"displaced vertically" and then drenched

These are the last of the rainy day pics, from the "trail of sorts" above Myra Falls.

Myra Creek, from the top of a cliff. Raindrops show up against the green pool. I was on the edge of the rock, an arm about one of the spindly trees to keep my balance. The rock walls here are tall and cut straight down.

It isn't really a trail, just about 50 metres of open ground ending on slippery rocks at the top of the cliff. That's Buttle Lake in the background.

Wet rocks. Typical rocks for this area; breaking in angular planes, wearing mosses and lichens, and licorice ferns.

A BC Parks sign in the parking lot.

Text:

What's at Fault?

Whether slender ribbons or seething walls of foam, all waterfalls owe their existence to an abrupt change in the level of a river or creek channel. All along Buttle Lake earthquakes have caused breaks in the earth's crust where the land has been displaced vertically. Here at Myra Falls, the creek plunges nearly 70 metres in three cascades, each marking a shift in the crust and reminding us of the forces at work deep within the earth.

Licorice ferns, Polypodium glycyrrhiza, on a mossy rock.

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En estas fotos, trataba de capturar en ambiente, fresco, lluvioso, y algo peligroso, del caminito en el bosque arriba de las cataratas Myra.

    1. Mirando desde la cima del precipicio sobre el riachuelo Myra. Gotas de lluvia se ven contra lo verde del agua. Yo estaba parada en el mero borde de la roca, abrazando uno de los árboles para no perder el equilibrio. Las paredes rocosas aquí son altas y completamente verticales.

    2. No es precisamente un camino, sino solamente unos 50 metros de terreno abierto, terminando sobre rocas resbalosas y luego nada. En el fondo se ve el Lago Buttle.

    3. Rocas típicas de esta zona; se rompen en planos angulares, y se cubren de musgos y líquenes, y a veces los helechos regaliz.

   

    4. Una placa informativa de BC Parks, en el estacionamiento.

¿Qué es una Falla?

Si son listones angostos o paredes de espuma hirviente, todas las cataratas deben su existencia a un cambio abrupto en el nivel del canal de un rio o riachuelo. A lo largo del Lago Buttle, terremotos han causado rupturas en la corteza terrestre, donde el terreno se ha desplazado verticalmente. Aquí en las Cataratas Myra, el riachuelo cae casi 70 metros en tres etapas, cada una a raiz de un movimiento de la corteza; nos hace pensar de las fuerzas obrando en las profundidades de la tierra.

       5. Helechos regaliz, Polypodium glycyrrhiza, creciendo en una roca cubierta de musgos.

Side hill lace

 Licorice ferns, Polypodium glycyrrhiza, on old roots dangling down a dripping side hill.

With mosses and powdery lichens.

We see this fern growing mostly on mossy tree trunks, usually big-leaf maples, far above our heads, but the rhizomes can also spread over rocks. It likes vertical, mossy surfaces. Here, it's down at eye level, on a side hill cut into to make space for a narrow trail.

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Esto es helecho de regaliz, Polypodium glycyrrhiza, creciendo en unas raices viejas colgadas sobre un corte vertical en el terreno, tal corte hecho para hacer espacio para un sendero angosto. Comunmente vemos este helecho muy por encima de nuestras cabezas, creciendo en los troncos de árboles, principalmente de acer de hojas grandes, Acer macrophyllum, pero también sus rizomas pueden extenderse sobre rocas y tierra. Prefiere superficies verticales cubiertos de musgos.

High water, green forest

The highway on its way out of town runs alongside the river, usually a tame ripple glimpsed through the trees. But yesterday, the water was higher and wider than I'd ever seen it, rampaging along, white-foamed. I abandoned my planned route and went to look.

View from the trail. The second channel, entering below the islet, is usually not visible.

It had been raining earlier, and for days before; everything was wet, and very green.

Moss everywhere. And Licorice ferns, Polypodium glycyrrhiza.

