Saturday, March 14, 2026

Summer Wildflowers at my Local Ski Area

Well, there's not much photographically happening in my life lately.  I've been busy skiing at the usual local resorts that I visit year after year.  It hasn't been a stellar snow season so far, so my photo taking has not been as prolific as in years past.  Instead of beautiful snowy slopes, there's an abundance of bare patches and rocks sticking out - not really great lens candy.  That and I tend to capture the same scenery every year, and I'm sure you're all tired of seeing it on repeat.

So.....since I seem to have run out of current images to post, I'm turning back the pages to last summer when I made numerous hikes on Mt. Hood to capture an amazing beargrass superbloom.  Looking through my photo archives, I've come to realize there are lots of colorful wildflower photos from summer 2025 that have yet to be posted, just waiting for an opportunity to shine on my blog pages.  So here's the first installment:


A beautiful summer day on Mt. Hood!


Beargrass is a tall plant that produces a poofy white flower.  Their stalks sometimes resemble large Q-tips.  It's found in mountain meadows where bears are often present, and they are known to feed on the leaf bases.  Beargrass follows an irregular blooming schedule.  Some years the blooms are more prolific than others, and every 5 to 10 years certain areas experience what's known as a "super bloom."



Beargrass superbloom

Early last July I started hearing reports that the beargrass was blooming quite abundantly in the Mt. Hood area.  After a quick hike around the slopes of my local ski area, I confirmed the rumor was true.  The sheer amount of white puffy beargrass was so amazing, I recruited my buddy Kim the following week for a return trip.


Western Pasque flower seed heads


Mt. Hood Meadows, my local ski area, opens their slopes to hiking during the off season.  It's a great place for a trek - every summer their meadows explode into a colorful frenzy of wildflowers.  So it was on a hot day in early July that Kim and I arrived at our winter playground and donned backpacks to explore this place in a different season.


More of my favorite mop-head flowers

Not far from the lodge Kim and I ran into our first beargrass patch, their poofy white heads lining the trail.  Kim, who had never before witnessed a superbloom, was quite astonished.  But little did she know there was much more wildflower beauty awaiting us!


A slope of white and orange

Our trail led to a meadow chock-full of mop-headed Western Pasque flowers.  These wildflowers bloom with white petals, and then transition into a fluffy seed pod that resembles a wild head of hair.  This stage is known by many nicknames, but my favorite is "hippy on a stick."  We oohed and aahed over these cute wispy flowers and I took copious images.


A lovely garden of color

After walking through a few more gorgeous wildflower meadows we hit the motherlode - an enormous patch of beargrass blooming under the main ski lift.  And not only beargrass, orange paintbrush and purple lupine could be found in abundant numbers.


Large, fluffy beargrass blooms

Oh what a wonderful sight!  All forward progress ground to a screeching halt, as phones and cameras came out for an extended photo session.


A huge flower garden under the ski lift

Every time Kim and I decided we needed to keep going, we'd round a bend in the trail and there were more wildflowers and another thick patch of beargrass that of course we had to stop and document.  This continued for several stops.  At this rate, we'd be lucky to finish our hike before dinner!


It took us a long time to walk through the flower fields!

After about an hour of wandering through the flower fields, my friend and I did manage to move on and finish the hike.  Happily, my memory card was now stuffed full of beautiful wildflower images.  Here's a few more for you all to enjoy:


A thick patch of beargrass

More flowery goodness

I couldn't believe the sheer number of beargrass stalks
Another dense patch of beargrass

Some purple lupine just beginning to bloom

Beargrass central

Two happy hikers

Beargrass superblooms don't happen very often, so I'm glad I made it out to document last summer's wonderful wildflower display.  And now, months later in the dead of winter, reliving these images brings me joy.  Hope they've made you happy too.


Thursday, March 5, 2026

A Muddy Hike Through the Labyrinth

Although I try to ski as much as possible during the winter months, due to crowded slopes, I refuse to ski on weekends.  So when the weather provides a dry weekend day, I rally my friends for a hike.  Which is what I did one sunny, but chilly late January day, recruiting my hiking (and skiing) buddies Young and John.


