Musings from Mark

I try to get up Marys Peak at least once a month.  The weather there is truly unique, perhaps typical of mountaintops elsewhere.  The mountain sticks up high enough into the windy layers of the atmosphere that weather conditions are hardly affected by night and day.  If it is warm aloft it can be 50 degrees all night in December.  If it is cold aloft it can start out at 24 and only get up to 27 despite bright sunshine.  The latter was the case yesterday when we set off for a hike, from Conner’s Camp (2600 feet) up to the summit (4100 feet).

Road note:  I often check Google for Marys Peak road conditions and usually find my blog among the top hits, so in case anyone else is checking the road is currently open to the top, with snow and ice above 2500 feet.  We didn’t drive to the top as we were aiming for a longer hike, but we saw a Prius up top so it appears that clearance is not an issue for now.

A cold showery system brought 1-2″ of snow down to about 1500 feet on Saturday, giving a beautiful frosting to the evergreen foliage of the rainforest understory.

Snow on salal among tall Douglas firs

Rock outcropping halfway up

Near the summit we found a forest of trees all bent at the bottom.  It appears that deep snow, or perhaps a landslide, flattened them when they were small, and they reoriented to grow upward.

Winter above, spring below. Looking east over the Willamette Valley.

Southwest toward the ocean amid shifting wisps of cloud and a sun halo.

The weather report from the summit said 27 degrees and no wind, but since it is almost never wind-free up there I guessed that the anemometer must be iced up.  Indeed it was.  Everything near the summit – antennas, fence, branches, blades of grass, even rocks, had 2″ of snow on the windward side, west-northwest by the look of it.

Iced-up anemometer

Elizabeth on top, looking south

Someone built this snow hut along the trail

We looped back by a different trail, passing a few other hikers.  About six miles in total.  This was the last day of the annual contra dance weekend, and we had friends staying with us from Portland who came to dance.  We aren’t hardcore enough to dance all weekend, but we did have a great time at the open evening dance, with bands Wild Hair (from Portland) and Perpetual E-Motion (all the way from Maine).  PEM was just two guys with an electric fiddle, electric guitar, didgeridoo, footpad percussion, and a lot of loop pedals.  They made a full, energetic sound that was a joy to dance to.

Onion seeds are germinating in my room – when they sprout they will go in the greenhouse to grow until late April when they will go in the ground.

Last Sunday we headed 90 miles east to Santiam Pass for a five-mile ski loop.  There are lots of trails in the mountains, but only the highest have adequate snow in this somewhat anomalous winter.  At 4800 feet the snow is three feet deep, but five inches of rain on top of the snowpack has hardened the surface into a crust strong enough to walk on.  Not ideal skiing conditions, but bright sunlight and a temperature in the low 40s helped to soften the top inch enough for ski traction.  This was Liz’s third time on skis, and all three times have been in somewhat challenging icy or slushy conditions.  I think she is learning quickly, getting her “ski legs” as she says.

Looking south toward Mount Washington

Trail with snowshoe and sled tracks. We met the campers who had pulled their gear in on sleds.

Elizabeth on the south leg of our loop

Looking north toward Three-fingered Jack. I climbed up this knoll to ski down into the bowl in front of me.

Interesting "flock" of clouds behind me next to Hayrick Butte, looking west. These were the first harbingers of an incoming rain system. In another two hours it would be overcast, and we drove home into ever-cloudier skies, reaching the first drops of rain just before Corvallis.

Another amazing cloud formation - Liz called this the "dragon cloud."

This is the time of year in Oregon when the rain keeps falling and the temperature stays cool, but nature begins to show signs of spring.  Crocuses are blooming, and on nights above freezing we can hear a chorus of frogs in the wetlands to the south.  We planted our first lettuce and radishes last Saturday, in the greenhouse.  With luck they will be ready in early April.

Last Saturday (1/28) Kelly suggested a trip to Cape Perpetua.  I’ve been there four times already, but it is always a beautiful destination, especially on a rare (or not-so-rare this winter) clear day in the rainy season.  It is hard to believe with the 55-degree weather and everything still growing that it is in fact January…

Sea anemones in the Cape Perpetua tidepools

Strange root pattern, probably formed when roots grew into a now-decayed stump.

Kelly and Rosalie at the overlook

Sunset over the Pacific

After a two weeks of wet, including the epic flood, our weather has returned to anomalously dry and clear.  This time we had enough wind across the mountains to keep the air mixed and prevent a cold foggy inversion from forming.  As of today (2/5) we have had four bright clear 55-degree days in a row, with one more forecast for tomorrow.  Liz and I hiked up Bald Hill Friday afternoon, a few minutes too late to catch the sunset though not too late for a good glow.

