A Botanical Framework for an Oregon Journey - May 2007

Roadside Attractions OR Coast Prehistoric Sights California Illinois Valley		California Impresses FINALLY!  California here we come!. But first, we had to stop and put a foot in the Pacific Ocean. Just before Brookings and its sister community of Harbor, is Lone Ranch Beach. The rocks and tide pools here are terrific. The tide wasn’t quite right for superior tide-pooling, but we did happen upon a nice little clutch of starfish. (I made the name up. Collective nouns are fun in English, but originally based on hunting and husbandry terms, so mostly mammals and birds. Here’s a pretty good list. I picked this one because I figured the Brits were more likely to get it right.) Jeffi and Sheila also saw what they thought to be a weasel (only one, not a whole sneak), but after some research, we decided it was an otter (only one, not a whole romp). There might have been an opportunity for another botanical feature in this area, but it’s not quite time for dahlias. They grow wonderful ones here, though, later in the summer. There also were some nice wild flowers, but not enough for their own interlude, just a photo. THEN we crossed into California; the shore is not so rocky and there are fields of row crops, cattle and sheep for a few miles. We drove through  Crescent City, stopped at the  Ranger Office for maps and advice and then on to Stout Grove to see the redwoods. I've written about it before, not very articulately, and I'm no better this time. It’s just an all-around amazing experience. A few more photos. I hope each of you has a chance to go there some day. Our next two nights were spent at Patrick Creek Lodge & Historical Inn. This is the place Fred and I stopped for refreshments the last time I got to see the redwoods. It turned out to be even better than we hoped. The Lodge is located right where Patrick Creek enters the Smith River. The grounds are lovely, paths along the creek and river and a duck pond with ducks, They have a great bar, a nice big living room with fire place and an inspired kitchen. The beds are pretty good and the staff was all delightful. Our favorite was our waitress, Karen, who has a nice jokey style and a sense of humor that suited us perfectly. But we like Sherry and Terry, too, and everyone else we encountered. The ducks were fun to watch, but the staff said they don’t get too attached. A mountain lion (cougar) came and cleaned out the ducks one year and there’s a big one about this year again. They told stories of a mountain lion attack on a woman, who was dragged into the brush, but rescued, I understand, and the lion killed. I didn’t hear all of the story, but there was great indignation about the fact that people gave more money to support the orphan cubs than to help the woman with her medical bills. When I looked for verification of this incident, though, I couldn’t find it. So maybe I was confused about where it happened or maybe it’s an “unverified” and “unrecognized” attack.  We certainly believed them, but this site about cougar attacks looks pretty complete and I can’t find anything that matches the description and general location. We were VERY careful anyway. The next day we hit the road looking for more redwoods or other botanical adventures and for elk. Botanical Interlude 5: Darlingtonia again. First we stopped  at a California darlingtonia patch, Darlingtonia Trail in the Six Rivers National Forest. Here they call the darlingtonia, California Pitcher Plant. I understand why we don’t. This bog was nicely wheel-chair accessible and had several good stands of darlingtonia. And lots and lots of poison oak. Unfortunately this is a native plant that serves no useful purpose except to give people horrible itchy rashes. It doesn’t even catch flies. Someday I  think I’ll take a poll of what percentage of people who became young adults in the Pacific Northwest ended up with poison oak rash in embarrassing places from fooling around in the woods. Just remember “Leaves of three, let it be!”. This site also had a pamphlet that told us all about the area and the other plants there, Port-Orford-cedar, huckleberries, azaleas (nice one in the above photo), trillium (past its prime). The pamphlet also offered an explanation of the intense green beauty of the Smith  River. Much of the underlying geological structure of the area is a jade-green version of the mineral serpentine. The mineral is toxic to many plant species, but some plants have adapted and the darlingtonia is one of them. So when they're not growing in soggy, sandy fens near the beach, they grow in serpetine soils. On to Crescent City to get camera batteries. Stopped at a store, called, sensibly enough “Grocery Outlet,” where they had little half-bottles of wine (Braidenwood Estates ) for 50 cents, so we had to get one, oh, wothehell, we‘ll have two.  (We tried the chardonnay; not awful, not good. ) Talked to a man in line who asked where we were from and so forth and said we’d probably have a good time, but to be a little careful because he knew that Portland was pretty liberal and the unofficial name for this town was Crescentucky. I’ve always liked Kentucky (mostly because our parents got married there), but I know what he meant. Then, on to the Trees of Mystery. We didn’t actually go to see the trees of mystery, which are redwoods, of course, partly because it cost money -- $13.50; $10.00 for seniors; $6.50 for kiddos. The main reason we didn’t go, however, is their astounding Native American collection, The End of the Trail Museum, which opened in 1968. It is free and beguiled us for several hours. First in the central hall is an exhibit of Native American cradle boards (baby carriers), I have never seen a collection even close to this complete, there may be 40 of them. There are five additional  rooms of artifacts, a shirt made from maple bark, a dance hide trimmed with red-headed woodpecker scalps, tools, jewelry, arrow heads, dioramas, dolls, feather baskets, trade beads--all beautifully presented, it is absolutely amazing!  The museum also has a collection of early photographs by E.S. Curtis. Curtis spent over 30 years, from 1900 to 1930, documenting the lives of tribes east of the Mississippi. His portraits are wonderful, but his eye for important pieces of everyday life are what I find so intriguing. It’s well worth some time at the gallery site if you’re interested or have a favorite tribe you want to learn more about. The five rooms in the museum present the displays geographically -- Northwest California, California and Great Basin, Arctic and Sub-Arctic, Southwest, Plains and Plateaus. The local tribe here is the Yurok and some of the best displays represent their culture. But the woman who put this all together, Marylee Thompson, was an extraordinary collector and archivist or she hired some of the best in the business. The collection is very well-balanced. All is temperature-controlled, well-documented and easily viewable, But very little is said about Marylee Thompson. I’d like to congratulate her on a job very, very well done, but I’m not even sure she’s still alive. Sensibly enough, they don’t allow flash photos, so we don’t have pictures. And the web site doesn’t have much about the museum, but go to the Trees of Mystery site above and click on the Native American Museum link on the left-hand list. Don’t miss it if you’re in the area. And leave them a nice contribution. I have left the most obvious thing about this attraction (although not the best) until last. Besides the classic “End of the Trail” Indian sculpture in the parking lot, they also have Paul Bunyan and Babe, the Blue Ox -- in a commanding, but I think not true-to-life size. The web site says 49'2" on a cold day for Paul and surely he had to be bigger than that to stomp out all the lakes in Minnesota. We liked it a lot, of course, and took pictures. That's me there between Paul and Babe, sorry about Paul's head. Even better were the two motorcycle boys in the parking lot. They were very cute, in those great motorcycle leather chaps that leave the jeans showing in the butt and their helmet scarves. (Man, I looked through a hundred Internet pictures to find some model that looked as good as these guys, but didn’t find one. Here’s an approximation. These are not sissy-boys, they’re the real deal (no pink chaps, thank you very much) And here was the endearing part. They had an instant camera and they were bound and determined to get their picture taken with Babe, the Blue Ox. AND the bike had to be in the photo. As we left they were maneuvering the first bike into position. We wanted to help them, but were afraid our assistance would not be welcome. Gosh, I hope they got some good pix. It was hard to tear ourselves away, but we had to see The Tall Tree and the elk. And this is long enough that I’m going to leave them for the next issue. Next