Above my cabin door in Packers Gulch is a weather-and-time-worn, but artistic, wooden sign that says “Wolf Den.” It is there not to discourage visitors, nor to scare away evil spirits, but as a proud display of a treasured souvenir from a distant mountain peak where it graced the entrance to a doorway that is now more battered and out of plumb than my own.
Ben and Lola, a pair of mountain-loving, dune-dwelling friends of mine, who make their home on lower Pistol River, south of Gold Beach, have a small reservoir of friends down in their section of the coast who are not only sympathetic to our ideas of getting a lot of fun and satisfaction out of life, but who join right in with us from time to time and help to make real lively parties of our nature jaunts in the mountains.
August 27, 1964 On the north side of Sanger Peak a little newly-budded wildplant is probably wondering what has become of me. Last Wednesday I had an appointment with the unfamiliar-looking little rascal, which had just emerged from under the snow when I saw it…
My love for this sort of thing is so great that at times in hiking on these old dream-inspiring mountain trails. I find it almost impossible to stop until weariness prevents me from going on, and more than once I have been caught in the dark a long way from camp or home. I call this reckless urge the trail raptures.
To botanize the extreme western end of the Siskiyous, or to explore them for future botanical incursions at appropriate seasons, the best approach is from the ocean side, up the various rivers that penetrate deeply into the famously rugged Curry County of Oregon and California’s Del Norte County – the Rogue, Pistol River; the Chetco, Winchuck and Smith Rivers.
Ten years ago, on the densely wooded, nearly brushless shore of Kelly Lake, on the Indian Creek drainage below Poker Flat, I found an odd little saprophyte growing in the forest mold that somewhat resembled the snow plant, except that it was whitish instead of red.
Albinism, or rare off-coloring, among wildflowers isn’t too common but does occur occasionally in most wildplant species. In many species color varies normally from purple or blue to pure white, as in the low-growing alpine phlox, a thoroughly established resident of Rough and Ready Park, which is usually purple to blue but sometimes white; or the delicately beautiful Lee’s lewisia, which is mostly a solid purple but occasionally turns up the purest white.
One day last week I made a decision that, before the day was ended, set me to wondering if sometimes it isn’t best to look before you pounce. The methodical, businesslike way of going about our daily experiences is by way of careful planning and logical preparation, I suppose; but such a staid and meticulous way of living is sure to eliminate the many little thrills and surprises we find waiting around the various corners when we indulge in a more haphazard and impetuous method of progression.
One of our native orchids that is somewhat similar to and nearly as beautiful as the ladyslippers is the shy and fascinating stream orchid, or chatterbox. A water lover, sparsely located about the valley along stream banks, only a fortunate few wildflower admirers have the privilege of encountering and enjoying this trim and lovely orchid.