Fall Garden Interlude

Swamp Sunflower (Helianthus angustifolia) with Russian sage (Perovskia).

As a break from the postings of my Montana adventures, today I wanted to post a bit about this year's late summer and fall garden and share photos of some of my flowers. Most of my plant purchases from late spring (and even one from the previous fall) had been held over in large pots during the summer, since my travels and the merciless biting bugs had not allowed much time for planting them earlier.

Plants awaiting new homes.

This fall has been the warmest since we moved to this area, with very spotty rain, so the first focus of my fall gardening frenzy was to get all these plants in the ground. This meant expanding my flower beds considerably to accommodate them. I'd bought a dwarf butterfly bush (Buddleia) with pale lilac flowers and a spirea (was it coincidence? I didn't know I would encounter so many of these plants in Glacier N.P., but now this plant will remind me of those others).

The Little Indians border in October.

Planting the Buddleia and the Spirea.

I decided to put the Buddleia and the Spirea towards the back of the Little Indians bed, near the Asclepias, in hopes of attracting more butterflies to the back yard. The Aster laevis which had been eaten to the ground by deer the previous year, finally bloomed, thanks to the garlic spray I've been using, as well as the camouflage the Asclepias provided. Finally, a few butterflies are starting to show up!

Buckeye butterfly (Junonia coenia) on Itea bush.

This shot looking at the east side of the house gives a good idea of the expansion that has taken place during this year's growing season. If only I could speed up the growth more! But Nature has its limits, even with lots of fertilizer.
 

The east garden.

 

Viburnum 'Brandywine' with Gaillardias

I'm partial to the berries of this variety of Viburnum 'Brandywine' at the stage where the berries start turning pink. As the season progresses the berries gradually turn blue. 

Backyard bed with pink dogwood and hibiscus.

The bed I laid out in the back yard last year is developing nicely--the pink Kousa dogwood 'Rosy Teacups' has gained a couple of feet in height and width (with protection from deer depredations), but the star of this summer was the pink hibiscus that our neighbors gave me, grown from seed from their plants.

Pink Hibiscus (Hibiscus moscheutus)

Such a knock-out color! This variety of hardy hibiscus can be deceptive--it dies back over the winter and is very late to start growth in the spring, so for a while I thought it was dead. Good thing I left it alone, it eventually re-grew. I like it so much I bought another one this fall, a white variety with a red center. They're wonderful flowers that blossom at a time when very little else is blooming. 

Pink Asian lily with Bouteloua grass clump

This bed was also planted with about a dozen Asiatic lilies, but I'm afraid I got this bargain purchase in the ground a bit late, and they didn't grow until late in the summer--one plant actually bloomed in late September, but the rest, despite a few buds, were too late to open before the first frost cut them down a week ago. The ornamental grass Bouteloua 'Blonde Ambition' in front of the lily is another plant that has been struggling in my garden, but it seems to be making some progress. Perhaps next summer I'll see an explosion of bloom in this bed. There's still so much empty space to fill...

Back yard looking east.

To remedy that I bought another bunch of native perennials at the Arboretum's Arborfest, including more of the lovely Swamp Sunflower, and asters. I'm currently working to plant those, along with more spring flowering bulbs, before it gets too cold to work outside.

First Day at Sperry Chalet

Handsome goat grazing by the chalet.

That first evening  at Sperry Chalet, I was introduced to the rituals: the dining room closed between four thirty and six for the staff to prepare our meal. At six o'clock the door opened and the guests began to seat themselves at the places marked with their names. There were eight tables, some seating large parties of ten to twelve, other tables for smaller parties of four to six, and one small table for two. I looked for my name and found myself at the far end of the first table, among ten others, near me two were couples, the rest were a family group.

The main course rotated every three days: roast beef, chicken and turkey with the trimmings (I'd been warned that the food could get a bit monotonous). The staff joked that they lost track of the days of the week during the eleven-week season, since the work schedule was pretty much the same every day except for some afternoon time off every nine days, but they marked the days by whether it was chicken, turkey or roast beef day.

A good hot meal with home-baked bread and dessert is such a luxury after the long hard hike uphill, it was welcomed enthusiastically by all, and the company was congenial. Strangers introduced themselves and shared their experiences of the day easily, seeing this or that animal, memories of previous visits to Sperry, or similar environments, all interesting and amusing.

After dessert had been served, the staff would introduce themselves, each giving a helpful hint or tip about Sperry Chalet--the thin walls of the chalet therefore the necessity for quiet hours at night; prohibitions about flames near the buildings and what to do in case of a fire alarm; warnings not to leave our possessions within reach of the goats and marmots who could make off with them and chew them up for the salt they craved; they had flashlights available for those who hadn't brought any (there is no electricity at Sperry Chalet), and coffee hour between 8 and ten, when the gas lamps in the dining room were lit for reading and games.

Sperry Chalet

Each evening Renee read a paragraph or two from "Avalanche," the memoirs of Dr. Lyman's Sperry's nephew Albert about the expeditions exploring this area in the 1890's in search for a route to the glacier that bears Sperry's name.

