from the confluence of Heiton and Fanno Creeks. I went back yesterday to see how the area is coming along and was pleased to see that it is thriving.

Compare this 2008 photo with the one below. a shot I took yesterday from a nearly identical angle.

It won’t be long – maybe another three years at the most – before this peripheral wetlands will be as densely overgrown and healthy as the rest of the stream corridor that runs up the length of Fanno Creek in this part of Tigard. I’ll return later in the spring, when the willows, red osier dogwoods and “hard hack” (Spiraea douglasii) are fully leafed out. In the meantime a little reminder why any of this really matters: