Category Archives: Wildflowers

Monkeyflowers at Diamond Craters

September 17-18, 2023.

On our way to Steens Mountain, we made a last minute decision to pull off for the night at Diamond Craters Outstanding Natural Area. Most folks will never make it here once in their lifetime; this would be my third visit. It is remote, there are no services and it gets no press. But it truly is outstanding, and this visit it was unusually so.

As we drove past one of the first volcanic features, I had an “Aaron, stop the van!” moment. What at first looked like autumn red leaves on the ground turned out to be a superbloom of Nesom’s monkeyflowers: showy, bright, fuchsia blooms peppered throughout the cinder. It was a magnificent sight. I jumped out of the vehicle to get a closer look. While I was out there, I also noticed some delicate buckwheat flowers and the characteristic late summer bloomers: smoothstem blazing star.

Yes, we’d stay here.

Another surprise on our evening walk

Further up the road, we found a nice pullout with a hilltop view of the surrounding hills and craters. According to the BLM website, this designated area has the entire suite of basalt volcano features, such as spatter cones, lava tubes and maars. If you are curious enough to Google those things, you might want to schedule a trip to Diamond Craters to see them in person!

That evening, Aaron and I took a short stroll along a the road. We found thousands more flowers in bloom, and then…a flurry of activity. Hummingbird moths were busily zipping from flower to flower, feeding on the sugary nectar inside. I’d never seen so many of them at once! The pastel colors spreading across the dusky sky provided a beautiful backdrop for the scene unfolding in front of us. Sometimes the most memorable moments are unplanned.

Take a hike

The following morning, Aaron got to work and I took off on a hike. We were within a few miles of Malheur maar, a volcanic crater with a spring-fed pond inside. I made that my destination.

It would be another oppressively hot day, so I started walking right after breakfast. Along the road I saw some interesting flowers in bloom, which I later learned are introduced weeds. Nonetheless, I enjoyed looking at the delicate, translucent petals tucked between sharp points projecting from the stems. Apparently, some local butterflies appreciated the plants too.

I veered off the road at Twin Craters, following a use path along the east side of one of the twins, then bushwhacking around the northern perimeter to the other one. The whole time, I was very cognizant of the possibility of running into a rattlesnake like I’d done just a few days before. No snakes today.

On the other side of the craters, I stumbled across many other cool lava features, including deep cracks in the ground and what I like to call sourdough loaves. I think these are more properly called “tumuli,” but they look so much like the cracked tops of freshly baked loaves of bread that I can’t resist renaming them.

I wandered through the features, poking around anywhere that looked interesting, until I eventually made it to a lava balcony above Malheur maar. This location was incredible because here, out in this hot and dry expanse, I heard a cacophony of water-loving birds. I saw a ring of luscious green grass. I felt like I was transported into a new and unexpected landscape. The maar is quite small, but it creates its own riparian ecosystem surrounded by sagebrush and craggy volcanic rock.

It was a scene that asked to be painted. So, I sat there to paint. As I did so, the morning clouds began to part and make way for the blazing sun. The hike back was much hotter and sunnier than before. The bright light now glinted off of the many bottles and cans carelessly thrown from vehicles years, even decades, before. I collected them as I walked.

Another feature distracted me from my beeline to the van: an old wooden structure. I veered off the road to investigate, and even as I walked all around it, I couldn’t figure out what it was. It couldn’t be an entrance to a mine, out here? It was just lava for miles. And it couldn’t have been a bridge, because why? Perhaps a little encampment? Again, why here? The mysterious wood remnants brought me, however, to another magnificent patch of monkeyflower. I lingered for a few more moments to bask in their beauty before the sweaty hike back.

This brief stop reminded me of several things about travel. One: just because you’ve been somewhere once doesn’t mean you’ve checked that place off your list for good. You can have many different experiences in the same place, especially if you visit during a different season, with a different person, in different weather or with a different attitude. Two: it’s important to leave flexibility in your travel agenda. I had no plans to stop here. About twenty minutes from the road intersection, I just happened to notice it while scrolling around on my map and said “hey let’s stop at Diamond Craters tonight.” Three: the unexpected little things often bring more delight than the big, much anticipated ones. Seeing the purple wildflowers carpeting the desert in September shocked and amazed me. Then, when we saw all the moths flying around, I felt like I’d found myself in paradise.

I love the childlike sense of wonder that I often feel when we’re on the road. That’s one reason I think we’ll keep doing it beyond our initial timeline. We’re already about five months in, but it seems like we’re just getting started…

Steens Mountain wildflower hunt

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July 24 – July 31, 2023.

How many different wildflowers can you see?

Photo album

One of my must-see destinations for my cross-Oregon wildflower hunting trip was the Steens Mountain. Located in Southeast Oregon, the Steens is a unique fault-block mountain rising up from the expansive desert. It’s shaped like a wedge, gradually ascending from the west to a highpoint of nearly 10,000 feet. Then it drops abruptly in a series of craggy cliffs about 5,000 vertical feet to the Alvord desert. In most years, visitors can drive a loop road up from Frenchglen to the summit of the mountain and back, passing by multiple scenic viewpoints overlooking glacially carved canyons. And at the right time of year, you can marvel in an explosion of wildflowers, many of which grow nowhere else but there.

It was that time of year.

Unfortunately, a landslide and subsequent road work closed a portion of the loop road. We had to make a choice about which way to go. For me, it was a no-brainer; we drove the north side of the loop, which was open to the summit and several miles down the other side. That gave us the most opportunities for exploring, camping, hiking and hanging out.

Page Springs campground

Our trip began at the base of the mountain, elevation 4200″. We’d camped at Page Springs before, but only in the fall/winter. It’s a different experience in the summer. The heat of the late July sun was absolutely brutal. The only respite we had was the cold Blitzen River running along the edge of our campsite. At every chance we got, we plunged into the refreshing water.

