Beinn Dampf part one

The day after we dripped through Beinn Eighe, we set off from Torridon Village on the banks of Loch Torridon to climb Beinn Dampf.

The trail leads off through a forest of Caledonian Pine past a babbling bubbling stream. As you can see, Elizabeth has doffed her jacket, evidence of the day's warmer temperatures.

As we get farther up, the stream slips into a beautiful waterfall. Unlike Americans, the Scots do not name their waterfalls--even big beautiful ones like the one in the Coire Mhic Feinchair yesterday and this one. Gorgeous!

Looking back, you can see the village of Torridon along the loch. Loch Torridon is a sea loch, so it is subject to tides as you can see here.

But look up the opposite hill. You can see how low the clouds are. Elizabeth will soon be putting that jacket back on.

Beinn Dampf part two will be just in time for SkyWatch Friday.

ABC Wednesday---Z

Coming to the end of another alphabet--Z is always a little more difficult than some of the other letters. I must thank Dina from Jerusalem Daily Photo, whose Zones of Silence post suggested the idea of some other zones to me, the ecological zones of Mt. Rainier National Park.

We start at the lower elevations, with the Forest Zone, where abundant rainfall and melting snowpack from above provide for a lush dense growth of a wide variety of green plants.


Hiking through the old growth forest on a warm day is a cooling experience. Ferns, fungus, mosses, lichens, and a variety of cool weather wildflowers carpet the ground. Nurse logs provide a new base for new saplings.

Critters in the forest include some you might be squeamish about.

So, now lets go up to a higher elevation--the Sub-Alpine Zone. Once the snow melts, the lush meadows are home to a rainbow of wildflowers, starting with these Avalanche Lilies and their companion yellow Glacier Lilies, the first to pop through the snow.

Further up the slope we reach the Alpine Zone--conditions so severe that the few trees are only a few feet tall after a hundred year's growth. The soil is thin and rocky.

The area is similar to Arctic tundra. Growing season is so very short...

So, as you see, are the plants. The variety of lupine that grows in this area has leaves that measure--yes, those are centimeter marks, not inches, on the walking stick. Lupine leaves in the sub-Alpine zone measure three to four inches across.

In the rocky reaches of the Alpine Zone, we saw dozens of pika the other day.


So thank you again, Dina, for suggesting that Z is for Zones. Thank you to Denise for another successful round of ABC Wednesday. Thank you to the team for keeping us going. You will find the other ABC-Z entries listed here.

Forest Reflection

I was preparing this photo for my other blog when I noticed: it is a Weekend Reflection.

Snag

SkyWatch Friday is here.

Snags are an important part of the forest ecosystem. Decaying dead trees provide home to birds, insects, small mammals--sometimes even bears.

ABC Wednesday--T is for

T is for Tiny        Here is a collection of some of the tiny things we saw while hiking this weekend, beginning with the tiny sprouts of the fiddlehead ferns. they looked like copper wires sticking out of the mulch of the forest floor.

And the calypso orchid which stands only about three inches high.

This tiny mushroom was only about two inches, but then we found these unusual fungus, which we were assured are edible. They reminded us a bit of gummy bears. they are less than an inch.

 

None of them matched the tiny mushrooms we saw in the fall a couple of years ago.

Which were eclipsed by some even tinier.

ABC Wednesday coming down to the end of the Sixth Round.

See what else inspires the letter T at the site.

Signs of my world

The City Daily Photo group have a theme day on the first of every month. Though I gave up my Yakima Valley Daily Photo blog almost a year ago, I enjoyed participating in these theme days. Today they are posting funny signs, and I thought I would join their world with this one picked up on our camping trip this weekend when we stopped in at the Visitor Center at Paradise.

I couldn't decide if there was a difference in the weather. Lower down in the old growth forest, there was not much difference in the 40% chance of rain and the 85% chance of rain while it was falling.

This was My World this last weekend.

Geometry is Everywhere

Concentric Circles

with a little history.

The forest grows downward.

A Weekend Reflection

The Green Man

Midsummer rises... and cool green light filters between the trees. It drifts in dappled layers to a forest floor of ancient memories of those that have gone before. Silence envelopes me, holding me in arms of tranquility. My footfalls make no sound as I wander over centuries of dreams and dances. I am mesmerized, cocooned within the heart of the wildwood. A breeze trembles through the highest leaves, lingers with a whisper of voices long forgotten. I am drawn deeper. I sense myself leaving one world and entering another. World reality becomes obscure, recedes and pan pipes sing a haunting song. A hundred eyes watch me. Shadows skip and light glimmers. Gossamer feet pitter and patter. Wings flutter. I have entered the unknown, long-forgotten realm.A silver birch shivers, her green tresses rustle, wary – resentful - of the human presence.
My feet carry me forward and I advance towards the trunk of a venerable oak. Its craggy armour of grey is decorated with treebeard and lichen, elemental partners in the battle and dance of life.
This is my journey. My midsummer rising.
I wrap my arms around Old Man Oak, draw myself to his timeless bulk. Deep within, his heart beats, old as the stars, slow and steady. I sense him watching me, feeling me. I know I am an interloper, know I have to earn respect. All I have to give is love... I let it flow in waves from me – some small pittance to make up for things done by others to all his kind in so many places both near and far. The love pulsates from me into the heart of the tree – and he radiates it back, his energy connecting with mine. I rest my cheek against his side - close my eyes to sense him better.
Grandfather Oak, I have come home.
His voice, thick with age, rumbles within him.
Yes, child…home.
Yes.
All place is home. We are…home.
Yes.
Hard world your kind has created.
I’m sorry.
Humans advance without thought.
I know.
Sorrow.
Forgive us, we are unthinking.
I know. But we endure…always endure. Ancient wisdom knows.
A blackbird flutters and scuffles in the undergrowth. My eyes spring open.
Glossy creature, it watches me, head cocked to one side, bright eyes of obsidian glinting. It warbles - a syrupy note. It hops towards me, pauses, calls out, a clear, crystalline voice.
And then I sense him. He has been watching…peering through the trunks of his beloved trees. Edging ever closer, curious, unafraid…master of all he surveys.
I know you’re there. I am awed, my inner voice trembles.
He chuckles, remains unrevealed. But I feel his eyes upon me, appraising me.
Grandfather Oak speaks to him but I cannot catch the words. It is an ancient language that I and my kind of long since forgotten.
The blackbird chirrups. I have been asked a question.
Yes, I like it here. I find my peace here. I would remain forever…
I sense his smile. He is pleased I find rest and joy within his domain.
Midsummer is rising, the dryads are impatient, eager to weave and dance and play. He must go, so many to see, so much to do. Summer is in full glory. He is in his prime. I know this, feel it… I am remembering the primordial tongue…
Come again. Soon. I would speak with you, see more of you.
I will, and thank you.
I have been welcomed, embraced and now I must go. This is not my world, not now, not yet…
The blackbird twitters at me, his voice full of cheek and laughter. The way, the way, he sings, I will show you the way.
I pause, one lingering hand on the face of Grandfather Oak - my goodbye.
I turn as if in a dream but the spell is breaking. Reality beckons as voices shout in the distance. A jet rumbles overhead. They are poles apart these worlds, yet intrinsically interconnected.
Yes, I hear him say, remember that. We are always here, will always be here. Take that with you as our gift. And come again…
I hear him laugh, his voice echoing in the woods, drifting away, the merry glee of the dryads follows him - and midsummer rises
I know I have been blessed – or bewitched.

(Green Man image... courtesy of a Google image search.)