I followed the trail to my usual stopping point, and took a side trail to the edge of the water, which the trail had veered away from. The side hill is covered with evergreen ferns; below, salmonberry and huckleberry bushes fill the low spots, and all around are the trees, the alders and maples standing bare-armed against the sky, the evergreens providing a sheltering wall. The air on my skin was cool and felt wet. The only sounds were the chattering of the rushing water and, occasionally, the plop of a drip falling from soggy moss overhead. A faint whiff of wood smoke blended with the green scent of the evergreens. For a minute, there, I was a little girl again; for an instant, I could have run, shouting for delight, through the knee-deep ferns.

The moment passed. The years have run on, and my gimpy knee was threatening to go on strike. I turned and took the trail back to the parking lot. But I went slowly, stopping often, just to stand and stare.

Fantastic shapes on a moss-covered branch.

Quiet trail.

Mossy trunks

Just wondering; why does moss sometimes completely cover a tree, skip the next, then coat only the foot of another?

 

Moss and lichen on a broken log.

And it's raining again.

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La carretera, saliendo del pueblo, pasa al lado del rio, que se ve detrás de los árboles, una linea azul, tranquila. Ayer, en cambio, el agua había surgido a sus límites, y corría agitadamente, formando olas y espuma. Abandoné mis planes y fui a mirarlo.

Foto: La vista desde el sendero al lado del rio. El brazo del rio que entra al otro lado de la islita, normalmente no se ve.

Había llovido apenas hacía un par de horas, y todo estaba muy verde.

Foto: tronco con musgos y los helechos Polypodium glycyrrhiza, el helecho de raiz dulce.

Seguí el sendero hasta donde acostumbro detenerme, y luego tomé otro senderito que llevaba al mero borde del agua, del cual el sendero principal se había alejado. Allí, el declive está cubierto de helechos de hoja perennes, Polystichum munitum; cerca del agua abundan los arbustos de salmonberry, Rubus spectabilis, y arándanos rojos; alrededor, los árboles de hoja caduca, los arces y alisos, levantan brazos desnudos contra el cielo; los pinos y abetos, siempre verdes, forman un pared que nos aislan del mundo exterior. El aire se sentía fresco y húmedo. Todo lo que se oía era el parloteo del rio, y de vez en cuando una gota de agua que se caía "plop" del musgo empapado allá arriba. Me llegaba un aroma tenue de fuego de leña.

Por un instante, volví a ser una niña, viviendo entre estos bosques; por un segundo, sentí que podría correr, gritando alegre, entre los helechos.

Y pasó el momento. Como han pasado los años. Y mi rodilla mala estaba amenazándome con declararse en huelga. Regresé al sendero principal y me dirigí al estacionamiento. Pero lentamente, deteniéndome a cada rato para mirar lo que me rodeaba.

Fotos: 

• Formas fantásticas de los musgos sobre una rama seca.
• El sendero de vuelta.
• Unos troncos con musgo. ¿Porqué sería que el musgo cubre algunos árboles por completo, mientras deja otros sin nada, o con musgos solamente en la base?
• Musgos y líquenes sobre una masa de madera podrida.

Y está lloviendo otra vez.

 

Green, green, green

Even in a dry spell, the island rainforest has an almost tropical lushness. Here, on the slope above the river, where the sunlight barely filters down through the leaves overhead, everything is green, from the deep blue-greens of the sword fern, to the muted greens of drying moss, ranging from a golden glow to a deep greenish brown, the pure tones of the licorice ferns that grow in the moss, the palest of greens of lichens, to the radiant yellow-green of maple leaves above. Even the river that wends its way along the bottom of the valley shows up green.

Sword ferns, licorice ferns, moss, maples, Douglas fir, lichens, and a froth of huckleberries.

And today it rained. The ferns (and I) are happy.