Western clematis seed heads along the river trail

I attempted to take a hike along the river trail that emerges from the campground, but I ran into two problems: voracious mosquitoes and a trail long abandoned by the BLM. It’s too bad, because it has the potential to be a lovely place to walk. I’d hiked it back in 2013 and I even described it as brushy back then. Despite the challenges, I made it about a mile up before turning around. On the way I found some pretty flowers and even saw teasel (invasive but whatever) in bloom for the first time.

Iconic viewpoints

One nice thing about Steens Mountain is that it is an experience right from the car. You don’t even have to go on any massive hikes to have an enjoyable experience. Of course, if you are able to and want to go hiking I strongly recommend it!

Aaron and I pulled off at every signboard and marked viewpoint along the north loop road. We learned about history, geography, weather and more as we putt-putted along the drive. It became refreshingly cool as we ascended the road. I had to put some layers on as temperatures dipped into the mid-fifties at time. It was a far cry from the 90-degree weather we had down below.

Fields of yellow as seen from the loop road

With each gain in elevation, we got to see new and different wildflowers. Aaron’s favorite is the elk thistle. This unusual plant grows up to 6 1/2 feet tall, has long leaves covered in spines and produces bright purple flowers. It is one of the more aggro plants I’ve seen in the world.

My favorite is quite the opposite. It’s a subspecies of cushion buckwheat that is made of a low-growing mat of leaves, from which long stems protrude. Each stem is topped by a pink pom-pom looking thing that is a cluster of tiny flowers. Many of the plants lie prostrate, like they are resting. Others stand tall and look like they were invented by Jim Henson (the Muppet guy). They are cute and precious and I just want to stop and touch every one.

We saw both of these flowers growing right by the road and at our feet at the highest elevation pullouts. Other high mountain finds included silky phacelia, balloon-pod milk vetch, orange sneezeweed and the tiniest little lupine.

At the tops of each U-shaped valley, we tried to imagine a time where they were filled completely with ice. Over time, glaciers carved the incredible landscapes we see today. It fascinating to learn the geologic history of such a special place.

Freedom to roam

In my opinion, the best way to experience the Steens is on a cross-country adventure. And with such a wide-open landscape, this is easy to do. I did a few hikes on my own while Aaron worked. I plotted routes that led down into the canyons, across vast meadows, along stunning creeks and up to the rocky ridges. Despite the elevation, the days still got pretty hot so I tried to stay near water whenever possible.

I was impressed both by the number of different types of wildflowers as well as the overall volume of flowers. In places, the ground looked as if it was painted yellow or purple or a collage of colors, simply due to the density and number of plants in bloom at once. Any creeks or wet patches were easily identified because of the deep green adjacent to whatever was flowering there. In the span of a couple minutes, I could walk from a boggy swamp to a dusty, dry desert. And back again!

These pretty yellow paintbrush were everywhere.

It was on one of these excursions that I ran into my most unusual hiking find yet. Below the summit, on some random, rolling ridgeline lay what appeared to be a death mask. I didn’t have the heart to touch it or get too close but I took some photos and video of this object. People seem to think it was someone’s art project. I thought it was utterly creepy without any explanation next to it. Although I hike alone a ton, I’ve never felt as weirded out as I did at that moment. I hurried out of there to get back towards the road, which is when I discovered a little cliff. It took just a couple of rock climbing moves to get up over it, which made that find feel even more out of place. Whoever left that mask there really wanted to get to that spot.

What I wanted to see was bighorn, but no luck. That’s the thing with wandering around outdoors. You never can be quite sure what you’ll find.

Wildhorse Lake

Our friends Kevin and Casey joined us up in the Steens for the last few days of our visit. We took them to all the scenic pullouts as well as a couple of short hikes, including this one. If you’ve been up to the top of Steens Mountain, you’ve likely done this one too. It’s only 1.2 miles to walk to the lake, but it’s nearly 1000 vertical feet downhill. That’s a lot of climbing up to get back out to your car.

I was not going to waste the opportunity to get our packrafts in the lake, so I took my 60L pack and loaded both rafts, paddles, picnic supplies, art supplies as well as the usual ten essentials to make for a fun day. It was worth the effort. Once we found a nice spot on the lakeshore, we settled in for the afternoon. Aaron swam, Kevin read, Casey painted and I dreamed up a plan for rafting. A strong wind blew across the lake, which was not ideal for our flatwater boats. But I decided we’d hike to the opposite side of the lake, put in and let the wind blow us back to our beach. And that’s what we did. For an added bonus, the hanging meadows we saw from our put-in spot were astonishingly beautiful.

We had to stop many times on the hike up to catch our breath, which meant lots of time for wildflower watching! There were many varieties of paintbrush, buckwheat and penstemon. We also saw bog orchid, desert parsley, field chickweed, asters, thistle and a variety of GDYC‘s.

Steens summit

I visited the summit twice on this trip, once alone and once with Kevin. By far, the best native plant on this walk is the balloon-pod milkvetch. I’m usually not a big fan of the plants in the vetch family, but this one is a stand out. I’m not even sure what the flowers look like, but the seed pod it creates is so bizarre. Picture a hollow kidney bean that’s translucent yellow-green in color with mottled red spots. Now picture thousands of them covering the ground in clusters, dangling from vetchy leaves. When new, the pods are plump and squishy. When they dry out they become hard, detach from the plant and shatter as the wind blows them into surrounding rocks. This spreads the seeds and thus spreads the plant. What a weird, alien life form!

But this is not all there is to see on the Steens Mountain summit. Buckwheat grow in great profusion. Some form rather large mats with flowers embedded between the leaves, sprawling out like tentacles along the ground or spiking tall above the plant. Clumps of yellow composites, some with ray flowers and some without. In stark contrast, beautiful purple penstemon blooms nearby. All with the surreal backdrop of the vast Oregon desert.

Steens Mountain is one of Oregon’s treasures. Whether you visit for an hour, a day or a week; whether you hike, bike or drive; whether you know your wildflowers and geology or not, you will have a novel and beautiful experience there. Anyone who’s spent any time living in Oregon should make it a point to journey there. For tips on planning a trip, check out ONDA’s Steens Mountain region guide. Or, post your questions in the comments. I’ve visited several times in different seasons and I’ll likely go back and visit again!

Dixie Butte

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July 19, 2023

12 mi. | 2690′ ele. gain | 6 hr.

Photo album

Dixie Butte is home to one of the few remaining active fire lookouts in the state of Oregon. It’s also known for its summer wildflower displays. Despite there being a road to the top, I decided to walk up the road and make it a day hike.

I left early in the morning, knowing it was going to be another hot day. I appreciated all the shade that the trees alongside the road provided. It didn’t take long to get most of the way up the road. There weren’t many wildflower distractions until I was about a mile and a half from the summit. Once I reached the blooming meadows, I could barely take a step without stopping to squat and take another photo. The flowers were gorgeous. Some of my old favorites colored the hillside along with new friends.

One particular flower caught my eye: the beautiful pink, trumpet-shaped blooms of slendertube skyrocket. I’d first spotted this wildflower last year in the Wallowas, at the end of a long day. I was delirious with dehydration and fatigue. Yet, it stopped me in my tracks. It was one of the prettiest, most delicate plant I’d seen in the alpine. I was delighted to see it again.

As I got closer to the lookout tower, I heard a dog barking. Lovely, I thought. Being allergic to dogs, I’m used to people yelling “(s)he’s friendly!” My two least favorite words. Friendly dogs get all up in your business, licking you, rubbing their noses in inappropriate places and generally being a nuisance. So I dreaded the all-too-familiar conversation where I’d have to explain that I’m allergic and to get your damn dog away from me.

But before that, I had to walk a loop around the lookout. I wanted to spend more time with my flowers before getting into it with the dog owner.

As the road crested up to a high shoulder and then curved back towards the lookout, I passed through a blanket of subtly colored flowers. Alpine knotweed, green-flowering paintbrush, coiled lousewort. Most of what I could see was a field bursting with greenery.

I paused at a rock outcrop to enjoy the view and to look for wildflowers that preferred that exposed, rocky habitat. Here were lanceleaf stonecrop, bush penstemon and wild buckwheat. Plus long, blue ridges as far as the eye could see.

Eventually I had to approach the lookout. As I did, the dog charged towards me as predicted and I stopped short, pretending to look around and catch my breath. The person working as the lookout stepped outside and asked if I had enough water, to which I responded yes. She invited me closer and that’s when I told her about the dog. She immediately called her dog in, which I appreciated, and we had a nice long chat.

On the way down, I made a lollipop loop by walking along the adjacent ridge top. I wanted to do some painting while also giving the lookout some privacy. So, I found an equally awesome rock outcrop bursting with wildflowers and sat there for an hour.

The ridge naturally drew me back downhill to the road, but not before leading me through gorgeous meadows dotted with white mariposa lily, sage and abundant colorful wildflowers. The sun had really kicked in by this point and I was grateful that it was all downhill from there.

Although the return hike took me back the exact same road I hiked up, I saw so many flowers that I didn’t notice in the morning. My eyes had been primed for the native wildflowers of this area, and now they were seemingly everywhere. Their accompanying pollinators, notably butterflies, also dominated the previously hum-drum landscape. It was a joyous romp downhill.

Since the sun was basically overhead, I lost my long stretches of shade and took any opportunity to stop and rest in a shade patch I could. By the time I got back to the van, I was nearly out of water. I spent a good chunk of the afternoon resting in my hammock in a cluster of trees.

Mt. Ashland to Wagner Butte

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July 5, 2023.

15.2 mi | 4012′ ele. gain | 8 hr.

Photo album

I wanted to do a big hike along the Siskiyou Crest while we were in the area. It appeared that I could hike from the Mt. Ashland parking lot up the east side of Mt. Ashland, down the west side, follow NF-20 to the Split Rock trail all the way to Wagner Butte and back. I didn’t calculate the miles because I knew it would be longer than I wanted it to be, but that I’d go anyway. So, on this warm July morning I gave it a go.

Mt. Ashland

The trail up Mt. Ashland gets right to the point. It is short and steep and breathtaking (in the literal and figurative sense). I took many breaks to look for wildflowers and observe the absurdity of being on a ski hill off season. All the lifts and machinery and such. At the top, I found a building in the shape of a giant soccer ball and a bunch of other structures. I found the summit marker, took a short break and then began down the road on the other side.

While I saw a ton of wildflowers on the hike up, I didn’t find much that was new or unusual. After reading so much online on the special flora that exists on Mt. Ashland, I was a little disappointed. But I would make a complete change of attitude on my road walk off the mountain. Almost immediately, I noticed something only familiar from the images I studied online the night before: Henderson’s horkelia! I audibly squealed, then dropped into my wildflower squat and took a bunch of photos. I touched its fuzzy leaves and searched for a “good” looking flower. They all seemed a little roughed up or withered. I wasn’t sure if that was just their look or if they were going out of season.

The rest of the road down was a cornucopia of flowers, shrubs, rocks and birds. Something to look at around every corner. While I generally try and avoid road walks, this one was rather pleasant.

Split Rock Trail

From the base of the Mt. Ashland service road, I needed to make my way to the Split Rock Trail. This required a bit more road walking, although I short-cutted one big switchback by tromping straight up a hill in the forest. Near the trailhead, I encountered my first snow patch of the day and made a mental note for later. It wasn’t hot yet, but I knew it was coming.

I loved hiking the Split Rock Trail. It traversed on or adjacent to a beautiful ridgeline, with the occasional steep up or down segment. I walked through meadows, rocky outcrops, shady forests and sagebrush desert. As the environment changed, so did the flora. Wildflowers were profuse and diverse along the trail. And the butterflies! So many butterflies flitted and swirled around me, hardly stopping for a second before heading to their next destination.

Along the way, I took short detours to the summits of McDonald Peak and Split Rock. The last item on my agenda was Wagner Butte. On my map, a trail went to “Wagner Butte Lookout” but not the butte itself. I decided I’d hit both of those. At the time I had no idea that the lookout was anything more than a nice viewpoint. But I figured if a trail went there, then it must be worth checking out.

Wagner Butte and Lookout

Weighing my options, I decided to cruise the trail to the lookout first, then walk the ridge back to the true summit and then return to the trail. By this point, it had gotten very hot and I appreciated every moment I got to spend in the shade.

Near the end of the trail, I found myself scrambling up huge granite boulders towards what appeared to be a handrail. At the top, it all made sense. It’s an old lookout site! A very faded sign shared the site’s history, and what a fabulous viewpoint it was. An old ammo canister contained a sign-in book, and it was filled with names from people visiting just this year. I’m glad I didn’t go on a weekend! I was the only one on top at that moment. With not a shade tree in sight, the direct sun completely zapped my energy. I sat down for a few minutes, but quickly got back up. I still had to bushwhack to the summit and hike many miles back to the van. At this point, I was 10 miles into my dayhike.

Lots of stonecrop. Stonecrop loves sunny outcrops.

On the map, it looked straightforward. How many times have I made that mistake…

I walked back down the trail to a point where I could easily gain a saddle on the north ridge of Wagner Butte. Then, I pushed through forest debris. First it was chinkapin, then snowbrush, then manzanita. The trifecta. Plus, there were tons of downed trees, piles of huge boulders and tangles of thick vegetation. When I finally made it to the summit area, there were three major pinnacles, of which any one could be the true summit. In order to make sure I got the right one, I made my way to the top of each one, then retreated to the pile that offered the best lunch rest stop. I was really hungry and very hot by this time.

I sat down and ate my lunch in a state of delirium. Out of nowhere, a bright green caterpillar appeared on my leg. Or was it a delusion? Nope, I’ve got video to prove it.

The return

Re-fueled and ready to get out of the sun, I began thrashing through shrubs again to get back to the trail. At least it’s easier to push through manzanita on the way down than it is on the way up.

Back on trail, I moved at a comfortable pace and made sure to pause at every shade stop after a sunny stretch. My body felt so hot. I sipped on my water regularly and calculated how long it would take me to get back to the snow patch. Back on Wagner Lookout, I’d messaged Aaron a pickup location that would save me a few miles of hot, exposed road walk to get back to the van. So, I also had that to look forward to.

All my shade stops turned into flower and bug-watching stops, too. I sat in one meadow, mesmerized by the bees buzzing around a particularly stunning monument plant. It was better than any Netflix documentary I’d ever seen. A good reminder that stopping can be good for a number of reasons, but one is certainly that I see so much more cool stuff when I sit in place for a while.

The highlight of the hike back was reaching the snow patch. I threw off my pack, turned around and laid down flat on the snow. How refreshing! I stuffed my pants pockets full of snow, put a snowball under my hat and filled my water bladder with snow: I had plans for that later. With fresh energy, I finished my hike back to the van.

Cool down

Aaron had the AC running in the van, which felt so luxurious. I stripped off my sweaty clothes, filled a mug with snow and poured cold tea over the top. Iced tea in the AC! It was a fabulous way to finish off a hot summer hike.

Compared to the dozens of people I’d seen on the PCT section we hiked the day before, this place was completely deserted. I saw one person near the Wagner Butte Lookout and one person near the Split Rock trailhead as I was finishing up. For the rest of the day I got to hike in quiet solitude. Those big-name trails attract people like bugs to a nightlight, but the less well-known trails are no less worthy of a visit. If you like to hike alone, skip the things you’ve heard of and venture onto a neighboring trail. You’ll get all the wildflowers and views and natural beauty without the crowds and noise.

How to plan a wildflower hike

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The famed balsamroot bloom on Dog Mountain

Got wildflowers? I’ve spent the bulk of the last three months chasing wildflower blooms across Oregon, and I’d like to share some things I’ve learned about how to plan a wildflower hike.

Timing is everything

Flowers are in bloom for a specific time period each year. Some kind of wildflower is generally blooming somewhere between early spring and early fall. But if you’re looking to see a specific type of wildflower then you’ve really got to get the timing right. So, if I want to see the lupine blooming on the rim of Crater Lake, I’ve got to go in the middle of summer. Or if I want to catch the western pasqueflower before it goes to seed, I’ve got to hit some mountain slopes just as the snow is melting.

For most people, just seeing any splashes of color along the trail is just fine. And the good news is, there’s no “best time” to see a wildflower bloom if you’re not particular about what you see. There are always the early bloomers, mid-season bloomers and late bloomers. Some wildflowers are only open for a few days and others will go on and on. Consider the climate where you’re looking to visit and that will give you a good sense of when to see the best flowers. For example, spring is best in the desert since it gets very hot and dry during the summer. But summer is ideal in the mountains because the ground will still be snow-covered in spring. Or, search on the internet or on social media to see where people are going and what they’re seeing on the trail.

Here’s a tip for social media research: join a local wildflower group or follow the land management agency for the area you intend to visit. There, you’ll see what’s blooming and where and you might learn about upcoming guided flower walks or nature presentations to fuel your wildflower stoke.

Diversify your habitats

If you’re looking to see a wide variety of flowers, choose a trail or route that travels through different types of habitats. So for example, if your trail follows a stream, crosses a meadow, climbs up along some exposed rocks then travels to the base of a mountain, you’re going to see different things blooming in each of those specific areas.

