Must have been blind

How is it that I walk down the same trail dozens of times, keeping my eyes open, I think, and the umpteenth time, I see things I've not seen before? And they've been there all along! (I look them up on iNaturalist, and there are sightings in the very same places, over several years.)

These are along the trails going down to Elk Falls.

Giant Blue-eyed Mary, Collinsia grandiflora. Taller than the Small-Flowered Blue-eyed Mary I find at Oyster Bay.

Baldhip Rose, Rosa gymocarpa. Looks like our common Nootka rose, but the flower is half the size.

Pathfinder, aka American Trailplant, Adenocaudon bicolor.

Tiny. Procumbent Pearlwort, Sagina procumbens. On the rocks above the falls.

These next plants are old friends.

If you can call Devil's Club a friend. Nasty thorns!

Coralroot orchid, Coralrhiza maculata.

Unidentfied mushroom, Stairstep moss, Hylocomium splendens (probably). Buttle Lake.

Wet, young Bracken Fern, Buttle Lake.

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¿Cómo es que tomo el mismo sendero docenas de veces, con los ojos abiertos, o así creo, y luego la enésima vez veo cosas nunca vistas antes? ¡Y lo peor es que han estado en esos mismos lugares desde siempre! (Las busco en iNaturalist, y hay reportes en los mismísimos sitios, desde hace años.)

Estas plantas se encuentran en los senderos que nos llevan a las cataratas Elk.

1. María de los Ojos Azules Gigante, Collinsia grandiflora. Parecido a la versión miniatura que encuentro en Oyster Bay.
2. Rosa gymnocarpa. Muy parecida a la Rosa nutkana, pero las flores son pequeñas, la mitad del tamaño de las de R. nutkana.
3. Adenocaudon bicolor. Lleva varios nombres, entre ellos, Pathfinder, explorador, Planta de los Senderos.
4. Esta plantita crece entre las rocas arriba de las cataratas. Muy pequeña, la llaman "Planta Perla", Sagina procumbens.
5. Y las que siguen son amigos viejos. Si es que se puede decir que "El Mazo del Diablo", Oplopanax horridus, es amigable. ¡Tiene espinas despiadadas!
6. Orquidea Corallorhiza sp.
7. Hongo sin identificación, y musgos, probablemente Hylocomium splendens.
8. Helechos en la lluvia, en Buttle Lake. Pteridium aquilinum.

Odds and ends. And middles.

 A few random shots taken along the trail by the river:

A fallen log, trimmed where it fell across the trail, bursting out in small, white fungi.

A bald-faced hornet, Vespula maculata, digs through the duff on a log.

The river reflects a sun-drenched, mossy hillside.

View from a bench where I rested; big-leaf maple dressed for fall.

In the understory, the Devil's club spreads its large leaves high enough to catch the sunlight.

Another big-leaf maple, this one, in deeper shade, with a trunk covered in lumps of moss.

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Algunas fotos de cosas vistas en el paseo por el bosque y a la orilla del rio. Sin ninguna organización.

1. En un tronco de un árbol caído, cortado donde cruza el sendero, brotan muchos hongos blancos.
2. Una avispa Vespula maculata busca entre el detritus encima de un troncón viejo.
3. Reflejos de una ladera asoleada en el agua del rio.
4. Visto desde un banco donde me senté un rato; las hojas del arce de hoja grande, Acer macrophyllum, ya empiezan a adquirir sus colores brillantes de otoño.
5. En la sombra debajo de los árboles, un garrote del diablo, Oplopanax horridus, levanta sus grandes hojas hasta alcanzar la luz.
6. Otro arce de hoja grande, este en la sombra llevando en el tronco masas de musgos, cafés y amarillentos.

Master of camouflage; Beware!

I drove by a group of Devil's club plants a couple of weeks ago, noticing the large, thimbleberry-like leaves, still new, about the height of a thimbleberry shrub. This week, the plants are taller and broader, and the flower spikes stand above them.

Devil's club, Oplopanax horridus

Devil's club loves wet ground, the edges of streams, the low-lying boggy areas in our rain forests. The shrubs stand up to (and maybe beyond) 3 metres tall. The leaves can be 15 inches across. And there are vicious spines everywhere: stems, leaf stalks, even on the leaves themselves.

Flower spike with bee.

This spike is well above my head. On the right, green red elderberry clusters.

Did I mention spines? It's worth repeating; these are vicious! Long, sharp, and brittle, which means that they will break off in an unwary hand, filling the skin with persistent slivers, which fester. And they grow in thimbleberry habitat, the leaves look at first glance like thimbleberry leaves; I'm not the only one that has grabbed a stem for support, to immediate regret.