Prior to that I inspected our beehive.  Probably due to a poor queen laying insufficient quantities of brood, and possibly exacerbated by too-wet conditions in the hive, our colony has dwindled to a cluster of about 70 bees surrounding the queen.  They almost certainly won’t make it to spring, though they are leaving plenty of honey that we can use to jump-start our bees this year.

Bald Hill just post-sunset, 2-3-12

Afterglow

With the clear days, my solar shower finally got hot enough – plenty hot at 134 degrees.  That inspired me to finish the project, attaching a showerhead and setting up our old tub with a drain into the chicken yard.  I decided to add an enclosure with shower curtains for some measure of privacy, as the shower spot is in view of some of our neighbors.

After three clear days

Shower completed. We hung shower curtains from the metal pipe a few minutes after taking this picture.

Mark and his project.

It has certainly been an interesting week in Corvallis weather-wise.  I often complain how boring the weather is here relative to Minnesota, but we do occasionally see extremes.

Last Sunday Liz and I drove 85 miles on icy/snowy roads to Breitenbush Hot Springs, where we spent a most relaxing day in the natural hot pools.  There is perhaps no better weather than snow showers for sitting in 105-degree water.

Corvallis got about two inches of snow Sunday night, creating the beautiful scene that appears on average once a year here.

1-16-11, two inches of snow in Corvallis

Bees in the snow. They are alive under there, albeit in a small cluster.

We went hiking at Finley south of town to celebrate the snow.  I was amazed to find a flock of golden- and ruby-crowned kinglets flitting about.  They spend the winter here and must find enough insects to eat.

Hiking at Finley Wildlife Refuge south of town

Fun in the snow...

On Tuesday a stationary front formed along the Columbia River.  To the north Seattle had heavy snow and ice.  Portland saw light to moderate rain.  Corvallis was stuck in the center of the “atmospheric river” – moisture pouring onshore south of the front accompanied on Wednesday by high winds – up to 110 mph on the coast though we didn’t get much over 25 mph here.  It rained for 60 hours – 2 1/2 days – without stopping, totaling 5.5 inches here and over 12 inches in parts of the coastal mountains.

All that rain added to 2-3 inches of water locked in snowpack created an epic flood on rivers draining the coast range.  The Marys River crested at 21.5 feet, five inches above the old record though in some areas with a narrow channel it was more like two feet higher.  Our friend Lisa (source of our delicious local milk) lives right on the river.  The water flowed through the barn and shop but stopped about 10 inches below the floor of the house.  Plenty of mess but relatively little damage, thankfully.

Marys River at record flood stage flowing across Bellfountain Road. 1-19-11

Lisa and Rachel moving 1000 chickens to higher ground

Our chicken yard after 5.5 inches of rain

Bee Creek on our property

On Friday, with the water low enough for me to drive through, I spent the morning at Lisa’s place washing out the shop building that flooded.

1-20-11, driving down Bellfountain, water five inches down from crest

Looking north on 13th Street from Lisa's place. I didn't come that way...

Lisa and the flood

Farm reappearing, water about 12 inches down from the crest here.

Looking south on 13th St./Fern Road. Rachel (with the 1000 chickens) facing the camera, Lisa looking away.

Heading home via Grange Hall Road, water about 8" deep but not moving fast here.

Our friends Eva and Jesse have a homestead in a valley out near Alsea.  The road to their place was closed until Saturday morning by landslides and fallen trees.  When we couldn’t reach them, we decided to go check on their place.  We were amazed that the house, only 4-5 feet above Honey Grove Creek, didn’t flood, but the raging water did wash out the roots of a 18″ diameter alder tree that then fell on their roof.  As we didn’t know if they were in the area or away traveling, we cut the tree where it was resting on the roof, found a tarp to cover it with, and dried things out a bit inside.

Tree partially removed, damage revealed.

Top half of the fallen alder.

Ceiling pushed down inside.

As it turned out, they were in Portland but hadn’t checked their voicemail for a few days and weren’t aware of the storm down here.  Jesse came through on Sunday and I helped him remove the rest of the tree and get the roof somewhat more permanently repaired.

Jesse working on the trunk, standing on the roof of their lean-to/wood storage area.

Broken roof truss inside

Truss repaired

Roof repaired, just needs shingles

We returned to a delicious pesto-roasted home-grown chicken prepared by Elizabeth and hot tub heated by John.  Not a bad way to end a rainy day of chainsawing…

The atmospheric river is forecast to return this Tuesday-Thursday, so there could be more flooding.  At present it is expected to be nowhere near as bad as last week.

