Morel Quests
Ali, master of all things mycological, knows the west coast lore that morels appear after forest fires. I have always had fairly poor morel karma, or at it always seemed that folks who spent way less time in the woods brought home bags of morels while I seldom found any. This year I aimed to change that, and I used the excuse of morel hunting to explore some new wild areas.
Quest #1: 5-2-09
I found a database of last year's fires in Oregon, and I aimed for the closest one - a two-acre burn on a ridgetop in the coast range, on BLM and Starker Forests land. Access from Highway 34 required trespassing for a short distance, wading a creek, then bushwhacking up a 1000-foot, almost 45-degree slope to a clearcut and associated logging road at the top. That was more of a physical workout than I have experienced in a long time, but once I reached the road it was fairly easy. After exploring the edges of the clearcut, I found the fire. Small, apparently started by careless partiers, and quickly extinguished. Plenty of little fungi, and about 15 false morels, but sadly no morels to be found. There was a great overlook on top, but the weather was a cold, windy drizzle/rain and I couldn't see much. I kept the camera in its plastic bag most of the day, but took it out to snap a few photos.
Burned area.
Clouds over the clearcut.
Descending the long slope was much quicker, and I was soon back to my car, fully soaked but feeling good.
Quest #2: 5-9-09
Ali was excited to check out the Wizard Fire, a burn east of the Cascade crest not far off of Highway 20. Two friends joined us, and our whole household set out, stopping at the famous Sisters bakery on the way. We also stopped at the "Head of the Metolius" (River).
This is a very large spring where a river-sized flow emerges from the ground. It is not as dramatic as the similar one I found in Wyoming because there is no pressure or vertical drop.
The Wizard Fire was sprouting morels, but they were being picked faster than they could grow. The fire was right on a paved road, and about 25 mushroom hunters were systematically combing the area, picking every Morchella in sight.
Morchella elata
Our collective haul: 74 mushrooms from four pickers each picking for four hours. Most were tiny. Not bad, but I got really tired of seeing footprints and cut mushroom stumps. Time to get farther away from civilization...
Quest #3: 5-19 and 5-20-09
The Rattle Fire burned 19,000 acres, mainly inside the Boulder Creek Wilderness fifty miles east of Roseburg. The terrain is steep, with rocky ridges and cliffs, but there is one large level spot: Pine Bench. Pine Bench looked ideal for mushrooms, but as two trails cross it and access is easy, I expected to find this area at least partially picked over. The return leg of my loop crossed Pine Bench, but first I set off far from the trails, aiming for the high trail-less basin of Rattlesnake Creek. I paid a surprise visit to Aunt Kathy as I passed through Roseburg and didn't start walking until 3 pm.
Dam on the Umpqua River, with plenty of water pressure!
Umpqua dam.
Columnar basalt cliffs
After crossing Boulder Creek, I left the trail behind and set off up the valley slope. This was my first time bushwhacking with a backpack, and at times it was really slow. I spent about 20 minutes crossing a bramble-choked ravine, forcing my way inch by inch through blackberries and fallen trees. After that experience, I dropped down closer to the creek and found a deer trail, which provided easier travel for about 2/3 of a mile until I reached my intended ridge.
The ridge was relatively free of brush, and I slogged upward, hoping to emerge into the Rattlesnake Creek basin while avoiding the steep canyon of the lower part of the creek. I started finding more burned manzanita (shrub in foreground above). Much of this area burned in 1996 and again last year. The highly flammable manzanita sprouted after the first fire and carried last years blaze. Even burned, it is nearly impossible to break and forms a dense tangle in many burned-over places. I didn't know what it was at the time, but I came up with a name for it: the abominable shit-brush.
Flower on the ridge
Looking across Boulder Creek to the level Pine Bench on the other side.
I found a few morels near the top of the ridge, but Rattlesnake Creek basin proved to be a moonscape of charred snags and burned manzanita. The organic soil was even burned away, leaving a mineral clay. With no life remaining, there were no morels, and I didn't want to camp beneath so many unstable trees. So I walked up the canyon until I could cross the creek, and started the long slog up the north slope, aiming for the living forest near the ridgetop.
Obliterated forest, as viewed from Rattlesnake Creek
I walked endlessly upward as the light faded, searching for somewhere level. In the twilight I was surprised to find a few morels, and I took a note to return to this area in the morning. Failing to reach the top, I found a level spot behind a large Sugar Pine, laid down my sleeping pad, and fell quickly asleep.
The next morning, just after sunrise, I set off downslope, planning to side-slope walk along the Rattlesnake Creek basin to a bench above the Boulder Creek cliffs. I reached an area where the trees survived the 1996 fire but died in last year's blaze, and I started finding morels. LOTS of morels!
Morels!
How many can you count? (I see at least 13)
Had I been a week earlier, I could have picked more than I could carry, but the majority were getting old and infested with little worms. So I only picked the best ones, and I still filled my bear canister (about 6-8 pounds) in three hours. I picked over this slope, then moved on to a lower one that was even more productive. As I was picking, I heard a rustle and looked up to see a bear about 40 feet away, looking at me. A black bear with a brownish coat, probably about average size for the species. Not particularly afraid but not wanting it to come closer, I shouted "Hey!" and the bear took off running. It stopped again to look, and I talked to it in gentler tones before it took off in a steady bear-gallop down the slope.
With my canister full, I aimed to complete my bushwhacking by contouring above Boulder Creek to Onion Creek. I forged through the abominable shit-brush (manzanita), finding a fairly level bench above the cliffs of the Boulder Creek canyon. Just before Onion Creek, the bench expanded into a plateau with old Douglas Fir, some of them killed by last year's fire. Here I found the largest morels of my hike. There were not many, but the few I found were huge.
Big morels and sooty hand.
Bench with big morels.
My topo map showed an easy slope down to Onion Creek, but it proved to be rather inaccurate. I did find a break in the cliffs where I could work my way down the last hundred feet of 50-60 degree slope to the creek before following the creek to its confluence with Boulder Creek. The bridge over Boulder Creek was washed out, but nature had provided a replacement - a large fallen fir tree.
Crossing Boulder Creek.
From the creek crossing onwards, I was back on established trails, and the going was much faster. I crossed more scorched earth before reaching Pine Bench, where the fire burned less hot and spared most of the trees.
Hard to believe this was a rich forest not that long ago.
One of the majestic Ponderosa Pines that give Pine Bench its name.
Looking east at Diamond Peak on the Cascade crest.
I hiked fast across Pine Bench, as the temperature was quickly climbing into the high 80s - too warm for comfortable backpacking. I stopped back through at Kathy's in Roseburg, where I ate some lunch and accepted her generous gifts of jam and cookies.
Lots o' morels!
Mark and his mushrooms.