The leaves also look like big-leaf maple leaves. Can you tell which is which here?

The berries will be red. Bears love them. But they have the thick coat which wards off those spines.

A stem, showing the dense crop of spines.

I'll check back later to see the berries.

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Hace un par de semanas pasé por un sitio donde crece el garrote del diablo, Oploplanax horridus, viendo entonces, las hojas grandes, parecidas a las de "thimbleberry", Rubus parviflorus. Las plantas pierden sus hojas en invierno; estas ahora son nuevas, y apenas medían poco más de un metro.

Esta semana, las plantas han crecido, y alzan sus cabezas de flores por encima.

Foto: Garrote del diablo.

El garrote crece en tierras mojadas, a las orillas de riachuelos, y en las depressiones lodosas de nuestros bosques. Llegan hasta 3 metros o más de altura, y las hojas pueden medir 45 cm. Y por dondequiera llevan espinas nocivas e irritantes, hasta en las mismas hojas.

Fotos: flores con abeja, y planta bien por encima de mi cabeza.

Hay que hacer hincapié en que esta planta tiene espinas. Espinas largas, puntiagudas, y fáciles de romper, así que al tocarlas con una mano descuidada llenan la palma de múltiples espinas que se rompen bajo la piel, y allí se enconan. Y como crecen en los mismos sitios que el thimbleberry, y las hojas a primera vista se parecen, yo no soy la única que se ha agarrado de un tallo del garrote para sostenerse en un sitio difícil, con la consiguiente trauma.

Foto: las hojas también se parecen a las del arce de hojas grandes. En esta foto ¿puedes distinguirlas?

Las frutillas son rojas, y a los osos les gustan. Pero ellos, los osos, tienen ese pelo denso y grueso que les proteje de las espinas.

Foto: un tallo con sus espinas.

Regresaré más tarde para ver las frutas.

It's a jungle in there

"Rugged". That word comes up repeatedly in descriptions of Vancouver Island's terrain. And with reason.

Bear Creek wetland creek, off Oyster River. The circles in the water are from resident salmon.

Processing photos from Tuesday's trip to the salmon hatchery, I was impressed again by how impenetrable our bush is. The photo above is in an area that has been logged off repeatedly, cleared, cleared again; "managed". It is barely a dozen steps from the holding tanks for salmon fry (I was standing on the plank bridge beside the first tank), a stone's throw (thrown by me, with my old, gimpy shoulder) from the fence and the Oyster River Enhancement Society main office.

And yet: try walking through that! Scrambling, rather, sometimes using both hands as well as feet. Carefully, though; there's Devil's Club in those bushes, amply deserving of its name, and cunningly disguised as harmless thimbleberry bushes. And sudden pit traps, hidden under coats of moss or dead leaves. And trailing blackberry vines to grab your ankles and tip you over. And fallen trees barricading any clear spaces, clear only because the tree knocked over the Devil's Club on the way down.

The creek looks walkable, but watch out for waist-deep silt pools, looking as if they're only inches deep. And slippery, slidy slime. And more fallen branches, only half-anchored in the mud, ready to roll underfoot or to jump up and swat you. You'll need a good, sturdy stick; two feet aren't enough.

A few steps up the slope: cleared space beside the gate. Maple, cedar, evergreen fern, young alders, and blackberries. There are always blackberries. Give it a couple of years, and you'll need a machete to get to the sign.

It's the rain that does it. The rain, and the mild seasons, never too hot, never too cold. The rain and the mildness and the "intricate topography" (another synonym for "ruggedness"). And the isolation: a ten-minute drive from the populated coast takes us into bush untouched by anyone but the occasional loggers and fishermen. Who mostly stay on the trails, because it's too hard to cross that bush without land-clearing machinery.

It's bear country. The bears had been at the tanks the night before we arrived, leaving the leftovers from their breakfast for the ravens and the crawdads. They walk through this bush as if it were a highway. On all four feet, of course. And wearing thick, protective, furry armour against the Devil's Club.

It looks almost innocent

The Campbell River Museum sits on a hillside facing the shore, part sunny lawns, part in deep shade under evergreens or mixed alders and maples. Trails wind through the trees and above the lawn, where a collection of 80 different plants native to the area thrive.

Now that the sun is shining, and flowers are starting to appear along the street, (and I saw my first salmon-berry flower two days ago; more diagnostic of spring than the robins) I went to see what is happening on the Museum lands.

And there were trilliums and flowering red currants and kinnikinick and curly-topped ferns and ... I'll be processing photos for a few days.

