Showing posts with label Linnaea borealis. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Linnaea borealis. Show all posts

Saturday, October 1, 2016

The Ascent to Sperry Chalet





At the Trail head

During the night fears surfaced in my subconscious: would my camera work, would the weather be decent, did I have the stamina to make it there, what if I encountered a bear? Towards dawn, through the open window I could hear what sounded like torrents of rain--oh, no! That would make it a miserable long hike... When I got up to look, it was only the sound of the wind whipping up the leaves of the tree by my window. It was cloudy and chilly, but otherwise fine. I put on the four layers I had with me just like the day before--this would lighten my daypack. I turned on my camera and it was working--hooray!

Kevin came by to pick me up around seven and bought me a hearty breakfast before dropping me off at the trail head, which was right across the road from Lake McDonald Hotel. I don't know how I could have missed the sign for Sperry Trail, but despite looking for it, I hadn't seen it before. Before seeing me off, Kevin gave me instructions on the bear spray he had equipped me with--keeping on the safety until the need to use it arose, remaining calm and waiting until the target was in range, and that if deployed, the pepper spray would likely get on me too. He reassured me that in all his years of hiking to Sperry Chalet, he'd never once had to use the bear spray, but it's considered standard safety equipment for hikers at Glacier. I was to keep it on my pack belt at all times when hiking.

It was about eight-thirty when I set out. The trail rose gently as it went past the Lake McDonald riding stables, and then at a steeper incline as it followed the bank of Snyder Creek. The tall forest of western cedar, pine and fir was lush and wet in the cool morning, and yet as soon as the terrain began to rise, my pulse rate did too, and breathing became more labored. I took short rests every twenty to thirty paces--just about every switchback--to bring both down before going on.

Crystal Creek

Kevin had said that about a third of the way there I would cross a creek--Crystal Ford. Approaching the creek, the trail began to descend for a while, a welcome relief from climbing. A sign on the other side of the wooden bridge pointed to the left for Sperry Chalet, and indicated 4.9 miles to go. Just past the bridge I saw a couple of what looked like coral root orchid spikes on the steep bank, with the flowers going to seed, but since I'd just put away my camera after taking a couple of shots of the creek, I didn't stop to record them (now I wish I had).

Twinflower  (Linnaea borealis)

The sun was coming out and illuminating bits of vegetation on the forest floor. There were different kinds of mosses and mushrooms, what looked like wintergreen, rattlesnake orchid leaves, and much that I couldn't begin to identify. I noticed some of the plant whose leaves I'd taken to be orchids at the Trail of Cedars were in bloom, a solitary white flower with six petals (lily family?), which I was later able to identify as Clintonia uniflora--first time I'd seen this flower which also grows in the Appalachians.

I spotted a couple of small clumps of delicate pink Twinflower (Linnaea borealis) growing by the side of the trail and then one huge patch in bloom. I've seen this plant growing only in one location in the east--Ice Mountain in West Virginia, where due to the site's peculiar micro-climate, this boreal species is able to survive at a much lower latitude than usual. In Glacier it is part of the native flora. I stopped to take some photos. Each time I had to take the camera out of my backpack, which took up time, but I didn't want to leave my camera around my neck, as the swing with each stride was annoying.

The mule pack passed me on its return trip around eleven--I moved off the trail to my right, which happened to be the downhill side. Later during my stay at Sperry Chalet I would learn that this was precisely the proper trail etiquette, because should the animals spook, they would turn uphill and avoid a possible tumble downhill.

I passed other hikers coming down the trail, and was passed by several who were moving at a faster pace. Around noon I took a short break to eat lunch--one of the two energy bars I'd bought for the occasion. It was now warm enough to remove my parka. Shortly after this break, the forest began to thin out and I emerged into full sun. The switchbacks became steeper, the terrain rockier.

Point of no return waterfall.

I was now looking for the view of a waterfall which Kevin had told me marked the "point of no return," the half-way mark or slightly past. It finally came into view. I was tiring out faster, and having to take more frequent rests.

Around one-thirty I passed a lady hiking alone, an Asian woman. I asked her if she was coming down from Sperry Chalet. She said she'd started out from Gunsight Pass Trail-- this is a twenty-mile hike from the trailhead at the Jackson Glacier overlook to Lake McDonald. I was quite impressed! Even more so when I learned later on that Gunsight Pass was still covered with snow fields.

Flowers by a rill.

Further up the trail I came across a lovely group of flowers growing by a mountain rill and stopped again to photograph them. I could identify some: Moss Campion, Spirea, ferns, wasn't sure about the pink flower, but it was a refreshing scene. Time to shed my cotton sweater. I plodded on, wondering when I'd get a glimpse of Sperry Chalet.

Sperry Chalet from the trail below.

Several switchbacks later, I finally caught sight of Sperry Chalet way above. It looked so near, and yet, when I took in the trail that lay ahead, I could see how it wound around the mountain side to my left--it was still quite a ways away, probably a mile and a half, perhaps two. By this time I was drenched in sweat. The long-sleeved T-shirt I was wearing was black, and absorbed so much heat! I shed that and slogged on in my remaining layer: a sweat-soaked short sleeved T-shirt.

I was beyond looking at flowers at this point--all I wanted to do was to get this torture over--if I could only fly! My hiking poles were the only thing keeping me going: I pulled myself over the rocky dikes and boulders huffing and puffing with every agonizing step.

Sprague Creek flowing through the cirque.

Several long, steep inclines and then a valley with a flowing stream and waterfalls opened up. It was tempting to take off my boots and cool my aching feet in the stream, but a glance at my watch--about three o'clock--was enough to dissuade me. I'd been on the trail for about six and a half hours now, and if I didn't arrive soon, Kevin and the staff at Sperry Chalet would begin to worry about me.

