Anenome

Pacific City. We came out to Pacific City today and spent a few hours playing with Anna’s nephews on the beach near haystack rock. The beach was fine sand, with sandstone cliffs to the north and dunes behind them. Checking out tidepools, we spotted sculpin, anenome, hermit crabs, etc. While we were there some boats came into the beach from salmon fishing. The guys on one had two chinook salmon they’d caught. A wildlife researcher or officer or something came over and asked them about the catch, checked the length and weight, and scanned them for RFID chips that the Oregon Dept. of Fish and Wildlife plants in hatchery salmon before release (these two didn’t have chips). After the beach, Anna and Aaron and I took a hike out to the tip of Cape Lookout through temperate rainforest. It was about three miles each way, first through woods and then along the edge of very high cliff. Conditions on the north side of the cape were wet but the air on the south side was dry. The pines and fir were thick and tall and beautiful and made for a very different kind of forest experience than those to which I’m accustomed. We saw a ground beetle and banana slugs and cormorants on this hike. As we neared the tip of Cape Lookout the air began to smell fetid; Aaron surmised there was a rookery on the cliffs below. This looked to be a pretty good judgment, as in some places we could look down and see manure-covered ledges just above the surf. At one point on the trail was a marker for a plane crash site. We looked it up when we returned and found that a WWII B-17 on a training mission had crashed into the cliff, killing all but one airman.

Silver Falls

Silver Falls. Silver Falls is a state park east of Salem. We hiked a seven mile trail around the park that took us past an astounding nine waterfalls (out of ten in the park). The landscape was formed by two volcanic explosions, and see the striations in the volcanic rock that surrounds the gorges into which the water falls. Anna pointed out that the geological time periods affecting this area were far older than those referenced in Michigan, where the glaciation that marks the landscape occurred just 12000 years ago. (This was one of the first times in my life geology has seemed interesting.) Saw some turkey vultures circling at north falls. At one point on the hike, Anna and I spotted a large rodent emerging from a burrow beneath the path. It had some ferns in it’s mouth and paused slightly to look at us, about five feet away, then scurried away. We weren’t sure what it was, but when we described it to Aaron he identified it easily as a nutria. We were disappointed that it was an introduced pest, but, again, it was fun to encountered something new and different in the wild.

Detroit Lake

Detroit Lake. I had wanted to get out to the Cascade Mountains on this trip, and while I wasn’t quite able to fit that in, this trip to a reservoir just west of them was pretty rewarding. There aren’t very many lakes in Oregon, and those that I was able to spot on maps were all impounds. Detroit Lake is formed by an enormous dam in the North Santiam River, constructed in 1953 for power generation and flood control. It’s also a very popular spot for boaters; there were loads of them out on the water. We rented a canoe from a marina in Detroit. We paddled across the lake, against a headwind. There were very nice views of the eastern cascades to the west. I fished a bit but didn’t catch anything, despite the fact that the lake was stocked with 100,000 trout in June. I haven’t done well with trout. Hopefully that will change. The eastern edge of the lake was very shallow, with lots of stumps standing a few feet above the surface. From there, we saw a bald eagle. This was another great spot to spend a day, although in the future I might pick one of the smaller reservoirs, as there was more activity on this lake than I enjoy.

Deer skeleton

Woods. On the first afternoon I went for a walk through the woods, out towards the east side of the island. The island was completely deforested late in the 19th century, but now these woods are thick spruce. Very little sunlight penetrates and moss and mushrooms cover the granite ledges that emerge from the soil. These woods are rarely walked by people, and, consequently, are a web of deer trails, eight-inch wide swaths cut through the needles and moss. One of the first things I noticed out here was that most of the deer scat was very really soft, which didn’t surprise me because my dad said they eat a lot of blueberries. There aren’t any nut-producing trees on the island, so the deer mainly feed on the apple trees and berries. About a mile into the woods I found a nearly complete deer skeleton. The skull was missing, but almost everything else was there.