Until three days ago we were having an unusually dry winter, with many cool clear or foggy days instead of the usual rain.  Last weekend, the pattern shifted to cold, bringing snow (about 2-3″ all told) and ice to Corvallis.  Elizabeth and I spent last Sunday at beautiful Breitenbush Hot Springs.  There is perhaps no better weather to sit in 105º water than intermittent snow showers mixed with bursts of sun.  We had all manner of road conditions on the drive, from near-whiteout falling snow to slush to ice to some bare pavement around Albany where the temperature stayed just above freezing.

Yesterday marked the start of the “atmospheric river” aiming moisture and wind at our area.  We stayed just above the freezing point, but Seattle and nearby points saw 5-15″ of snow this morning.  Winds on the coast and in the high mountains gusted to 100-110 mph, blocking highways with fallen trees.

It has been raining continuously since midnight yesterday, over four inches in two days with another 1-2 inches predicted for tomorrow.  The coastal mountains have seen more like eight inches, rapidly melting the snow from last weekend.  The Marys River rose from low-medium to record flood stage in less than a day.  We are safe here but our friend Lisa (on the farm where we get our milk) now has water on all sides with her house a foot or two above the water.  I tried to stop in there to help out this evening but found all roads blocked by fast-moving water.  Thankfully it is only expected to rise another few inches as it spreads out over the wide floodplain, and with a small watershed it will recede quickly as the rain eases.

The Cascades are getting snow measured in feet, and if the weather eases I’m thinking of a cross-country skiing excursion this Sunday.

Last year a group of us took off the weekend after finals for three days on the sunny eastern side of the Cascades, sleeping in yurts at Tumalo State Park and skiing/snowshoeing during the day.  We enjoyed it so much that we did it again this year from December 11 to 13.  Different folks arrived at different times, but in all we had ten people: Kelly, Kevin, Katie and James, Rosalie and Andrew, Ebba and John, and of course Elizabeth and myself.

Last year the weather was warm and rainy.  This year we had the unending high pressure that keeps the valleys in fog and the mountains in bright sun.  The only downside was a relative shortage of snow – only the highest elevations had enough for skiing and the snow there was crusted and icy.

We shared food and music in the evenings; perhaps my favorite part was rocking out on the double-barrel cedar flute with drum, fiddle, and Kelly’s foot-tapping as accompaniment.  We went through most of the songs we knew and only stopped when the camp host shut us down at 10:30.  I don’t have any pictures from the yurts or the campground, but I can probably dig up a few from my friends.

On our second day we headed to Dutchman Flat, at 6200 feet, for cross-country skiing.  We chose an “intermediate” trail with some short climbs and descents that caused many wipe-outs on the icy snow.  But the beautiful weather made up for it.

Looking south toward Mount Bachelor.

The last part of the trail followed the closed-in-winter Cascade Lakes highway, which is groomed as a ski and snowmobile superhighway.  Easy to coast along in the shadow of the Three Sisters.

South Sister on the left, with Middle and North Sister behind. Broken Top on the right.

On Tuesday we left our beloved yurts behind and set out for snowshoeing on Santiam Pass and a soak at Cougar hot springs.  The weather was amazing – 33 degrees with no wind and bright high-altitude sun felt more like 60 degrees – comfortable with a sweater and no hat.  For the first half through an open burned-over area we didn’t even wear our snowshoes as the crust was strong enough to support us.

Looking north toward the jagged Three-fingered Jack

The trees were covered in fine ice crystals which drifted down as the temperature rose.

I don’t have any photos from the hot springs, but we all enjoyed it despite our stay being cut short as the rules forbid after-dark soaking.  We reconvened at the Pizza Research Institute in Eugene for some most delicious unusual pizza (with spiced butternut squash as a main ingredient).  As it turned out we missed a cold 20-degree night in Corvallis, and we returned to find an inch of ice on the hot tub.  We burned through about 80 pounds of wood to get the house back to a comfortable temperature.

Despite having been up Marys Peak the previous evening, I convinced Liz it would be worthwhile to get up at 5 am and drive up out of the fog to catch the total lunar eclipse.  As it turned out, at least 20 other folks had the same idea – more people than I have ever seen in the parking lot on the mountain.  The inversion that kept the peak warm had ended, replaced by a stiff 30 mph southwest wind at about 32 degrees.  Clouds were pouring in off the ocean, with their tops at about 3500 ft – just low enough that we still had a clear view of the sky from on top.

Moon in total eclipse. As this was a non-central eclipse with the moon at the bottom of Earth's shadow, the bottom stayed a bit brighter.

We hiked to the summit for the sunrise, laying low in the grass with snowpants and down jackets to keep warm in the chill moist wind.  The view across the undulating, flowing cloud tops to the Cascade crest silhouetted against the sunrise glow was one of the most incredible sights I have witnessed.