An icy Labyrinth Falls


John suggested we travel further east in the Columbia River Gorge and check out the Labyrinth Trail.  A favorite hike for all of us, it's a great place to visit in the winter, as well as spring and fall (but way too hot for my liking in the summertime!)  Sadly, this area was decimated by a large wildfire last July, and had been closed ever since.  But recently reopened for hiking, my friends wanted to check out the damage.



At trail's beginning

On a sunny, but very cold morning, John piloted his truck towards the Labyrinth trailhead, located on the side of Washington State Route 14.  As my friends and I changed into boots and loaded our backpacks, John made a terrible discovery.  In his haste to get out of the house that morning, he'd forgotten to grab both his and Young's trekking poles.  Although not totally necessary, the poles provided stability on downhill trails, as well as saving wear and tear on the knees.  The older I get, the more I depend on my trekking poles to avoid falls.  So my friends weren't too happy about hiking sans-poles.


Brown trees - evidence of last summer's fire 


But we were already here, and John wasn't about to drive home to get their poles, so down the trail we went.  This hike began on an abandoned road, the asphalt slowly deteriorating.  Not far from the trailhead, we passed by a lovely little cascade, informally named "Labyrinth Falls."  Cold evening temperatures had caused frosty icicles to form on the surrounding vegetation.  So beautiful!  I even spotted a tiny rainbow near the waterfall's base.


In some places, the trail was a nice rock-paved path

After a half mile of asphalt trekking, my friends and I came to the official trailhead.  Rocky promontories rose up from the surrounding hills and the ground was covered in bright green vegetation.  So unusual to see these green slopes in January!  Sadly, any tree left standing bore dry, brown leaves - a somber reminder of the past summer's wildfire.


More reminders of the fire

It was here the climbing began.  We wandered up, up, up through rocky outcrops of columnar basalt, winding through a few narrow gaps and passing beside a cliffy area.  Kind of like going through a maze, I think this is what gave the Labyrinth it's name.  My friends and I passed by another pretty waterfall, sadly now framed by lifeless, brown trees.


The lone ridgetop tree survived

My friends and I clambered atop a high ridge and gaped at the Columbia River spread out below.  I recognized a prominent lone oak tree situated at a high point, and was relieved to see that it had survived the fire.


Walking through a very rocky slope

After about a mile of climbing, we came to a trail junction.  Turning east, my friends and I followed a fairly level path as it contoured across a wide open meadow, now littered with rocks and burned out trees.


Huge hole in the side of this tree!


Past a large tree with an enormous hole on the side (a great place for birds and animals to take shelter) we hiked a winding path that took us downhill and then through a forest that had been absolutely torched by the fire.


More fiery devastation

It was especially sad to see the blackened tree trunks and scorched forest floor.  Further along, we walked through a rocky area, the barren boulders dark with ash.  Not much green growing here.  The only good thing about this wildfire, it did open up the views ahead to tall cliffs near the Catherine Creek area.


Views through the trees

Wandering around the area directly below these cliffs, I spotted the first purple grass widow of the season.  Such a surprise!  These tiny wildflowers usually don't start blooming until late February at the earliest.  Wow, this was way too early!  A consequence of this unusually mild winter.


Looking up at Catherine Creek ridge

My friends and I then began our climb to the top of the cliffs.  Following a beaten path through a large talus slope, we huffed and puffed our way to the wide plateau above.  Then we all followed the cliff's edge, climbing higher.  Our goal was an old track called Atwood Road, which we would follow back towards the Labyrinth.


First grass widow of the season - way too early!

The early morning's cold temperatures kept the trails frozen and firm as my friends and I had hiked through the Labyrinth and on the side trail towards the cliffs.  But by midday radiant heat from the sun's rays had warmed things up enough to start melting the firm, icy ground.  After veering away from the cliff's edge, we started following an old dirt road towards the top of the ridge and Atwood Road, and found this track coated with thick, slippery mud.  It was so bad everyone had trouble keeping traction while slogging uphill.  I felt especially sorry for Young and John - without their trekking poles providing some stability, conditions were doubly treacherous.


Climbing up the cliff face

After what seemed like a very long trudge, my friends and I finally arrived at the junction with Atwood Road.  Climbing done, it was time for a mostly level trek back to the Labyrinth trail.  Unfortunately, we discovered Atwood Road was just as muddy and slippery.  Gingerly, we all made our way along this next leg of our hike.


