Plant Hunting Along the Beaches of the Southern Oregon Coast

Lovely rustic yurt courtesy of the Oregon Parks and Recreation Department, Harris Beach State Park, near Brookings, Oregon. (These begin at $39 per night.)

Waking up in my yurt to the sound of the rain tap tap tapping was not an ideal way to spend my spring break, but I am an Oregonian so I was more than prepared to deal with it. With my old sleeping bag from back when I used to backpack up mountainsides, and a Pendleton blanket with a big salmon on it that my dad had given me, I had slept very well the night before and I was ready to head out for an expedition of my own. My plan was to drive at whatever pace I felt like to my next destination, and to have fun and to relax while doing so. I had no idea which native plants I would see because I'd promised myself not to plan this all out in advance. I was just going to look at whatever I could find and make note of it. I also took along not only my handy digital camera, but a Holga and a funky Japanese camera too. With some special film inside, those other cameras should turn out some great images, but of course, I have to wait for those to be developed. I can wait.

Our large trees can become very dangerous during the winter months especially when the waves are unpredictable.

The last time I drove through Brookings it was Thanksgiving 2009 and my husband and I were driving to Gold Beach for the night. As we flew into town I saw a sign for an Azalea Park and that was news to me! I thought I knew about all of the plant parks so I vowed to return. Over a year later, there I was last week, after having visited the harbor for some coffee for the road.

The ancient native azaleas in this thirty-three acre park have been here since Lewis and Clark visited—what was to later become the state of Oregon—back during the winter of 1805-1806. (Sure the Lewis and Clark Expedition was nowhere near these shrubs, but that's a long time for a shrub to live so it should be noted I guess.)

No one really noticed or cared much for this stand of plants until 1937 when inspired folks cleared the old pastures, removing the overgrown vines, and later petitioned to have the native shrubs designated as a State Park. From 1939-1993 their wish was granted, but then in 1993, ownership and maintenance of the park reverted to the City of Brookings. Since then, it has been revitalized, with many new additions, and it is currently looking absolutely wonderful.

                





The group of volunteers that has stepped in to care for the park has done so because there are five varieties of endangered native Azaleas here. They knew what a treasure this is, and thanks to them, we still have these plants to enjoy.

I was only a bit sad that the plants are not labeled at all, but it may be done in an effort to keep people like me from snipping at them. I am unable to find information about the actual plants online, and I would love to know more about all of them, and genetically what makes them special, but as for as I can tell, the only native azalea is the Western Azalea (Rhododendron occidentale) so these must all be different natural varieties of the same plant. Curiouser and curiouser... Yes, now I see it all clearly. The link really helped.

The next stop was the Pistol River and its wayside. I had to stop there because it had been the name of my yurt the night before. Not only did I have the whole vista to myself that morning but, lucky me, I found some random plants sitting here and there not far from the car. I also found a bit of history.

When I read this Oregon History sign I thought again of genealogical history but this time it was my husband's and not mine. At the time this skirmish occurred, during March of 1856, my husband's French Canadian ancestors had already been busy in the West for quite some time and had already made history themselves. Ten years beforehand, a relative of my husband's was also attacked and killed in Southern Oregon, but it was while he was camped on Klamath Lake in the interior with an expedition party. One month later that same group was back in California taking part in the Bear Flag Revolt in a very strange moment in the history of California.

Basil LaJeunesse was killed while the group slept beside the lake one night. It was an Indian attack and he received a hatchet to the head on May 9th, of 1846. Asleep beside him was his dear friend and expedition companion, Kit Carson. Yes, it was that Kit Carson.

Working with John Frémont, the American military officer and explorer, they'd both been hired to travel to California along with a group of fifty-three other men by the President of the US. It was officially an exploration party, but in reality, they were being hired to spy on the Mexican government in California. The Mexican officials figured it out and they were asked to leave. That's how they ended up just over the border in Oregon Territory. That night Frémont had forgotten to post a guard because he was waiting to receive word from the President as to how to proceed with California since at that time, they'd expected a fight with Mexico. The fight never occurred.

Back home in Wyoming, Basil's older brother married a Shoshone woman from Southern Oregon and he opened up a trading post named in his brother's memory. Fort Seminoe (after his brother's Catholic baptismal name) operated from 1852-1855. The Oregon Trail went right past their front door as did the Mormon and California Trails. (Four of my great-great-great grandparents walked right past Charles and his wife on their way from Kentucky to Oregon and if they'd only known someday I would marry one of their descendants I cannot imagine what they would have thought.) Eventually, as tensions with the Natives Americans grew, Charles was forced to hand the fort to the Sioux in 1855 and during the same Indian War era, he left to work as a tracker, and was killed somewhere on the Yellowstone River. His body was never found but each year tourists and fly fishermen flock there like geese. It is still hard for me to blend these two different histories of a place together since they honestly slammed together rather quickly during the last few generations but I am working on it. The fact that my father has made a life for himself as a well-known fly fisherman has only served to convolute this whole funny reality even more.

I own a copy of the journal Frémont wrote during that fateful expedition and it has great plant descriptions throughout. It is kind of a nice read to be honest, but it is still shocking to have learned all of this about my husband's past and to tie him to historic characters mentioned in books is still strange.

Due to adoption, none of this information was known until recently. All I can say is that it is hard to change how you see your place in the world when you are in your 30s. One day you know your story, then the next, well, you're simply forced into becoming a different person. Going through this experience with him has been fascinating but it is slow going.

I return to plants again, and though the tangent may seem a bit off, I hope you enjoyed it. More bits and pieces will appear from time to time. 

Coastal Strawberry (Fragaria chiloensis).

I don't know what this is either but it was hanging in up high above the ocean so I figured I should include it too.

This must be some kind of Manzanita. 

I have no idea what this is, but I am sure that one of my friends will let me know. 

I'm not sure how long it was before I stopped again, but I did not too far down the road. The ocean was amazing that day and I was beginning to get more and more excited about all of the plantlife I was finding all over the place. In so many ways, I was really happy that day. After a long winter, and a lot of medical issues, that day was just the right thing. 

I have no idea what this was, or if it was even native, but it was there.

This is some kind of Lupine with a grass.

Sea Pink (Armeria maritima).

Just off the highway and all to myself.

When I landed in Gold Beach, I pulled over to take these pictures for those of you who have not yet seen what we have here in Oregon for our tsunami public education signage. I like the signs a lot and am happy that public safety efforts have started in our state, but we are far from ready. When the earthquake hit Japan just a few weeks ago many of us already understood that meant to take cover and to use caution but we were certainly not ready for anything.

Luckily we were not wiped out, but we will eventually begin finding the debris from Japan on our coastline. It is expected to arrive in 3 years but it may only take 1 year.

I am fairly confident that the mess will arrive here just as the many fishing floats have for years and years. Beachcombers have always cherished the blown glass objets d'art but something really different is heading our way now.

Just down the road at the beach I discovered this nice little piece of ingenuity. When I was a girl, I used to make shelters like this with my friends and their families. At camp, we also learned how to make ones with tree boughs for a roof. Transported to any garden setting, this would be really wonderful, especially in a stumpery.

A wind shelter, Gold Beach, Oregon.

This is why I was really there though. Like many others, I drive to this part of our coast for the rocks—the beautiful rocks that I handpick for my garden.

Agate hunting, Gold Beach, Oregon.

After loading up the reuseable grocery bags I jumped back into the car and headed north. Again, I randomly selected several waysides and parks and was delighted by all of the additional plants I was able to spot that day.

Oregon Myrtle or California Bay (Umbellularia californica).

I am not completely sure of the mix here, but there are at least three native plants I can spot I just cannot recall all of their names right now.

Ok. It was a grave wayside. Again, the Native Americans are blamed as having massacred but I have such a hard time with that since we were taking all of their land and resources away from them. Still a very touchy subject for many Americans and when you see things like this you really have to stop and wonder. I am sorry they lost their lives, but I am glad that this park was set aside for us to sit and think about this dark part of our history.  

Not sure of ID, but it is really pretty.

Yellow Prairie Violet (Viola praemorsa).

Rattlesnake Plantain or Rattlesnake Orchid (Goodyera oblongifolia).

Red Flowering Currant (Ribes sanguineum).

Stuff that looks like Kraft Macaroni and Cheese but it is actually something slimy growing on the tree.

Skunk Cabbage (Lysichiton americanus).

Sweet Coltsfoot (Petasites frigidus). 

Non-native Teasel (Dipsacus fullonum).

Unknown Oxalis.

Rock collecting opportunities.

This is the only native Sedum spathulifolium 'Cape Blanco' that I ran across and it was on a suicide mission in the sand so I liberated it to higher ground. This is a really slow-growing sedum at my house for some reason but I have no idea how one kind can grow so quickly and another slowly. 

Unknown coastal pine.

Evergreen Huckleberry. I HIGHLY recommend these bushes for their berries.  (Vaccinium ovatum).

Not sure if this is Usnea lichen but it looks like it. This is not moss. If we have 20 words for rain in the NW, we have at least 200 names for different kinds of creepy things that grow on trees. 

It's another Oregon Myrtle though I prefer Headache Tree because it is so strongly scented. (Umbellularia californica).

Salal (Gaultheria shallon).

Red Flowering Currant (Ribes sanguineum).

Ocean of non-native Gorse (Ulex europaeus).

Stand of native Pacific Coast Iris on a hill facing the Pacific Ocean (Iris douglasiana).

Not sure exactly exactly what this is. 

Cannot remember the name but this one is familiar.

Female Coast Silk Tassel shrub (Garrya elliptica). The male catkins are much showier and longer and often show up in photos. I tried to find some, but all that was available were the female catkins which were still clinging to ripe seeds from last year. Impressive and fruitful.  

I have no idea what this fern-like thing was that I found growing in a flooded meadow. Any hints botanical buddies??

Bearberry of Twinberry Honeysuckle (Lonicera involucrata var. ledebourii). These are pretty plentiful all along the way but nevertheless I kept finding myself wanting to take picture after picture of their little blooms.

Some of the last flower pictures I snapped were of these two lovelies. I am pretty sure the are Clarkia, but I really cannot figure out which one they are. Maybe someone just tossed seeds out the window to see if they would grow down at the coast in a pretty harsh environment where a river meets the ocean. They looked native to me though.

As I rolled into Coos Bay I was greeted by the sight below. Part of me could not help but think of the movie The Goonies and my thoughts went up Highway 101 to Astoria. What a great day I had and right now I really wish I was back on the road.

Yup, I Wrote a Book About Logging and Now I Want to Talk About Driving through the Coastal Redwoods of California

There! I've said it and it's out there in the open—finally. Now I can continue on with my native plants but I had to let that out to explain why I love trees so much, and logging. My drive from the vineyard to Brookings, Oregon had me thinking a lot about trees and of my family history.

I may be an Italian-American, a descendant of New Amsterdam, and of early Southern tobacco growing colonists, but my Mama's people, several of them were loggers out here in the West beginning with Hastin Butcher. After he'd worked as an Indian Agent in Oklahoma, the American Civil War vet moved to California to find his fortune in the Big Timber. His daughter married several loggers, and her son Bill became one too, and he was my grandfather. My grandmother remarried, and my step-grandfather was a logger and a proud union man as well.

As I left Lake County to head toward Mendocino and Humboldt counties, that feeling of homecoming was upon me. As soon as I saw the trees, I relaxed. That's always what happens and it's when I think about the logging book the most.

When I was 18, I published a book. Really it was a collection of historic logging photographs that I essentially curated and then wrote captions for to create the narrative. My father published the book and it sold out in a few years and it is currently out-of-print. I really hate the name, but I need to complete my confession so here is a link: Ancient Forests and Western Man. 

Anyone who knows me knows that I love my timber. At the first rest stop I was shocked, amazed and delighted to discover that someone is making modern faux bois fences that look really great. I wonder if it was someone who'd been retrained to work in masonry after the mill closed? That would be priceless.

Contemporary faux bois fence. 

There is nothing like standing beside a Sequoia sempervirens aka a California redwood. These trees can live for 1200-1800 years, reaching up to 379 feet (115.52 m) and they can be as wide as 26 feet (7.9 m). It is safe to say that these trees are truly breathtaking.

Note the size of the car to the right of the tree. This tree is huge. 

Taking photographs of trees has been something I have been puzzled by for years. I like little flowers on perennials much more. Even landscapes are easier than this. Trees are really difficult to capture, especially ones this tall.

I would hug this tree, if there were about 25 of me to encircle the behemoth. 

Due to a time crunch, I was not able to hunt as many plants as I'd wanted to, but since this was my first exploratory mission in many years I decided that any great plant matter found on this trip was a bonus since I really did not expect much. Little did I know how many amazing plants I'd find over the next few days.

First off was the Fetid Adders Tongue (Scoliopus bigelovii). I wish I'd caught the plant in bloom but maybe next time I will have better luck! They are plentiful in Northern California in dark, shady, and damp areas. These were found just off Highway 101 and I plan to keep watching them over time to see what they do. So far, I am a huge fan.

Fetid Adders Tongue (Scoliopus bigelovii).

Not far away I found this lovely native Oxalis. On the forest floor this carpet seemed magical in a way I'd never seen before. The size of the trees made the plant appear tiny and somehow this made the whole forest feel more magical. I could hear the Eel River nearby, and I could see the leaves wiggle as if blown by some breeze I didn't feel, and the giant trees blanketed out so many other sounds I would have expected to have heard at home in the woods.

Redwood Sorrel, Oregon Oxalis (Oxalis oregana).

Walk-thru Redwood Tree.

After the long drive through the woods, eventually I ended up near the coast and the towns of Eureka and Arcata on Humboldt Bay. Seeing this bus cracked me up because it is something you only see in certain areas of the NW and California. I may not take part in this lifestyle, but I get it. Part of me is actually curious about what kind of expedition this is here. 

Back on the Hippie Highway: It's not about where you are or where you're going. It's a state of mind.
(They are probably migrating north to Oregon for the spring & summer.) 

I drove through a Roosevelt elk refuge after that and I was really having fun by then. It if pretty funny to have to wait for a herd of elk to cross the road right in front of your car. They are amazing animals especially when the largest males have nice racks on their noggins.

I drove as fast as I could to get to my favorite beach, and I made it.

I sat there, taking pictures, and my thoughts went out to Japan.

When I went up the hillside, and looked out at the ocean, I said some prayers to those who'd lost their lives in the tsunami. We share the same ocean. I studied the trees' silhouettes and could not quite put my finger on why their outlines were so beautiful. So much I'd seen that day was beautiful and I was truly heart happy.

I kept driving north that night in the dark to my campground, making it through the last large stand of redwoods in the dark. I drove through lily fields and cow pastures before reaching the Oregon border. In the dark, I watched as the border agents questioned folks heading south into California. "Do you have any fruit or plants?" 

How a Gardener Sees the Wine Grape

Introductory Thoughts:

During my most recent trip to California I was asked by a friend what my relationship to the grape was and I didn't really have an answer for him. At the time Quarryhill Botanical Garden was all around me and for some reason I just wasn't thinking clearly. A few days later we were at the vineyard, just before I was about to leave to travel north alone, and this is how I saw it but I still really don't know how I see the grape. I think I should have said that I see everything around the grape, but not the grape. Deep down in my heart, I know I don't have to think about the grapes since people are paid to worry about their needs already, and I am just not part of that process. It is funny though that I do not see them as I see all of the other parts. I see the vines, I note the pruning, and I care about the winemaking process, so I am not a complete tourist, but I truly do ignore the grapes. Since I cannot drink alcohol without getting terribly sick, this is part of it, but I hope that isn't simply an excuse. I guess this year I should get to know the grape better.

Unknown Arctostaphlos.

Vineyard Walk with Mr B

On the way out to deliver my bags to the car, we both saw this tree and were drawn to it. I have a thing for what we call manzanita, madrone and/or Arctostaphlos. So far, this is the only one at my father-in-law's house we've found and both my husband and I stared lovingly at it for sometime together as we began our walk around the 10 acres before I left for home a few days ago. The deeper the color of the bark, the more we're drawn to it for some reason. There is a skin-like leathery-ness and the quality is really kind of mesmerizing. Whenever we go on garden tours or for drives in CA, we always seem to look for it. 

Unknown Arctostaphlos.