Notice that some plants prefer full shade, some like dappled sun filtered through the trees, others grow in the blasting sun. Notice that east facing slopes often display different plants than west facing slopes. The more you hike, the more you’ll recognize the factors that determine which flowers grow where. You’ll learn about what to expect when you head outside and you’ll be more likely to find it when you know what you’re looking for.

Elevation matters

Similarly, if your trail includes a significant amount of elevation gain, you’ll see a greater variety of wildflowers. When I’m huffing and puffing up a trail that climbs up a mountain, I think of it as traveling back in time. Since snow melt begins at lower elevations and gradually makes it up the mountain, you’ll see later season blooms at the base of the trail and earlier season blooms closer to the recent snow melt! That’s how you can continue to see early bloomers like trillium well into July; you just need to go up high to find them.

Stop and smell the roses (duh)

When you’re out on a wildflower hike, give yourself enough time to stop and see what you are after! This should go without saying, but if you really want to see a lot of flowers, you’re going to need to spend some time moving slowly, investigating spots that look interesting, crouching down to find the little guys and taking lots of pictures.

Notice how when you stop to have a snack or take a bathroom break that you suddenly begin to see more flowers. Take a seat every now and again, and look around. Things will appear to you that you would have overlooked while in motion.

You might even build time in to flip through a guidebook or scroll through a plant identification app to learn about what you’re seeing in the field. There are many quality and free apps available to download to your phone so you don’t have to carry a book on your hike. My favorite for Oregon is simply called Oregon Wildflower Search and I’ve found similar apps for several states. Just search for “state name” + “wildflower search” in the app store. Steer clear of the ones where you take a picture and ask the app to ID it; they are notoriously inaccurate…at least for now!

Leave no trace

Finally, remember to leave no trace. That means staying on trail in popular areas instead of trampling wildflower meadows to get a sweet pic. Look at, but don’t pick, flowers. Instead, take photos, sketch or paint them! Plan ahead and prepare for the conditions the day of your hike by carrying appropriate gear, wearing appropriate clothing and researching your route. For more information on Leave No Trace, check out the series I wrote on my Hike366 blog.

Questions? Leave a comment below. Happy trails!

Zumwalt Prairie

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June 25, 2023.

Photo album

Zumwalt Prairie had been on my to-visit list since watching an Oregon Field Guide episode about it many years ago. But, it’s a very long ways from anywhere and there aren’t any mountains on it. So, it fell pretty far down in my priorities. But this year’s project, to see as many different wildflowers across Oregon as possible, brought Zumwalt to my attention. The Zumwalt Prairie Preserve, managed by the Nature Conservancy, is designated a National Natural Landmark. It is known for its spectacular plant diversity, outstanding elk habitat and intactness as an ecosystem. We had seen several elk as we drove through several days earlier and were excited to spend more time on the ground to discover what else called this place home.

Horned Lark Trail

1.9 mi | 290′ ele. gain | 1:20 hr.

HIking on the preserve is limited to official trails only, so we began our tour on the Horned Lark Trail. The cool morning air made for a pleasant walk. Dewdrops hanging on all the tall plants and grasses dripped down our legs as we walked. We wore shorts and sandals in anticipation of this!

Immediately, we were taken by all the birds we heard and saw. We pulled out our phones to use the “Sound ID” feature on Merlin. Western meadowlark. Savannah sparrow. Red-winged blackbird. Song sparrow. Wilson’s snipe. Just to name a few. The trail descended through dense grassland and mostly spent wildflowers to a pond teeming with life. Birds squawked, sang, chirped, chipped, called and warbled all around us. Waterfowl paddled around the water’s surface. Blackbirds balanced on the tops of reeds. Raptors soared overhead. And then, the insects. To me, insects represent a gaping black hole in my knowledge. I can distinguish a small handful of critters, but mostly when I get a good look at a bug I think, “wow, I’ve never seen THAT before?!”

We used the zoom feature on our phones like binoculars, trying to get closer views of all the things hurtling through the air. It was like a zoo but better; all of the animals were free.

I was neither surprised nor disappointed that most of the wildflower bloom was over. Instead, I was thrilled by the millions of funny looking seed heads filling the fields. Call them old man’s whiskers or prairie smoke, one of the funkiest little wildflowers dominated the landscape during our visit. Each individual tuft of fluffy seed hairs was a unique spectacle. I wanted to photograph each one. But alas! We had other places to go. As we hiked back out of the depression in the field, we noted some white mariposa lilies, yarrow and Mexican bedstraw.

Patti’s Trail

2.6 mi. | 160′ ele. gain | 1:15 hr

We continued up the road towards the main visitor information station, which also serves as the trailhead for Patti’s Trail. In the parking lot, Aaron opened up the hood to check the oil and noticed that a rodent family had built a nest in the engine. The industrious critters used not only the local grasses but also our van insulation. Hooray. Another mouse problem.

On that annoying note, we took off on another little walk. The beginning was underwhelming compared to the previous trail, but after climbing over the first fence, things got more interesting. First of all, in order to climb the fences, we used these built-in stepladders that made the job much easier. Once on the other side, we were greeted by colorful buckwheat flowers, purple asters and something we hadn’t seen yet. Clematis seed heads. These frizzy creatures resemble the prairie smoke we’d seen innumerable times before, but the strands of fuzz are a little longer, less dense and they tend to hang down from the stem. I had to stop and examine them for a while to be sure I’d found something new.

The temperature rose as we ambled along the trail. It eventually ran along a little creek and some riparian shrubbery. We poked at white-stem frasera, paintbrush, cinquefoil , lupine and stonecrop. Birds kept swooping and buzzing overhead. It was quiet and peaceful.

By the time we returned to the car, it was hot and we were hungry, so we decided to eat lunch at the van, then go into town for a lazy afternoon. If I were to visit the Zumwalt again, I’d go in late spring to catch more of the wildflower show. And I’d also want to visit in the dead of winter with cross country skis! One visit to a place is never enough.

Buckhorn Lookout to Eureka Point

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June 23-24, 2023.