Hiking along the clifftops

Happily some of the forest along Atwood Road had been spared the wildfire's flames and appeared to be green and intact.  Diving into these forested areas, we discovered much lower temperatures in the shade.  The surrounding air was still cold enough to keep the muddy trail frozen - at least firm enough that we could walk without slipping and sliding.  A welcome break!


Young inspecting a large, blackened tree

The shady, treed areas along Atwood Road were so cold that in some areas I discovered large patches of hoarfrost still intact.  A white, feathery type of frost that forms through sublimation, or water vapor turning directly into ice, hoarfrost is created during cold, calm nights.  My friends and I poked at the delicate, hair-like crystals, marveling at the fact that Mother Nature could generate such intricate formations.  It appeared as if these icy spires had grown right out of the mud!


Hoarfrost on Atwood Road

Now way past noon, my tummy was rumbling mightily.  I implored John to make a lunch stop soon.  However, he wanted to find a spot with a view, and remembered there were a few places not far away.  So on we trudged, until coming to a large clearing with some fantastic wide-open Gorge panoramas.  Insisting that we make this our lunch spot, my friends and spread out our sitting pads (because the ground here was quite muddy!) and took a load off.  John was right - having lunch with this spectacular view was worth the wait.


Very interesting phenomenon!

After satisfying our hunger - both our tummies with food and our eyes with views, it was time again to get back to struggling through the muddy trail.  After sliding around for another half mile, my friends and I came to the Upper Labyrinth trail junction.  Now all we had to do was walk downhill for two miles to get back to John's truck.


Lunch with a view

Downhill - of course that was the problem.  This Upper Labyrinth trail was as slick with mud as Atwood Road had been.  Plus throw in the fact that it veered steeply downhill made for extremely treacherous conditions.  Here is where trekking poles would come in not only handy, but necessary for stopping sliding feet.  Now John was kicking himself for forgetting his and Young's.


Sweeping river views

However, my friends and I wanted to get back to the parking area, and this trail was the shortest way down.  So gingerly, we began our descent.  We all quickly found out that walking in the muddy tread wasn't going to work.  Instead, my friends and I chose to place our feet on the grassy area next to the trail, which we found to be much more stable.  Yes, I know technically you're not supposed to hike off-trail, but in the name of safety we chose to bend the rules a tiny bit.


Rocky promontories

Although the grassy area next to the trail was also soft at least it wasn't near as muddy.  My friends and I were able to quickly cover this steep segment back to our original junction with the trail heading towards Catherine Creek.  From there, it was a repeat of the morning's trek, however this time with more mud.  Passing by the largest of the columnar basalt outcrops, I was surprised to see a group of rock climbers rappelling off its near-vertical faces.


This block of columnar basalt was being used by rock climbers


Despite missing their trekking poles, Young and John did very well navigating the muddy trail and grassy edges.  Luckily no one fell and the only casualty was extremely dirty boots and pant legs.


Lovely green vegetation lines the trail

Another great day to be outside!  Despite the fire damage, the Labyrinth trail was still outstanding, with wide-open views, green landscapes, and even a couple of very early season wildflowers.  I could have done without the mud, but it does make for a good story.


Monday, February 23, 2026

Return to Hardy Ridge

It was early December and after a few days of rain, a dry day was predicted.  With no snow in the mountains yet, skiing wasn't happening.  Itching to get in some sort of outdoor activity I decided to go for a hike in the Columbia River Gorge.  Not wanting to drive very far, I picked my favorite standby, the Hardy Ridge Trail.  Climbing a respectable 2400 feet in elevation over about four miles it takes hikers to a wide open ridge with outstanding views of the Columbia River and Mt. Hood.


Moss-covered trees and Columbia River view

Hardy Ridge was a place I used to visit often.  As a matter of fact, in 2022 I set a bunch of hiking goals, one being to hike this trail once a month throughout the year (sadly a bad case of plantar fasciitis put a stop to that.)  Post injury, my hiking here was quite sporadic, and due to fitness and time issues, I hadn't made it to the top of the ridge in quite awhile.  Maybe today was the day? 