After the staff intros, the guests were asked to introduce themselves, one person from each party. I had been asked to introduce myself as Sperry Chalet's Resident Artist for the season, and I mentioned that I was from the east coast and this was my first time in Montana.

That first evening I turned in early. The next morning I saw a family of mountain goats grazing just below the wooden railings when I came down to use the communal bathroom building down the hill. The goats moved out of the way to allow passage but they were not afraid--this was their turf and they appeared to be used to humans.

Communal bathroom at Sperry.

After a hearty breakfast I walked around to explore the immediate surroundings. There were a few flowering spikes of Bear grass near the Chalet. I went up to my room and brought my working kit down to work on the first study of this unfamiliar plant.

Bear grass pencil drawing.

A simple a pencil sketch is the way I usually learn about a plant: how the leaves and flower stalk are put together, the individual flower, the stigma and ovary, the anther. Xerophyllum tenax is the botanical name. Multiples of three indicate this is a member of the lily family. This particular spike was in the early stages of flowering. As I had observed in other locations of the park, the stalk would gradually elongate as the flowers continued to open until it formed an oval shape.

Xerophyllum tenax, early stage

My sketch filled the rest of the morning. I'd look for other flowering stalks later on when I was ready to do a color rendering; for now this one was just right.

The staff usually prepared bag lunches for all the guests, since they assumed everyone would be hiking during the day. On my first day I was too tired to wander very far so I stayed around to try one of Sperry's famous grilled cheese sandwiches for lunch--it was just wonderful on the homemade bread with a bit of soup on the side.

During lunch I had the opportunity to chat with the horse wrangler who had brought up a party of riders to Sperry Chalet. Stephen turned out to be a young man from Georgia, a college grad, who had started working as a manager for a construction company. He loved the outdoors and after a trip to Montana decided to move here to work at the stables of the Lake MacDonald Hotel during the season. He confided that he'd seen the documentary "Unbranded" five times! I could definitely empathize... wondered if he'd stick to his decision for a lifetime or if at some point he'll have had enough of this precarious outdoor life and go back to what his parents I'm sure had hoped for him.

In the afternoon I ventured back down the hill to sketch the Glacier Lilies under the subalpine firs. These were growing on a steep bank along the trail. One of the guests walking by offered and took the photos here--the lighting is a little weird in the first one.

Sketching the Glacier Lilies

Glacier Lily sketch (Erythronium grandiflora)

It was providential to have chosen to sketch the Glacier Lily on my first day--their blooming season is so short that a week later all of the flowers had disappeared! I learned that the starchy bulbs of the lilies are a favorite food of grizzlies and they will dig up entire patches of them to feed. Fortunately, the bears miss enough of the tubers that the patches can regrow.

A few days later I met a lady who stayed overnight with a good-sized group, and asked to buy my Glacier lily sketch. Peggy worked as a guide for Glacier Guides, and I agreed to sell her my sketch when I got back home. I never did take a photo of my finished color pencil sketch before shipping it to her, what a pity!

The insects were already very annoying (even with repellent spray), and even so more after dinner, when I tried to to do a small sketch of the view from Sperry in the setting sun. This is as far as I got before I had to run for cover.

Evening View from Sperry Chalet, watercolor, 5" x 8."

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.

The Garden Wall II

Jessica Stickseed (Hackelia micrantha).

Other delightful surprises kept showing up along the trail: blue forget-me-not like flowers (Hackelia micrantha), a wild clematis with drooping blue flowers (Clematis occidentalis), so many other flowers that I couldn't begin to guess at! I wish I could have had an expert botanist with me, I'm sure one could have pointed out so much more than I could take in.

Native clematis (Clematis occidentalis)

Along the trail.

Mountain Death Camas (Anticlea elegans)

Going to the Sun Road below the trail.

As the trail wound around thickets of subalpine firs and some very steep hillsides, it was now several hundred feet above the Going to the Sun Road. The lush vegetation of the Garden Wall began to thin out and become more like grassland. Fields of bear grass in bloom dotted the slopes.

Looking towards Haystack Butte.

Looking down a chute.

looking toward Haystack Butte.

I hadn't encountered any hikers for a while, and it had stopped raining when I turned around and saw this tiny creature on the trail right behind me. I'm still trying to figure if it was a Pika, a small mammal that inhabits high-altitude meadows in the Rockies, or a baby chipmunk or vole of some sort (the coloring looks much like a chipmunk but it's lacking the characteristic stripes).

A tiny inhabitant of the Highline Trail.

Pika or chipmunk?

I held still while the tiny-eared creature grazed on the vegetation around the trail briefly and then disappeared into the brush. I gazed at my watch--it was getting towards four o'clock. I had intended to reach Haystack Falls before turning back, but I needed to turn around now to get back in time to return my rental car before they closed at six.

Looking up.

Reluctantly I turned back. Other hikers returning from Haystack Falls passed me. I stopped now and then to take more photos.

Wildflowers on the Garden Wall.