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Hasta en tiempo de sequía, el bosque pluvial de la isla tiene una exuberancia casi tropical. Aquí, subiendo del rio, donde la luz del sol apenas llega a penetrar, todo es verde, desde los verdes oscuros de los helechos perennes, a los verdes apagados de los musgos, que van de un brillo de oro a un café con tonos verdes, el verde puro de los helechos de raiz dulce que brotan del musgo, o el verde tenue, casi blanco de los líquenes, hasta el verde-amarillo radiante de las hojas del arce. Aun el rio que serpentea en el fondo del valle toma su color del bosque.

Foto: vista del bosque: helechos, musgos, líquenes, arces, abetos de Douglas, y hojitas de huckleberry.

Y hoy llovió. El bosque y yo estamos felices.

Loving the rain

 Rainforest bouquet:

Licorice ferns on buried log end.

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Un "bouquet" del bosque lluvioso: creciendo en el punto de un tronco caído cubierto de musgos, los helechos Polypodium glycyrrhiza (el nombre significa "de muchas patas y raiz dulce") disfrutan del agua, entre lluvia y riachuelos..

Caught in passing

Sun and deep, deep shade.

Licorice fern and moss.

Even in mid-afternoon, there are spots in the forest that never see sunlight. This log caught the light a couple of metres above the soggy, puddly, dark bottom land, all in deep blues and browns.

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Sol y sombra. Aún a mediodía, hay sitios en el bosque donde nunca llegan los rayos del sol. Este tronco caído, cubierto de musgos y de helecho de raiz dulce (Polypodium glycyrrhiza) se atoró un par de metros arriba del suelo, un pantano siempre empapado, oscuro, en tonos de azul y cafés.

Sweet root

 Just one more moss and fern photo.

These are licorice ferns, Polypodium glycyrrhiza

The Latin name means "many-footed sweet roots". It grows from a rhizome that meanders through the moss on trees and rocks, sending up shoots here and there along its length. And the rhizome, they say, is sweet and tastes like licorice. I've never tried it. I should.

Since the rhizome is so sweet even in its naturally occurring state, and since the chemical is not a saccharide, it is possible that this compound could be used as a natural alternative to traditional sweeteners. (Wikipedia)

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Otro musgo, con los helechos "Polypodium glycorrhiza". El nombre en Latín quiere decir "de muchos pies,  y raices dulces". Crece a partir de un rizoma (un tallo que parece raiz) que se extiende bajo el musgo, brotando hojas al azahar. El rizoma, dicen, es dulce y tiene sabor a anís. Nunca lo he probado; es algo que debo hacer.

De Wikipedia: Ya que el rizoma es tan dulce, aun en su estado al natural, y que la sustancia química no es un sacárido, es posible que esta sustancia pueda usarse como una alternativa natural en vez de los adulcerantes tradicionales.

At the base of the cliffs

Where there is water, there is life. Even on bare rock.

Pearly everlasting guarding the door to a small cave. Water trickles down the right side wall and soaks into the broken stones beneath.

Licorice ferns and moss in a damp crack.

The foot of the cliff collects bits of stick and leaves, which hold the moisture. Lichens, moss, and ferns cover the scree.

Dying bracken fern in the ditch at the base of the cliff glows yellow in the sunlight.

Sweet root

When the rains begin and the sun goes south, it's time to tramp through the soggy woods looking for mushrooms and mosses. And licorice ferns; the wetter and cooler, the better, the ferns say.

Licorice ferns, Polypodium glycyrrhiza, on mossy fallen tree. A rainy day in September.

Usually, I see them high on a mossy big leaf maple, or in a dripping bed of moss on a cliff face. Sometimes, though, their trees come down, bearing the ferns with them. These were in the hills above the Upper Campbell Lake, on the Berry Creek logging road.

The genus name, Polypodium, means "many feet", referring to its habit of growing out from many locations along a rhizome under the moss. And glycyrrhiza, the species name, means "sweet root"; the rhizome is licorice-flavoured and sweet.