10.4 mi | 2225′ ele. gain | 6:45 hr.

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Far, far up in the northeast corner of Oregon lies an old, boarded up fire lookout called Buckhorn Lookout. It’s only about an hour’s drive from Joseph, but the little mountain town of Joseph is many miles away from most places. Based on the write up in Matt Reeder’s Extraordinary Oregon, I decided to put this on the list of places to visit while wildflower touring around Oregon.

We arrived just before sunset and took in the incredible light show in the sky from the lookout viewpoint. The van looked particularly majestic in this colorful skyscape. The lookout itself is perched atop a remarkable canyon rivaling the Grand Canyon. But here we were, in Oregon, enjoying a quiet and peaceful vista worthy enough to be in a National Park.

Eureka Point hike

In the morning, I pointed my GPS towards Eureka Point. I began my walk from Eureka Lookout, following rough dirt roads, to the official trailhead for this hike. I think this is actually the better place to begin the hike, especially during wildflower season. I walked past so many vibrant patches of flowers, including buckwheat, mule’s ears, larkspur and geranium. It was a very scenic road walk that was about to get even more scenic.

The route follows an old road, so the tread is wide and generally pretty gradual as it descends into the Imnaha Canyon. Bees and butterflies buzzed and flitted among the plethora of perky blooms. A cool breeze blew up from the canyon below; I knew it wouldn’t last, so I enjoyed it while I could. Along the road, I passed through shady clumps of trees, wide open meadows, rock gardens. It became notably drier and dustier the further I went. It amazes me how hiking a trail with significant elevation gain is like time travel; what’s in peak bloom at the top is long gone at the bottom, and vice versa. I traveled through spring to early summer to late summer all in the course of a few hours.

The last third of the hike was extremely hot, brown and desperate looking. I debated whether it was worth going to the end point noted in the book or whether my time would be better spent prancing through the wildflower meadows back towards the lookout. But I was so close, and I thrive on hitting known targets, so I carried on.

Despite the book describing an actual route to this slightly-off-trail viewpoint, I made my own way out there (mostly because I’d forgotten this narrative existed). I climbed over a barbed wire fence, poked around at a few overlooks, then almost get poked back: prickly pear cactus! It was of course, too late to see them in flower, but I was still excited to find a new-to-me patch of cactus in Oregon!

It was very windy up there. I found the most reasonable spot to sit, eat lunch and paint. I couldn’t imagine ever being back in that area again, so I really wanted to savor my time there. Painting has given me a good reason to sit and enjoy a space. To really see a space. And to notice just how much I don’t see when I’m in motion. I still can’t believe how much time I’ve wasted trying to move as quickly as I could through a landscape. And just how much I’ve missed.

On my way back, I stumbled into the route Matt described, which was a totally normal and reasonable way to go. Of course. The walk back was hot, hot, hot. The sun’s position in the sky meant far fewer opportunities for shade, so I stopped at every chance I got. One really nice shady spot was already occupied by a really angry robin, who screeched at me incessantly until I got up and moved. I hoped that I’d brought enough water (I did).

On the way back, I watched the clouds drift across the sky. I noticed the palette of colors sprayed across each hillside. I marveled at the history carved into distant canyon walls. The landscape had so many stories to tell, if only one took the time to stop and listen.

We’d spend another couple nights at the viewpoint, since it was such a special place. Worth a visit for anyone who calls Oregon home for a day, a year, a lifetime.

Phillips Lake circumnavigation by bike

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June 12, 2023.

16.7 mi. | 650′ ele. gain | 3 hr

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From our basecamp at the beautiful Southwest Shore Campground on Phillips Lake, I planned a ride that would connect the trails on the south side and the north side. It looked like just a couple short roads would let me make a full loop. And you know, I love a good loop…

South shore

The morning air was cool and clear, but I knew thunderstorms were on the way. I got an early start by riding towards the trailhead on the east end of the campground road. I immediately got disoriented. An obvious, but overgrown, road led right down into the lake. That wasn’t right. I poked around at the edge of the marshy grass. I looked at the map on my phone, which showed me as being in the lake. That wasn’t right either. Back in the parking area, I looked around for signage and sure enough, I had to wiggle through a narrow gap in the fence and take a sharp switchback to get onto a barely discernable single-track trail. Here we go.

Once on the trail, I was in heaven. The tread was narrow, lined closely by tall, wet marsh grass. My legs dripped with the morning dew. Wooden boardwalks crossed the wettest areas as the trail snaked along the undulating edges of the water. I felt like I was tracing the outline of an amoeba.

There were a few gentle ups and downs, but they weren’t too bad. I stopped several times to look at the wildflowers and the ever-changing view of the lake.

The South Shoreline Trail terminates at the Mason Dam. This dam is the whole reason this lake exists; it blocks the flow of the Powder River so that the water can be managed for irrigation as well as flood control. It is quite an impressive structure. As I munched on a snack, I tilted my head up towards the highway above me. Oh no, I thought, that’s my connection to the other trail. It was time to get ready for a hill climb.

I rode across the dam, up a gravel road to the main highway, then turned left to ride on the highway. Thankfully, only one vehicle passed during this time and the driver moved well out of the way to give me some room. Since there was no shoulder, I much appreciated this kindness.

North shore

From the road, I dropped down a steep, paved hill towards a boat launch. There, I picked up the North Shoreline Trail. This side was drier, with a bumpy paved section through a massive campground. And all my mountain views were gone. But, I enjoyed seeing some new wildflowers and getting to look back at where I just was. The sun felt hotter now, and there was less shade to boot. I took a few more rest breaks.

At the west end of the lake, things suddenly got more interesting. Suddenly there were birds. Lots of birds. I had made some recordings of sandhill cranes from camp the previous night, so I knew they had to be in here somewhere. I stopped riding and walked slowly, intentionally, along the edge of the water. And there they were, a pair!