Wild onion (Allium schoenoprasum)

This was the last photo I took before my camera froze up. The shutter would not focus or shoot, and when I tried to see the other photos I had taken, it would not change modes. Oh-no!  What was I going to do without a camera, and this early into my trip? I had two weeks ahead at Sperry Chalet--how was I going to get the photos I needed? How could I have been so stupid? 

Well, there was nothing I could do for now. Perhaps when the camera dried out it would go back to normal, or I could find a store in Columbia Falls where I could get it fixed quickly. But on a Saturday evening, the chances were slim. I passed a couple of Japanese tourists with very fancy camera rigs and was tempted to offer to buy one of their cameras, but they didn't understand enough English for me to even try.

I trudged on back towards my car. At least I'd gotten the hang of using the poles and my stride didn't feel so awkward as at the beginning of the hike. I drove back to the car rental place to call Kevin as prearranged. I explained the situation with my camera but he said he didn't know of any camera repair shop in town--there wasn't any store where I could make a quick purchase either. My only hope was to pray that the camera would dry overnight and work again.

That evening I tried to think of alternatives if the camera didn't go back to normal the next day. I called Herb and he thought perhaps he could buy me another camera the next day and ship it to Kevin overnight, and Kevin could send it up with the next mule train that would resupply the chalet in another few days. I fell asleep praying this wouldn't be necessary...

The Garden Wall I

Mt. Oberlin in clouds.

I woke to the sound of rain, got up to look outside, and yes, it was pouring out there! I lingered over breakfast hoping the weather would clear up later on. Kevin stopped by and I gave him my three duffel bags and portfolio for tomorrow's mule pack train.

While waiting for the weather to improve, I caught up with my Email on the hotel's computer. Getting on towards ten, the rain stopped and it seemed to be clearing. Today might be the perfect day to hike at the Garden Wall, with the plants fresh after the rain.

It would be chilly up there, so I put on every layer of clothing I had kept (everything else was in the duffels I'd given Kevin earlier), and unpacked my new hiking poles. This would be a good time to get the hang of using them, in preparation for the grueling hike to Sperry Chalet tomorrow. I bought a sandwich at a carry-out along the way and drove up towards Logan Pass.

Driving up to Logan Pass

The clouds played hide-and-seek with the mountains, and today the Weeping Wall was a veritable torrent. With fewer hikers and tourists out, there were plenty of parking places at the Visitors Center at Logan Pass. I ate half my sandwich in the car and then suited up for the trail. The Highline Trail, as it's called, begins at a meadow on the other side of the road by the parking lot at Logan Pass. It crosses a steep talus slope and then the trail continues above the Going to the Sun Road, which gradually drops down. All along this stretch the Highline trail is visible as a ledge running parallel several hundred feet above the road.

Looking down from the Highline Trail.

I steeled my nerves to look down from this precarious ledge to the road below, trying to reassure myself that my hiking poles would hold me steady. It was so narrow it would have been difficult to pass another person at this spot. 

The beginning of the Garden Wall

Once past this, the beginning of the Garden Wall was marked by rills periodically cascading down from the heights above and a profusion of plants unlike anything I'd ever seen. Plants grew anywhere the terrain gave them any kind of purchase.

Rocky Mountain Columbines (Aquilegia flavescens) under a ledge.

Black Twinberry (Lonicera involucrata)

I passed a lovely clump of Rocky Mountain Columbines (Aquilegia flavescens) growing under a moist ledge. Further on a golden twin flower covered by a purplish bract peeked out under a shrub, which I learned later was a native honeysuckle called Bearberrry or Black Twinberry (Lonicera involucrata).

Arctic Willow (Salix arctica)

Looking across the valley.

As I walked along I alternated between looking down at the plants and the spectacular views across the valley. The sun almost broke out once and then a veil moved across-- a steady rain started.

Rain moving in.

The Garden Wall

I pulled up the hood of my parka under my hat, and managed to keep fairly dry, but after a while my wool Tilley hat became completely soaked and droplets began to drip off the edge of the brim whenever I leaned over to look at or photograph the plants. I tried to keep my camera dry but it was almost impossible.

Mist on the Garden Wall.

In places the rocky ledge the trail ran on widened a bit and subalpine firs grew, giving some shelter from the wind. An incredible variety of species took advantage of the shelter--it truly seemed like a spring garden here.

Bracted Lousewort buds (Pedicularis bracteosa).

Twisted-Stalk (Streptopus amplexiflolius)

So many of the plants were completely new to me, though there were some I could guess at--these plants had eastern relatives that I was familiar with, or they were the native versions of cultivated garden plants--like Spirea, that I was well-acquainted with. Others, like the Bracted Lousewort, I had seen before on previous trips through the Rocky Mountains.

The leaves of the one above, Twisted-Stalk, looked very like Solomon's Seal, but the flowers were quite different. Some, like the False Solomon's Seal below, or the False Hellebore or Corn Lily (Veratum viride) seemed to be the same species that are also found in the east.

False Solomon's Seal (Maiamthemum racemosa) and blue Stickseed.