Here is that same tree as it reaches for the sky. I will need to figure out which tree it is though and then attempt to propagate it. Plant junkies may not be able to take plant material into California, but you can take your plant matter out when you cross the border back into Oregon. I forgot to mention that makes plant shopping in California a lot easier, and I understand why they want to monitor those of us crossing the border.

The vineyard is located in Lake County, CA, an area that essentially surrounds Clear Lake, the largest natural freshwater lake in California. Sadly, the lake itself is heavily contaminated with mercury from an old closed mine that is now a Superfund site, but that fact certainly does not ruin all of the natural beauty surrounding the area. If anything, the beauty should encourage a quicker cleanup of the area.

Mt. Konocti as seen from Rosa d'Oro Vineyard. Small olive tree block is made up of Arbequina olive trees.

The area is volcanic and there are small faults nearby. The largest of the old volcanoes that encircle the lake is Mount Konocti and at 4,305 ft it can be seen from all over the area. Coming from the Northwestern Region of the United States I am very familiar with our volcanoes, but I find that I laugh at myself whenever I realize how easily interested I am in other peoples' volcanoes. I think it is the ecologist in me, trying to figure out how the nature of that ecosystem figures into the landscape, the plants, and in the case of what my husband is doing, growing wine grapes.

Since they are continuing to rip out the last vestiges of the old walnut orchard by having the massive trees taken out, it allows us to look into the soil quite a bit. Some of this actually helps to determine what kind of irrigation techniques they may want to play with and it gives them a much clearer idea of what to expect in terms of drainage. Without going into too much detail concerning the grapes and their grafting, the grape vine stock chosen has a two part methodology to it. Pick the wine grape you want to grow, and then pick the root stock to grow it on. Root stock is chosen by determining what you're growing the grapes in. In this case, we have heavy clay volcanic soil.

The great side-effect of all of this geological exploration is that it allows the gardener an opportunity to pick up some cool rocks. In this case, I am highlighting the obsidian that I picked up to bring home. It doesn't look sharp, but it is. It will get a special place in the garden and it will come with a safety warning for the foster kids. I really had a difficult time keeping them in the garden last year, so this year I have changed my angle. A dangerous rock made of volcanic glass seemed like something some of the kids would really like. It might even get a special box so that it will look that much more special. 

After looking through the rocks at one end of the property, we headed back to the plantings nearest the house so that Mr B could show my the gabion he'd made to accompany their sign by the highway. Before we arrived at that site, we had a lot of other stops and things to see.

Oldest block of grapes. 10 year old planting of Barbara or Sangiovese.

Gorgeous stand of Miner's Lettuce (Claytonia perfoliata). It is an edible Western native plant the name of which comes from the fact miners ate it for its Vitamin C in order to prevent scurvy. Back then, the citrus trees were not yet what they are today! That is so hard for me to fathom because it wasn't that long ago. 

Western Redbud buds (Cercis occidentalis). Native to California and the American Southwest Lake County is full of them but they were not yet in full bloom as the ones near Sacramento were. I regret not having been able to snap a photo of one of them. 

This is Squids the official Winery Cat. She is the least feral of the cats running around the house and she is a happy outdoor cat who eats snakes, mice and lizards during the summertime while following my husband around from task to task. 

I fell behind while hanging with the cat and this is Mr B waiting for his two ladies to join him. We both followed him around during that brief walk around the vineyard. It was nice to spend quality time with his other cat because I haven't been able to much before. I think he has domesticated her much more over the last few years.

Really nice big old vine. The outer pealing is normal. I was curious about that. The irrigation you see is part of a drip system. Growing in a fairly arid region, they have to limp the vines along with water from above not only due to expense, but due to the fact the vines must be encouraged to grow deeper and deeper tap roots. This helps over time to help the grapes to develop deep and richer taste, enriching their terroir. 

Unknown Eucalypus and bloom. Any thoughts? 

Unknown Eucalypus and bloom. Any thoughts?

Mr B and Squids.

New Lake County Wine Tour Signage. 

Gabion being made by my husband. So proud of his incorporation of native stones into this signage. If working around Frank Lloyd Wright ever taught me anything, it was the importance of including things from the surrounding native environment and culture into your new construction. 

So as you can, none of the grapes were out to discuss, but I suspect that during my next trip to California in the coming months there will be more to say on their behalf.