Since the initial confusion at the very start of the ride, the entire trail was easy to navigate. But here, the trail dropped down to what looked like an old road, then entered a maze of wetlands. Again, I looked at my map and I appeared to be underwater.

The only directional signs I could find were located in places where it was quite clear where the route went, of course. At one point, I got off my bike and walked in each cardinal direction to assess my options. I was on the edge of what the map labeled “Powder River Tailings.” These are piles of rocks left behind by old gold dredging operations that took place on the Powder River. From my perspective, I was trapped in a web of loose rubble, lake water and thick riparian shrubbery with nowhere to go than back the way I came.

When I feel this way, I give myself a few minutes of rest. Obviously I wasn’t stuck. There was a way out, I just couldn’t see it yet. Maybe the water was a little higher than normal, as it seemed to have been for this entire trip so far. My route was hiding at the moment, and it was my job to seek it out. I looked at the map, then I looked all around. I eliminated the ways that were absolutely not possible, then I began to get more clear about what could be possible. Exasperated, I took my shoes off and was prepared to wade through however much water I needed to find my way. And then, there it was.

Two lines of rock on either side of a TRAIL! I picked up my bike and walked through the shin-deep water to a dry patch on the other side. The trail continued to reveal itself ahead of me, with breaks in the vegetation and rocks piled in cairns on top of the tailings. What an adventure this had become!

I made my way through the final gauntlet, popped back out on to a road and followed that to the turnoff for our campsite. I was almost finished. One final stretch of trail took me back to the van and I completed the circumnavigation of the lake.

This ride took me three hours, although I’m sure if you’re a more competent biker who doesn’t stop to look at every wildflower, you could do it faster. And if you really like to take it easy and enjoy your time, you could spend all day out here. If you’ve only got time to do one section, I recommend the South Shoreline. I found it more scenic, with more interesting variety of terrain and plenty of shade. Although, you’ll miss the wetlands, which were quite magical.

Logan Valley in bloom

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June 6-9, 2023.

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I had a date in Logan Valley to meet up with ONDA, the Oregon Natural Desert Association, to work on a fence-raising project. Aaron and I drove down to the Big Creek Campground, on the Malheur National Forest, a night in advance. We arrived shortly before sunset.

Sunset wildflowers

Day transitioned to evening with a dramatic display of purples, oranges and pinks. In addition, the bloomiferous (is that a word?) meadow sparkled beneath the sky. We frolicked through the meadow. Blissed out, we returned to camp, where our neighbor ran a generator all night. This is why we don’t stay in campgrounds.

Easy rider

The next morning, generator still running, we moved the van up the road so Aaron could work. I hopped on my bike and followed “Big Creek Loop B,” one of three beginner biking routes posted at the campground. It wasn’t much to write home about, but it provided an opportunity to stretch my legs and get a feel for the landscape. I was just excited that anyone had bothered to map out an easy route for beginner riders like me.

Fence-raising

Later that evening, we drove up the road to Burns-Paiute managed land, where we met up with the volunteer crew. As expected, it consisted of a team leader from ONDA and a bunch of retired folks. One younger guy joined us later that night. I can only hope I’ll still be signing up to do physical labor when I’m in my 70’s! I figure the best way to do that is to keep doing it now.

In the morning, we split up into two work crews and began putting up a “let-down fence,” a barbed wire fence designed to be put up part of the year and taken down for the rest of the year. Since cattle were going to be grazing the neighboring property soon, we needed to help put this fence up. The cows would easily trample and destroy the beautiful riparian area on the other side of the fence. The Burns-Paiute were working on restoring the creek for more beaver and fish activity. Cattle don’t mix well with that plan.

It rained and rained as we methodically leap-frogged each other along the fence, raising the wooden posts and securing them against metal beams with loops of wire. It’s tricky work being around so much barbed wire, especially while wearing rain gear that’s easily snagged and torn. My outdoor gear is great for recreating in bad weather, but not for working in bad weather. If I do much more of this, I might need to go shopping.

While driving back to the camp, we saw lots of beautiful splotches of blooming flowers. At one point, we stopped the car to investigate some wildlife. “Do you see that?!” the driver practically squealed. I said, “a deer?” kind of incredulously. Like, why did we stop the car for a deer? But as I panned to the right, I saw two giant wading birds that looked like they belonged in a zoo. I had absolutely no idea what they were. The driver informed us we were seeing a pair of sandhill cranes. She had suspected they were here the previous evening, based on a sound identification from Merlin.

A sidebar: the Merlin app has a sound ID option where you can make a recording of a bird and the app will identify it in real time. It’s surprisingly fast and accurate. We have since become obsessed with using it to identify any squeak. song, rattle, trill or screech.

We finished with lots of time to spare, so in the afternoon I took a walk back up the road to investigate a beautiful patch of purple blur I noticed while driving. Elephant-head lousewort! Plus, some more exquisitely colored paintbrush. This place was a dream.

The next day was a repeat of the first, except the stretch of fence we worked on was a but more cantankerous. There were segments that required tensioning with a specialized fence tool in order to get up. Tangles of barbed wire, missing loops and swampy stretches were among the many obstacles we faced. And that’s not including the soaking rain.

Fortunately we finished earlier than expected, again, and returned by lunch time. In the afternoon I took a short walk with one of the biologists as he walked the property checking bird boxes for eggs. We found several nesting tree swallows and one bluebird. He used a device that looked like a camera at the end of a long cord. On the far side, it was attached to a screen the size of a cell phone. He’d snake the camera into the box and then look at the display to see what was inside. I was enthralled.

Take aways

I signed up for this trip for a few reasons. One, I really wanted to make service a part of our travels. The stereotypical travel story is one of extraction and exploitation. I did not want to make that our story. Instead, I wanted to be engaged in the communities and wild spaces we spend time in.