The Hardy Ridge trail sign rests against a large rock

However, there was one important thing I'd forgotten to factor into my planned hike - wind.  Due to the nature of the steep cliffs rising from river level, air currents are funneled through this narrow opening, making the Columbia River Gorge notorious for being a windy place.  Although I'd consulted the weather forecast the night before, I'd neglected to notice anything beyond the lack of precipitation.


Wispy fog creeps between the trees

So imagine my surprise when I was greeted by strong gusts after pulling into the parking lot.  From previous experience I knew the gales would just get stronger as I gained elevation.  Hmmm....this might put a damper on my plans to reach the top of Hardy Ridge.  But I was already here and really needed some outdoor time.  Deciding to go as far uphill as I could, the new plan was to cut my hike short and retreat back into the forest if the wind was too strong. 


Clearing skies up on Phlox Point

The first 2 1/2 miles of the hike was a pleasant climb through thick fir woods along a series of abandoned roads.  Then the trail steepened and transitioned to a traditional narrow path as it wound uphill.  Huffing and puffing, I slowly made my way towards Hardy Ridge, buffeted by an occasional gust of wind.


Mount Hood peeking out between the clouds

About a half mile before the ridgetop there was a junction, marked by a sign (which today for some reason had been knocked down and placed against a large rock.)  Hikers could either continue uphill to Hardy Ridge or descend via another trail.  Decision time - should I continue on?


Looking across the valley to Table Mountain

Although the wind was still blowing quite strongly, I reasoned it wasn't too bad.  I'd certainly dealt with much higher gusts in past hikes.  Why not go a bit farther?  


Now I can see Mt. Hood!

So up the steep, scrambly trail I went.  I immediately became engulfed in a thick fog bank.  It was surprising to see fog when the winds were blowing so strongly.  (Don't winds usually blow clouds away?)  However I'd hoped to take in some of the marvelous views Hardy Ridge is known for - it didn't look like I'd get to see much today.

After passing through a small mountain meadow, the trail followed the crest of a rock outcropping.  Totally exposed, the wind was especially ferocious here.  But I hurried across and quickly dipped down into a small forested area, where the trees offered a shield from the gusts.  From the forest I alternated between clearings and brushy areas.  Although the wind was still raging, it didn't feel dangerously strong.


 A closer view


Finally the trail emerged out of the trees for the last time and began to follow the rocky spine of Hardy Ridge.  There was one final climb, a steep talus slope took hikers to Phlox Point, the highest and most scenic part of the ridge.  Picking my way through the large boulders of this slope, I realized the fog was beginning to lift.  Looking back, I could see wisps of fog streaming through the forest.  It was such an impressive sight, I just had to capture several images.


I spotted a few sundogs shining through the fog


After a lot of slow ascent, I finally reached the very top of Phlox Point and was ecstatic to find the fog had pretty much lifted at this elevation.  Looking across the Columbia River, I could see clouds still swirling around Mt. Hood, and she peeked in and out of their foggy curtains.  But it appeared to be clearing not only around the mountain but also in the valleys below me.


Lunch views

As I walked across the final ridge, searching for a wind-sheltered lunch spot, I was delighted to notice several sun dogs shimmering through the faint fog below me.  That's not something you see every day!


The mighty Columbia River shining in the afternoon sun


Sitting on the leeward side of a few stunted bushes, I enjoyed a relatively wind-free lunch, while taking in the views below.  As I ate, the fog began clearing away until I could see both Mt. Hood and the entire Columbia River Gorge unobscured.


More impressive sunbeams


My trip back down was absolutely delightful.  I was treated to the expansive views of the Gorge that I'd missed on my way up.  Mt. Hood emerged from the clouds, shiny white after receiving a tiny bit of snowfall.  As I once again entered the forest, sunlight streamed through the tree branches, creating more colorful sundogs.  And now quite used to being blown around, the wind didn't bother me in the least.  But sunset comes early in December, and after getting a late start on my hike, I had to hustle back down the trail in order to make it to my car before dark.  (Don't worry, I did!)


Quiet forest road

A successful hike!  Not only had I braved the less-than-ideal weather, I'd finally made it all the way up to the very top of Hardy Ridge.  And it was a great day to be outside.  The total milage came to 9 miles and 2400 feet of elevation gain.  I'd be sore and tired the following day, but totally worth it.