I could see the Chalet was very close now, yet thinking that my eyes could be deceiving, I asked a hiker sitting by the stream if he knew how much farther it was. I had another two-tenths of a mile to go, he replied. In a glen past the bridge I saw a sign for Sperry Glacier pointing to the left and Sperry Chalet to the right. Here at least there were some firs casting a bit of welcome shade over the trail. Even so, that last home stretch seemed interminable.

When I finally reached the door of the dining room around three-thirty, I was welcomed warmly by a tall lady who urged me to come in, sit down, and offered me a glass of cold lemonade. Renee introduced herself as the manager of Sperry Chalet, and waited until I had recuperated before taking me farther up the hill to show me the lay of the land and my room. I should have asked her to take a photo of me at the moment of my arrival (I'm sure I looked a wreck, drenched from head to toe). It would have been a great comparison to the departure photo Kevin took--before and after photos--but I was so exhausted it didn't even enter my mind.

Sunday, July 6, 2014

Ice Mountain


Twin flower (Linnaea borealis) and partridgeberry (Mitchella repens).

A few Sundays ago I visited a most unusual site with the Piedmont Chapter of the Virginia Native Plant Society (VNPS). Ice Mountain Preserve in West Virginia, now owned by the Nature Conservancy, is one of the weirdest places around--a naturally-occurring refrigerator! At the bottom of an algific (cold-producing) talus slope, air is drawn in thru vents, and insulated by a layer of very thick sandstone blocks underneath, the air is cooled, causing ice to form inside small cavities on the side of the hill. The cold air flowing from these vents creates a micro-climate on one side of the trail, where plants normally found in sub-artic regions such as northern Canada can flourish. This site has been designated as a natural heritage site; access is restricted and arrangements must be made to visit with a guide.

Our group met at the Old Inn in North River Mills, a small town that used to number a few hundred back in the 19th Century and gradually depopulated until only one inhabitant remains at present. Our guide and docent, Kristin, told us that back in the 19th Century the local inhabitants used to gather the blocks of ice during summer to cool drinks and make ice cream. Unfortunately this practice depleted much of the ice in the crevices, but some ice can still be found.

Ice inside a cavity at Ice Mountain

Storm clouds had been gathering as I drove to the site. As we were starting out on the trail, a peal of thunder warned of the storm's approach, and our group decided to return to the inn and wait until it had passed. A wise decision, as we would have been completely soaked had we continued. Kristin entertained us with stories of the inn, and we explored the interior while waiting for the skies to clear.

Eventually, the rain stopped and we started out again. The path led up a hill, and through woods carpeted with understory plants such as bedstraw, black cohosh, southern beech fern and maidenhair fern, some of which I recognized from previous encounters, but many plants here were new to me, such as this Appalachian wood fern.

Appalachian wood fern (Gymnocarpium appalachianum)

The Cacapon River

As we descended the other side of the hill and rounded a bend, the path began to parallel the Cacapon River. We were asked to walk single file on the trail, in order to protect the fragile vegetation. Wending our way through a forest of huge Rosebay rhododendrum (Rhododendrum maximum) which would probably not bloom until July, the temperature became perceptibly cooler as we reached the talus slope.

Hiking through a forest of rhododendron.


Ice Mountain mist

Mist wafted from the cavities along the base of the talus slope. One of the group had brought a thermometer which we placed inside one of the small cavities. It was about 80 degrees ambient that day, but inside the cavity the thermometer read 38 degrees. Ice could be seen inside one of the larger cavities.

Ice Mountain crevices

The rare plants began to appear on the side of the trail with the crevices: Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis), Canada Mayflower (Maianthemum canadense), Minnie-bush (Menziesia pilosa), Nannyberry (Viburnum lentago), Late low blueberry (Vaccinium pallidum), and many more that I missed, being too far behind our docent. The range of botanical oddities was impressive.
 
Bunchberry (Cornus canadensis)
Canada mayflower (Maianthemum canadense)
Late low blueberry (Vaccinium pallidum).

We came across the lovely twin flower (Linnaea borealis) growing in amazing profusion over just one section of the trail. This low creeper grew intertwined with Partridgeberry, Canada Mayflower, Bunchberry and mosses along the ground. A lone specimen of the Prickly rose (Rosa acicularis) was so precarious it had been protected from browsing animals behind a small fenced enclosure.

Twinflower grows profusely over the rocks.
Prickly rose (Rosa acicularis) behind fence.

Our docent Kristin told us that genetic studies of the boreal plants at this site revealed that this group of plants were likely the remnants of vegetation left from the last Ice Age that retreated about 10,000 years ago. Unlike we humans, who can only inherit one set of chromosomes from each parent (haploid), plants, particularly ferns and other flowering plants are capable of inheriting more than one set of chromosomes from each parent to become polyploid. This process happens as plants reproduce over a number of generations, whereas early generations tend to have only two sets of chromosomes, which the plants here were found to have.

Beyond the patch of Twinflower we came across a flowering clump of Northern bedstraw (Gallium boreale), Skunk currant (Ribes glandulosum) and Horsetail clubmosses (Equisetum arvense). The afternoon was waning, so reluctantly, our group started the trek back to the inn. I would have liked to climb up to the top of the hill to observe the ravens nesting there (I had seen them while driving in) but by then my feet had given out. It was time to head home.

Northern bedstraw (Gallium boreale)

Horsetail clubmoss (Equisetum arvense) and witch hazel seedlings.
Skunk currant (Ribes Glandulosum)

I hope to eventually find time to paint the tiny and exquisite Twinflower, so unique and beautiful!