But my favourite was this brand new devil's club (Oplopanax horridus) bud, with a visitor:

Two buds, old spines, and a multi-spotted ladybug, probably Harmonia axyridis.

The spines look relatively innocuous now, worn down and de-fanged by a harsh winter. I was almost tempted to touch one. Almost. Once the leaves open, there will be nasty, stinging spines everywhere, even on the leaves.

Horrid!

The area I've been exploring for the past couple of weeks follows the valley of the Oyster River. On the map, it looks simple; empty forest or grassland with a winding blue streak through it. But zooming in, and zooming in further, it gets bluer. Water is everywhere; there's the Little Oyster River, a bunch of creeks and mini-creeks, sloughs, bogs, miniature lakes, pools, and at least one beaver pond. Any little dip in the terrain is full of water.

And where the ground is always wet, I keep seeing stands of Devil's Club, its wide leaves serving as stern "Keep Off" signs. Oplopanax horridus, they call it; it's well named, both in English and scientific notation.

The leaves get up to 15 inches across.

And the plant can be 15 feet tall, or more. This one was a new plant at the edge of a recent clearing, and only about 8 feet high.

The whole plant is covered with vicious spines.

Really vicious. Up to an inch long, very sharp. They break off easily to an incautious touch, sting and fester.

Even the leaves are spined, top and bottom.

"A piece of Devil's club hung over a doorway is said to ward off evil." (Wikipedia)

But you'd need thick gloves and strong boots to harvest that piece safely. I think I'll stick to vanilla leaf.

Hands off!

Devil's Club. Oplopanax horridus. Justifiably called, "... the meanest, prickliest, baddest plant in the forest."

It is an attractive plant; large, maple-like leaves surround a tall flower spike, which later develops into a cluster of the reddest of red berries. In its favoured habitat, the dense rainforests of the We(s)t Coast, they add a welcome spot of colour in the fall and winter.

Devil's Club, Cougar Creek canyon

Unripe Devil's Club berries.

Its other features are not quite so welcome. It's covered in ferocious spines, up to an inch long; spines that break off with a mere touch, that dig deep into the unwary hand and fester there.

Spines on the main stem, and on the leaf stalks, too.

On a flower stalk. Laden with toxin.

Even on the leaves, top and bottom.

Various parts of the plant were used by BC's native peoples as medicine, or to prevent attack from evil entities. (This last, by sympathetic magic ; one dangerous thing scares off another, or its converse; something so bad must also have an equally good effect.) It it edible, just barely; the tips of the plant in the early spring can be eaten in small quantities. Otherwise, it proves toxic, except in medicinal doses. (And even then, caution is needed.)

I was bushwhacking through a wet forest in the Bella Coola valley, years ago. The ground was littered with fallen trees, rotten stumps on top of rotten stumps, thick cushions of slippery moss, all bound together with salmonberry canes. It was slow going, and when possible, I walked above it all, using more recently fallen trees as bridges, and holding on to cedar saplings and salmonberries for support. (Salmonberry has spines, too, but they're short and soft up near the top of the plant. )

I was too high to see the stalks, and mistook a Devil's Club leaf for a harmless thimbleberry.

See, (and this is the worst thing about Devil's Club) the two plants are twins:

• They grow in the same habitat; moist banks, rainforest, stream banks.
• They grow to about the same height: anywhere from 1.5 metres to 3 metres.
• The leaves of both are large and spread out horizontally to catch the light.
• They both have white flowers and red berries.
• The leaves look alike at first glance.

These are thimbleberry leaves. Photo from nwplants.com.

And these are Devil's Club. Photo from Sierra Club.

• The leaves are even equally soft-looking. Thimbleberry leaves are soft, absorbent, and flexible, and have been traditionally used for wrapping foods or holding a serving of berries. They can pad a backpack to protect your harvest of mushrooms, roll up to make an emergency drinking cup, or serve as a hat in a sudden rainshower. And if you're ever caught in the bush without TP, they work for that, too. Try that with Devil's Club leaves! Or rather, don't.

Thimbleberry stalks, stems and leaves are always spineless.

And everything they say about Devil's Club spines is true. My hand swelled up, the spines buried themselves and festered. It hurt! For a long time. And I never forgot the lesson.

One other thing; BC's native peoples say that bears eat the berries.

"The Tlingit thought bears chewed the roots to soothe their battle wounds. The Bella Coola thought that bears ate the unpalatable fruits (known to them as "grizzly's berries") and used the thorny branches as bedding." From ZooScape.

Of course, grizzly bears (Ursus horribilis; it's somehow appropriate that they would eat O. horridus.) have fur so thick that Devil's Club spines could never reach the skin.

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