Pollock

Fishing. Fishing has always been a big part of what I do on the island. Usually, I’ve fished for mackerel with silver jigs or colorful trees meant to mimic very small herring. People on the island have rarely caught cod or flounder in my lifetime, but the lore is that it used to happen all the time. These waters used to teem with ground fish. History books are filled with descriptions of these waters in the 18th century, carpeted with fish that could be speared without getting one’s pant legs wet. Today, overfishing has pretty much eliminated the commercial ground fishery. By the time I was a kid, catching a cod on a long line was a rarity. In the last 10 years, it seems like there are fewer mackerel, too (probably tied to the reduced herring fishery, which spelled the end of the prospect cannery). Pollock is now the most common catch for recreational anglers on the island. There are exceptions, though, and people seems to feel that the ground fish may be gaining numbers. I caught a cod on a rotten hotdog in 2001 and another guy got one two years ago on a clam. Then, this year, someone else reported he’d been finding flounder in his lobster traps. Emboldened by this undeniable trend, dad and Larry and I set out fishing. We tried a few spots on the east and south sides of the island, running bait on the bottom and lures beneath the surface. In the end, we came up with four pollock. I blame it on our timing: the tide was ebbing, while the fish seem to be more likely to move on the incoming tide. We also saw a porpoise about 50 yards off the boat. It surfaced maybe three times within our view.

Meadow. Got up early the next day and headed for the north field. I was hoping for a nice view of the mountains in Acadia National Park as the sun rose. Unfortunately, I forgot that the sun rises a lot earlier in Maine than in Michigan and when I got up at 4:45 it was already light out. It didn’t matter, though, because there was thick fog anyway, and there would be no view of the mainland. I walked up to the field with a lawn chair and binoculars and sat down facing north, with an apple tree 100 yards before me and the clay cliff before ocean 100 yards beyond that. Before too long I noticed some shadows in the fog, and then spotted a doe. I watched her for a bit, and then a spike buck came into view a ways beyond her. While I watched for the next 30 minutes, the fog shifted continually and both deer faded in and out of view. I was watching the doe through binoculars when she first caught my scent, snorted and bounded in the forest.

Kayaking

Kayaking. I think the current popularity of the kayak should be some sort of marketing case study. They were a rarity on the Maine coast 25 years ago but are everywhere today. And, I’m all for it. They’re easy, and safe, and practical. My dad got one a few years ago and I took it out on a beautiful day. I paddled west to Placentia, an unoccupied island maintained by the Nature Conservancy. After beaching the kayak I took the trail up to the foundation where the Kellam house used to stand and then continued into the trail-less forest. I’d never walked through the interior of Placentia before. There’s a rock wall across a portion of the island, and a lot of swamp. The walk was really quite difficult, as the terrain was so thick. Anywhere a tree had blown down, scores of small spruce were vying to take its place. By the time I reached the western shore, I was dreading the return trip, but managed to make it back. I saw diverse and abundant mushrooms in these woods, too. I took pictures of maybe a half dozen and plan to identify them. I haven;t paid much attention to mushrooms in the past, but these were so different from one another, and some exotic looking, that I they really captured me. On the paddle back, a seal popped up nearby the kayak, but for some reason, didn’t turn around to look at me. Usually seals are super interested in people, but this one floated about 30 yards off the kayak for five minutes, only showing me the back of its head. I wouldn’t have thought I could become a bigger fan of seals, but this defiant behavior was completely endearing.

I hadn’t been here since May, and the landscape had changed a lot. Places that I was able to walk through easily three months ago were fierce thickets now and the minimal insects I encountered then were now great swarms undeterred by repellent. After parking the car I had headed east into the woods, knowing I’d reach the river within a mile. I came quickly came across a nice meadow. It was actually probably nicer before the autumn olive invaded, as parts that should have been tall grass are now thick shrub. I walked the meadow and found it rife with deer beds, with some paths tunneling into alder and autumn olive thickets.

Along the way I noticed some decent oaks, but always surrounded by solid underbrush that would make hunting around them tough. Kicking around in there I also saw some very vintage litter: beer cans with the pull tabs, and the old barrel-style bottles. After an hour I came out at the river and followed a very rough two-track that parallels it heading upstream. Walking the two-track, I saw no more signs of wildlife than I’d seen before, but an increase in junk (chair left in makeshift deer blind, cassette tape, empty bottles, etc.). To the west was the river, and after a bit there were some decent-sized cliffs between the two-track and river. The forest was mostly maple and beech with thick understory. At one point in a low spot it turned to cedar, and towards the point where I departed the two-track, there were some decent oaks with a nice duff floor to the east.

After walking upstream I cut back north and started hiking downstream, through an area I’d hiked back in May. This is the spot that was easy walking then, but trying now. In the meadows the shrubs and brambles were chest high. More annoying, poison ivy was rampant beneath the brambles, covering every step and rising to my knees. Once I moved through the meadows things cleared out a bit, but the understory was still mostly filled with poison ivy and invasives. Among all of this, I found a spot with some decent hickories and oaks at the foot of a hill.

I was in the woods for four hours, walking almost the whole time. It was a good day, and while I didn’t see much in the way of wildlife, I was able to concentrate a bit more on trees and plants. Interesting to see how different this area was in mid-summer as opposed to spring.

Fen in the Jordan River Valley

The loop from Deadman’s Hill (named because a logger died on the hill) to Pinney Bridge walk-in campground and back is 18.5 miles. We hike south on the west side of the river. The first several miles of trail twists through beaver ponds and fen before meeting the Jordan River. The river is a beautiful sandy-bottomed stream of cold, clear water. The shore along it is often peat, and the numerous fallen logs in the river turn it into a maze through which the current twists. We saw some interesting things along the way: two moths in congress, lots of american toads, and some deer flies eating three dead carrion beetles. We got to the Pinney Bridge campground around 4 p.m. and set up the tent, at which point it started to rain again. We hung out in the tent for a while as rain fell, and then went down to the river before having dinner and turning in.

Pinney Bridge campground is nice. If you don’t walk south like we did it’s about a 1/4 mile walk in from Pinney Road. There are maybe 15 sites circling a meadow that used to be a logging camp. We had fun imagining the logging camp, and Anna joked about a Park Service “evening program” about the grounds’ history as first a logging camp, then a Conservation Corp camp, and finally a state campground.

Snail on the Jordan River Pathway

Sunday was a beautiful day, especially in the woods. We hit the trail for the 10-mile hike back north through beautiful woods and over more challenging terrain. Spotted an interesting pawprint in the sand where the trail passed through a meadow. Not sure what kind of animal it was. Anna talked a bit about how, going on hikes is more interesting for her know that she’s not doing scientific fieldwork; said that for the past several years going on hikes was a bit too similar to going to work. When we got back to Deadman’s Hill at about 3pm and the rabbit was there at the car again.

This is a great hike. I think even nicer than the Manistee River Trail loop.

Tiger Beetle and Soldier Ant

We wound up circling around a circuit involving Long Lake, Hall Lake, a few other trails. We went out probably 3 miles to the Devils Soup Bowl, which is an interesting geological formation. The trail around it is pretty sandy, the usual sign of esker, but there wasn’t the pronounced distinction between esker and kettle that I’m familiar with from the Kettle Moraine area in Wisconsin. The Yankee Springs website lists the Devils Soup Bowl as a major attraction, along with Grave’s Hill Overlook.  The overlook, however, doesn’t exist anymore (I’m not the first person to blog about this). The thick stand of autumn olive that obscures whatever vista was once there is a great illustration of an invasive species running unchecked. In this second half of the hike, the part further east near the Soup Bowls and Hall Lake, there were lots of invasives like Autumn Olive and Japanese Knotweed covering the understory and filling the fields.

There wasn’t as much wetland as we’d hoped for here, but there were one or two spots that Anna said might well be fen. It’s difficult to make the call without really getting into them, though, and when folks lay trails they usually avoid fens because they’re not super friendly (water, hummocks, smelly, poison sumac, etc.). The neatest thing we saw was a tiger beetle eating a soldier ant. We watched the beetle struggle with the ant for a while, with the ant gradually growing more placid. Then we walked to the car and drove home while I imagine the beetle ate the ant.I guess the ballet of life goes on, or something.

Lake Ovid Bass

Lake Ovid’s fairly big. We had been provided along with the boat rental with a contour map of the depths, but the size of the lake and wind really restricted just how much ground we could cover in the rowboat. We managed to row out against the wind until the island was just to our windward side and could sit calmly there and fish. I caught a bluegill and a very small bass. Sandwich spotted a deer on the far shore. We moved after a while into some weeds, where everyone hit on some bluegill. They were even taking Sandwich’s bare hook (he also got a bass here). We ran out of worms and the action slowed a bit on plastics. Then we rowed back to the island, where I caught a decent largemouth on a chartreuse mister twister.

We’d been out on the water for about four hours when we called it quits; never did any hiking. Got some decent sun and had a nice day. On the way home we spotted two sandhill cranes in a fallow cornfield on Shepardsville Rd.

Lake Michigan Shoreline

White Pine is just a few tenths of a mile from the Lake Michigan beach. The shore is beautiful, and because there isn’t any road access, there were relatively few people around. We went swimming in the lake on Saturday afternoon and watched the sunset in the evening, feeling fortunate to have such a great place to visit. On the path between the campsite and lake we saw a very small bird. Anna guessed it was a robin because there was a robin calling nearby. Too small to fly, it was sitting on the ground, swaying softly side to side. When we returned on the same path about an hour later it was gone.

This was a great spot. I’d like to come back, either to this area or perhaps to North Manitou Island.

We Took to the Woods

That was a silly thing to hope for. I recently reread “We Took to the Woods” and came to the same conclusion Katherien Woods did when she called it “priceless,” “irresistably spontaneous,” “perspicacious,” and “hilariously funny,” in the New York Times. Throughout “We Took to the Woods,” Mrs. Rich offers a forthright explanation of the joys and hardships of living remotely, but does so with a sensitive selfawareness that never places her at odds with the folk lurking in the towns downriver.

“We Took to the Woods” is largely a collection of folk vignettes about life in northern Maine. There is less discussion of the flora and fauna of the area than there is description of the lifestyle adopted by the Richs and the characters living in the woods along with them. Mrs. Rich titles her chapters with questions she is often asked by people from outside (things like, “aren’t you ever frightened?” and “but how do you make a living?”). This device inserts the skepticism and judgment Mrs. Rich feels from the outside into her life in the woods. Rich is consistently comparing life in the woods to life on the outside, explaining that she keeps busy keeping house, is entertained by the motley characters with whom she shares the woods, and is intellectually stimulated by the majesty of her surroundings. For the greatest part, “We Took to the Woods” is a picture of how Mrs. Rich views her experience in the woods vis a vis the expectations of outsiders.

While many books about life in the woods amplify the solitude and elevate the narrator as a pivotal figure within his natural surroundings, Rich treats herself always as a visitor in the woods and describes the woods as a phenomenon she has had the opportunity to observe rather than the home and neighborhood in which she lives. In telling of an annual fishing trip to an especially remote pond she underscores the notion of humans as visitors in the woods.

There is that feeling of remoteness and calm and timelessness about it that makes the scramble of ordinary life seem like a half-forgotten and completely pointless dream. It just lies there in a fold in the hills, open to the sky and wind and weather. Ducks and loons breed in its coves, the gulls fly over it in great white arc, and the great fish go their secret ways in its dim depths. Once in a while, human beings, like Gerrish and me, invade its privacy, but we don’t make any impression on B Pond. I always have the impression that the whole valley in which it lies- the hillsides and the deer on the hills, the trees that grow down to the water and the birds that build in them, the pond itself with all its myriad life- simply waits for us to go. I always want to turn back, after we have entered the woods on our homeward trek, to see what enchanting things take place the minute our backs are turned. (281-282)

Rich's Winter House

Despite Mrs. Rich’s attempt to cast “We Took to the Woods” as a collection of responses to questions from the outside, she associates herself more closely to outside life than to woods. In blatant disregard for archetype, Rich never paints herself as having, “gone native.” She remains aware of her status as an unnatural presence in these woods, and acknowledges that the social trappings of the lives we share with each other are more hers to claim than the seasonal ebb and flow of the woods. In sharing her reaction to a day of berry-picking in Prospect, Mrs. Rich expresses her hopes that in death she by able to truly join the natural world in which she is merely a visitor in life.

At night, after being at Prospect, I lie in bed and see great clusters of berries slide by endlessly against my closed lids. They haunt me, there are so many of them yet unpicked, so many that never will be picked. The birds and bears and foxes will eat a few, but most of them will drop off at the first frost to return to the sparse soil of Prospect whatever of value they borrowed from it. Nature is strictly moral. There is no attempt to cheat the earth by means of steel vault or bronze coffin. I hope that when I die, I too may be permitted to pay at once my oldest outstanding debt, to restore promptly the minerals and salts that have been lent to me for the little while that I have use for blood and bone and flesh. (289)

When I first read “We Took to the Woods,” I was hoping for a condemnation of social behaviors and an auto-adoration of this figure who rejected civilization and gained favor in the natural world. This book instead gave me a depiction of the remote life as an analog to the urban one, and a portrayal of the narrator as always a part of the outside world intruding on the naturalness of the woods. As humans, we can never truly shake of that sense of “society,” nor can we ever live alone and truly naturally. Mrs. Rich’s argument seems to be that, nevertheless, we can still live simply and meaningfully, and be well entertained.

Headed up past Newaygo into the national forest and parked at an unmarked lot 50 yards into the woods off 40th street. This is a North Country Trail head. I hiked south for about twenty minutes with traffic never out of earshot. Crossed state highway M37, some railroad tracks and a bunch of dirt roads, at which point the trail ended (this point is marked as a “temporary connector”on the map). Turned around and walked back to the car, then kept going north for another 20 minutes to a parking area at M37. Walked back to the car and left. If I ever decide to section hike the NCT, I will really appreciate having already completed this part.

Drove back down through Newaygo, which seems like a very nice place. If I had this to do over again, I bring Anna, hike some spots further into the forest, and get lunch in Newaygo. As it was, I just cut east and headed for home. Made a brief stop at at Marl Lake on M46 near Edmore. Lots of small bluegill in there, caught one. Saw a guy with a stringer of five/six fat bluegill and a nice looking kit-built kayak from Chesapeake Light Craft. Helped him load the kayak into his Econoline and then drove home.

Round Lake is fairly small and lined with houses on about three sides. There scenery from the boat was not very pretty. I rented the boat from Don’s Party Store (sign says “beer, boats, bait and pizza”) and also bought some red worms. I liked this store a great deal, it reminded me of the markets in central Maine where I grew up. The weather was a bit grim, hot and humid and threatening to rain. I was on the water for two hours, fished worms, spoons, spinners, and twisters, and caught three fish, each on worms.

Bowfin

I wasn’t fishing for long when I hooked something large. I was using a worm and bobber rig, and after it hit the worm the fish surfaced. I had to work it for several minutes before I could get a look at it, at which point I realized I had no idea what kind of fish it was. It was about twenty inches long and had a very long dorsal fin. It fought pretty hard; when I had it close to the boat it would dive deep under the boat. As I was working it in, two guys in a Lund pulled alongside, offered to net it for me, got it under control and then gave me some education.

They said it was a dogfish. This was interesting to me, since in Maine a dogfish is a small shark. I think they call it a dogfish as a variant on catfish. They pointed out to me that there were no barbs like a catfish has on this fish. They also said it was an undesirable fish in the lake, as it outcompetes popular gamefish like bass and pike. Once home I found that a more accurate name is bowfin, and that it’s a prehistoric species, not generally valued as a gamefish. After the bowfin I caught the smallest bluegill I’ve ever seen, and then a good-sized largemouth. I decided to keep and eat the bass.