Cascade crest, with Mt. Jefferson (left) and the Three Sisters (center)

Meanwhile, in the west, the moon was beginning to emerge from Earth’s shadow.

Partial eclipse. Almost like a crescent moon, but wrong time of month.

As sunrise approached, the clouds were rising, occasionally reaching our level and immersing us in fast-moving fog.  As it happened the sun peeked above the horizon at 7:37:30 am, just as the clouds engulfed the peak in a cold whiteness.

Zoom in on the Three Sisters in sunrise glow.

Sunrise! Visible for about 30 seconds.

Gone behind the rising clouds.

We got home just as our housemates were waking up, and in time to kill our remaining two turkeys – a hen and a tom.  The cold rain of the day before Thanksgiving inspired us to limit our turkey slaughter to two, with the other two to wait for a dry day after Liz’s return.  The process went smoothly, and the birds weighed in at 10.75 (hen) and 19.75 (tom) pounds.  We will miss the gobbling and entertainment, but we won’t miss the big feed bills.

Liz getting the last of the guts out of the tom turkey.

On December 9, with the valley still in inversion fog, we drove up Marys Peak to watch the sunset and full moon rise.  In the valley it was about 33 degrees, while on the mountain it was 50 and perfectly clear.

Full moon and Mount Hood over the "Willamette Sea" of fog.

Last rays of sun; sun set at 4:42:30 pm.

Full moon on full zoom, testing out the capabilities of my camera.

I’m still getting caught up on posting…

On December 3 I invited Kelly to get out of the valley fog and explore some new areas near the coast.  We headed first for Drift Creek Falls, famous for its 240′ long, 100′ high suspension bridge in the middle of nowhere.  With no wind the valley was clear but cold, hovering around 31 degrees.  Our first discovery was a type of mold or fungus we had never seen before.

Weird-looking "mold"

We were about to give up and bring some home to show Ali, when Kelly touched it and it melted – ice!  Somehow at just below freezing waterlogged sticks extruded long, hair-thin ice crystals through every pore, creating an ice formation with the appearance and texture of cotton candy.  We tried eating it – pure water with a slight flavor of the rotting wood it came out of.

The falls themselves are a 70-foot cascade over columnar basalt where one branch of Drift Creek falls into the valley of the other branch.

The bridge is beautiful and provides an otherwise-impossible view of the falls, and we pondered exactly how it was erected out here with no road access.  Helicopters?

The trail crosses the bridge and descends to the base of the falls.  The bridge itself was covered in a layer of ice, and we were glad to have the railings.

We took a loop trail on the return, exploring a bit more of the second-growth forest with huge rotting stumps of the original old-growth

Bird's nest fungi - the "eggs" are spore-bearing structures, and the spores are dispersed when rain splashes water out of the cups.

From the falls we drove to Neskowin Beach, home of the ancient semi-petrified stumps preserved when an earthquake caused their forest to sink below sea level.  It was 50 degrees and sunny – so different from the 32 degrees and foggy in the valley inversion.

Neskowin Beach

Intricate sand-patterns on the edge of the surf

As our final destination, I wanted to check out Mount Hebo, and 3154 feet one of the higher peaks in the Coast Range and supposedly with a good view in all directions.  We were a bit disappointed, as much of the top has been pulverized for a former Air Force radar installation and it is still covered in radio and TV towers.  It did have a decent view of Mt. Hood and Mt. Jefferson, as well as the ocean, but it lacked the wildness and serenity of Marys Peak.

Towers on Mount Hebo

On December 5, Ebba successfully defended her doctoral thesis, a cause for much celebration.  With her parents and friends here, we sampled all six of our fermenting carboys.

Left to right: pinot rose, chardonnay, apple cyser mead, blackberry mead, spice mead, pear mead.

Last summer while hiking near Bald Hill we found a rose bush covered in strange mossy growths.  I didn’t take a picture, but they looked like this:

Rose gall (photo from Wanderin' Weeta blog)

After some research, we learned that they were “mossy rose galls”, inhabited by the larvae of the Diplolepis rosae wasp:

Rose gall wasp, credit to hedgerowmobile.com

John put the galls in a jar, and we forgot about them for four months.  When John opened the jar today, imagine our surprise to find these beautiful creatures:

Female (top) and two males, taken with 20x magnification through John's dissecting scope.

Female close-up.

These are Jewel Wasps, Torymus bedeguaris, which parasitize the gall wasp larvae – meta-parasites!  No gall wasps hatched out, either because they were all parasitized or (more likely) because they were more sensitive to dessication as the galls dried out.