The Seep

When I awoke on the first morning in the Steens Mountains I was greeted by a Brewer's Sparrow who was obviously bringing food to her young. Over and over she landed on a nearby fence with insects or grubs in her bill, then disappeared into the same sagebrush with the treat.

After a very slow, relaxing morning and a tasty hot dog roasted over a campfire and then an afternoon nap (the warm sun and cool breeze made me think I was at the ocean when I closed my eyes ... it was very relaxing) we set off downhill to a spot of green. I have always found the place where water appears at the surface of the land in the mountains to be a very magical place. I can see how they came up with stories of elves and fairies and pixies in Ireland where there are so many green rivulets on the hillsides.

As we approached we could see False Hellebore in flower over all, and bluebells in pink and blue by the seep. White-crowned sparrows were in the bushes at the edge of the moist grassy area.

Monk's Hood grew among the Hellebore.

White Bog Orchids grew in the saturated areas.

Within just a few hundred feet the soggy land turned to trickling surface water, and then a little channel meandering through the lush alpine Timothy. Monkeyflower grew in profusion by the stream.

There were both the magenta Lewis's Monkeyflower and the tiny yellow Dwarf Monkeyflower.

Another hundred yards and the stream was a waterfall, cascading over some harder rock that had not yet eroded. Ferns grew on the shady side of the stream, just feet away from the dry sagebrush land through which this water flowed.

a big rock

I've been meaning to complete two more posts from my Steens trip, but the weather has been so wonderful that I've been spending much time outdoors bicycling and gardening. (OK, and playing the Vampire computer game I found on Facebook.) But, I do intend to finish my story about the Steens Mountains campout. This post is all about a big rock I spotted near our campsite. See it, up there on the ridge? It was a big boulder, out of place in a location where there were no big boulders. I wondered if it might have been placed there by glaciers (and there were many signs of glaciation), or did erosion just leave this massive rock?

On the way to the rock, there were many wildflowers! Here is a mix of Lupine and Paintbrush.

And, nearby, some Stonecrop growing out of the sparse, rocky soil.


The boulder was perched with only one point touching the earth ... two other smaller rocks provided support for it. How amazing is that?

The color and variety of lichens suggested it had resided there undisturbed for a very long time.

Birds like this rock wren (which was actually photographed elsewhere ... but there were rock wrens and other birds on this boulder as I approached) used the boulder as a vantage point. You can see the signs of their visitation in the image below the wren.


The Sulphur Buckwheat grows nearby.

And, watching over it all, from the highest point, a Prairie Falcon (and Violet-green Swallow in the background). The swallows had plenty to eat as the mosquitoes and other insects were abundant.

Arrival at Steens Mountains

By the time we got up to 8,000 feet elevation it was after sunset and getting toward dusk. We quickly set up our tents. I had never been in the Steens Mountains before, and really didn't have much idea where I was, so will show a few photos that I took over the next couple of days to help with orientation.

There are three large gorges, carved by glaciers, dividing the Steens. Kiger Gorge runs north-south, and a pair of east-west gorges run side-by-side. The pair are the Donner and Blitzen, and Big Indian. This first photo is looking east, looking up Big Indian from the downstream side. During the summer months, the native inhabitants of this area would work their way up the canyon.


This second photo shows the view as seen from the top, where we were. There were still snowfields and the wildflowers were blooming profusely.

There was a bit of a breeze at the ridge line where we set up camp, which was nice, because it made it cooler and continually hazed the mosquitoes away. I pulled on my hooded sweatshirt and sprayed DEET on my hat to try to deter the biting insects, and for the most part it worked.

After setting up the tents we ate dinner and watched the stars come out. They really came out. Jupiter rose over the eastern horizon with three of the large moons visible as the last color faded from the western sky. I had my Cambridge Star Atlas and was determined to locate the Andromeda Galaxy. The Andromeda Galaxy is visible to the naked eye, once one is away from light pollution ... and we were very far away from light pollution.

I began to orient myself. "Arc to Arcturus" ... there was the bright star I had recently learned about, lying on a curving arc traced through the Big Dipper's handle. And Vega ... that's the first time I ever saw that star and knew about it. Then the Corona Borealis (Northern Crown) and next to it Hercules ... first time I ever located that constellation. Wow, having a star atlas and a dark sky really helps. Meteors and satellites crossed the sky. I set up my 20 to 60 power spotting scope, which is really intended for birds, and was soon enjoying locating open clusters of stars. The small sliver of the new moon dropped below the horizon and it was now dark enough to see faint, dim objects in the sky.

With the help of the star map I learned that the formation of stars I always thought of as "the crook" was a portion of the constellation of Scorpio. And I became reacquainted with Cygnus, the swan, a large constellation that lies smack against the Milky Way.

I find it a bit difficult to express what the Milky Way looks like. It is not something I see very often because city lights and pollution tend to obscure it most of the time. It is a broad band of glowing mist extending from one horizon to the other, composed of millions or maybe even billions of stars. It is what we see when we look through the dense flat region of our spiral galaxy on a clear, dark night.

And, the Andromeda Galaxy is another whole galaxy of stars. It is in the sky sort of near Casseopia (which I call "the big W" ... because that's what it looks like to me). I still couldn't see it with my eyes, or with my scope. I finally grabbed my binoculars and scanned the area where it should be ... and, there it was! Now that I knew where to look, I could put the scope on it. Just think, another galaxy, just like ours ... headed right for us ... bound to collide in a few billion years. No worries, though. Galaxies are mostly empty space. Rarely do any stars crash into each other due to galactic mergers. The upheaval does cause a lot of new stars to be formed, though.

I spent so much time staring into space that it got very late, and I was shivering in the cool night air, which was unexpected because it was almost 100 degrees back home during the day. I crawled into the sleeping bag to get warm, too tired to battle any mosquitoes, which allowed them a bit of a field day (or field night, as the case may be) during the following hours.

In the morning I saw Venus in the eastern sky, and could also see the half dozen mosquitoes that shared my tent for the night. After squashing them, I went back to sleep.

The drive to Steens Mountains

Driving across Oregon on our way to the Steens Mountains, Cyndi and I saw lots of birds. This soaring Golden Eagle was magnificent.

And, the Loggerhead Shrike were out in force. We saw quite a few of them and this one even stayed put while we stopped to take a photo.

To get to the Steens Mountains, we had to drive past the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge, where I had spent a wonderful vacation in the early spring. It was interesting to see how the seasonal changes had progressed.

The Buena Vista overlook, as it was when I first visited in the spring ...

and, last weekend.

Looking toward the Steens Mountains in the spring ...

and, last weekend.

When I visited in the spring the road up to the alpine areas was still closed by snow. It often is closed until July, and we were headed for the top. The ridge is close to 9,500 feet above sea level and easily a mile above the surrounding plateau, and we were going to seek a camping spot near the top. It's getting late in the day, as you can see from the beautiful sunset light. And, at the gas station we were asked where we were headed ... and their one word reply was, "mosquitoes."