Second, I’d never even heard of Logan Valley before seeing it on ONDA’s trip list. A place in Oregon that was off my radar? I had to go.

And lastly, I want to learn some new skills as I have this precious opportunity to be unemployed for a while. It was soon very clear that the old-timers in my group were far more capable with hand tools and fence work in general than me. The tools felt clumsy in my hand and it took me longer to solve problems than it did for them. So obviously, I just need to spend more time building stuff and working with my hands in this way. They were all very kind and easy to partner with, so I never felt incompetent or unappreciated. I enjoyed working as part of a team and learning to be patient with myself as I figured it all out.

Whatever I do, I often feel like I get more than I give, even when the purpose is giving. What I got was: new friendships, skill building, bird education, wildflower education, resource management education, great food, smiles and laughter. What I gave? A few hours of labor towards a project. I am grateful for the folks who spend their time coordinating these opportunities and managing volunteers. This experience has made me even more curious about what else I can get my hands into. I’ve already signed up for a fall trip with ONDA, and I’m constantly looking for other ways to give back.

Rabbit Hills

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June 2, 2023.

11 mi bike | 8.5 mi hike | 2600′ ele. gain | 7.25 hr.

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I rarely share details on my cross country routes, but due to the remoteness of this area, extremely low probability of anyone repeating it and the likelihood that no one’s ever Googled “Rabbit Hills” with the intention of locating this area in Oregon, here we go.

Another day, another bike ride

It would be our last day in Camp Hart and I wanted to see as many more wildflowers as I could before leaving this magical place. I hopped on my bike and rode 11 miles of gravel road to the base of the Rabbit Hills. I only found this area because I spent the last few days zooming in on the map at any high point within biking distance of our camp. From afar, it looked like a cluster of boring, barren lumps on the landscape.

The highpoint

I left my bike behind a lone, scraggly sagebrush and began walking across a cheatgrass-covered field towards a break in the slope ahead. The occasional deep purple larkspur poked up between the nodding stalks of grass. As I climbed up the wash, I noticed that any depression in the landscape was choked in tumbleweed. Cow pies littered the ground. It was definitely not my best pick of the week.

But, I had a highpoint to find, so I kept going. I found some large, sun-bleached cow vertebrae. An animal leg with some fur still left on it. Clumps of milkvetch. Buckwheat. A pronghorn raced along the horizon. Okay, I thought, this is getting more interesting.

A cold breeze blew as I crested up to the top of a rocky pile. I looked across a small saddle towards my summit. Based on zillions of trips like this, I knew it looked farther away than it actually was. I took a sip of water and wandered downhill to start the next uphill section. At the bottom of the hillside, I found thousands of reddish bitterroot buds, just waiting for their chance to burst open into beautiful blooms. Plus lots of phlox and buckwheat. I rolled under a barbed wire fence, giddy to find out what else these hills had in store for me today.

My progress screeched to a halt as I found myself in wildflower heaven. Joining the previous lineup was paintbrush. Brilliant red, orange, peach and so many delicate combinations of shades. And every time I thought, it can’t get any better, it did. As I crested the final flat spot before the summit, I found myself in a wildflower garden to rival any I’d seen before. HOW could I keep feeling this deep sense of awe so many times in one week?

At the summit, I pulled out my map, looked around and concocted a plan for what to do next. I’d already given Aaron my pickup point, just not a time. Originally, I thought this would be a quick hike. But once I got out here, I knew I needed time to explore. Across a valley, I noticed an abrupt change in the rock color and type. From there, I could string together all the highpoints on the horseshoe-shaped ridge. I had a plan.

Up and down

I wanted to race down off the highpoint so I could get to the next part, but the rocky hillside with all its grass clumps and holes and dips and sagebrush branches wouldn’t let me. I carefully made my way down so as to not break an ankle, salivating over what cool discoveries I was sure to make on the next section.

Nothing could have prepared me for the profusion of wildflowers I’d find. The number of different species was quite low, but the volume of flowers couldn’t be beat. The largest threadleaf phacelia plants I’d ever seen, with numerous stalks of cheery, purple blooms. Vibrant clusters of paintbrush in even more colors than I’d seen before. Bouncy buckwheat flower heads sticking their necks out as if to compete with the flashier wildflowers. And bitterroot, now with their petals open to the sun. And some with green buds instead of the familiar red. What a treat.

The rock on this hill was so interesting. It was a lighter color, practically white, providing a different color contrast to the vegetation. As I continued along the rolling ridge, the rock became red and then black. The piles of red boulders in the middle section reminded me of places I’d explored in the southwest. Such a diversity of experiences in one short hike.

As I gleefully ascended the last bump to complete the traverse, I saw a familiar sight: a pronghorn. I saw its pointy head rise up above the rocks at the summit, followed by its body…it began coming down the hill in my direction. NOT AGAIN.

With my eyes looking over my shoulder, I slowly descended a bit down the hill. It kept tracking me. This one had big antlers, too. We played this game for several minutes. I’d walk downhill, stop and turn around. He’d continue downhill in my exact direction. And, repeat. Ultimately I determined that this summit was off-limits for this hike, and I began quickly and decisively descending towards the valley bottom. I needed this animal to know that I was not a threat. It was his home, anyways, so if he didn’t want me there then I had to leave.

As I tromped through the beautiful field, I looked towards the road and noticed the van. I had an easy spot to walk back to, but I wasn’t ready to be done yet. So, I found a little bump with a nice view of the surrounding hills where I could sit and paint. I enjoyed watching the shadows of the clouds pass over the landscape and tried to replicate that feeling in my painting. Was it a success? Who knows. But every time I take time to paint, I learn new things.

The walk back was hot and boring, but I was still riding high from the day’s delights. I can never tell what the experience will be by just looking at the topo map and satellite views. However, that’s part of the fun for me. It’s a bit of a treasure hunt with every un-tested hike. Despite a lackluster beginning, this one lives in my top ten list for sure.