On the wet forest floor

A few leftover photos from Canyonview Trail.

Layered fallen leaves on an upside-down fern frond. Fern, Bigleaf Maple, Red alder, Bigleaf Maple (3) and Red alder on top. As found. On a foundation of decomposed leaves and ferns plastered on a stump.

Licorice fern on a downed branch. I lifted the branch and found that it has entirely decomposed; all that is left is the moss and the fern rhizomes, still holding the shape of the branch. 

Oregon beaked moss on a stump.

It's snowing again. Third day in a row. Winter is finally here!

Reaching for the sun

An old cottonwood in winter:

Bare branches, covered trunk

Life goes on, winter or summer. While the leaves are composting on the ground, the mosses bask in the light. Here, near the crown, a patch of licorice ferns, shade lovers, grows on the north side of the tree.

Ridge Trail, Elk Falls Provincial Park, high above the Campbell River.

Grows on rock

Even in the most inhospitable of locations, life will find a way. Enthusiastically, even.

On a tall rock face, scoured by wind, rain, ice and snow; alternately baked and frozen, dripping wet and bone-dry; bereft of soil, hard and knife-edged; lichens, mosses, ferns, and even trees find a foothold and happily settle in.

Cliff face over my head, beside Upper Campbell Lake. Bottle-brush moss lines the cracks, small lumps of dark brown moss speckle the bare face of the rock. There's even a bit of grass taking advantage of a dip.

Across the lake: yellow and green mosses basking in watery afternoon sunshine.

The moss is a primary colonizer; it traps bits of dust from the air and crumbling rock, and adds its own organic detritus. Other hardy plants and animals find shelter and nutrients under the moss, and a community is born.

Licorice ferns, three kinds of lichens, pine needles from the trees above, and mosses. The white stuff behind the ferns is snow.

A haircap moss, growing on the rock face.

At the foot of the cliff, on a cement wall (no more hospitable than the cliff). Moss and its spore cases.

And under and through all this green life, beetles, ants, springtails, and assorted flies go about their business. There's good eating up there on the mossy crags!

Still here. Where the arrow points to lichen.

Green tails, bears, lungs, and a smile

In our wet, shady rainforests, sometimes sunlight sneaks under the canopy with its yellow highlighter.

I passed the entrance to a trail leading down into a valley, parked, and went exploring.

All the colours of green

It was a short trail that dropped down the hill to a cleared area about the right size for a tiny cabin. It seems that was the plan; there's a good pile of alder firewood, sawed to small woodstove size, now gently rotting, soaked through and growing moss. Tipsy fence posts line the trail, and a solid cement block with a fluffy moss cushion barricades the entrance. No-one has been working on the site, though, for a few years.

A rusting iron loop embedded in the cement block, peeking through the moss.

The shady ground between trees is mostly covered in evergreen ferns, still dripping wet on this sunny afternoon. Mosses climb the trees and drape from bare branches.

Cat-tail moss and Licorice fern.

A Cheshire cat smile.

Thick, cushiony moss and Licorice fern on an old cottonwood.

Licorice ferns often seem to be growing as single stalks, as in the first photo above, but each stalk has sprouted from a long rhizome that runs along under the moss. The rhizome is brownish, up to a foot long; "they" say (but I have never tested this, because I am reluctant to rip out that beautiful moss) that it tastes of licorice.

Licorice ferns are interesting edibles. More and more restaurants are using them to infuse sauces, make teas, or serve candied. The anise-like flavor is apparent when the root is nibbled raw, but in a sauce I find it much more subtle, with a touch of a licorice sensation on the tongue and a hint of sweetness. (From Fat of the Land)

The fern fronds are evergreen, at least in our wet forests.

Unidentified moss on a stump.

I couldn't find this moss anywhere in my book. The individual leaflets (or are they clumps of tinier leaves?) are almost like miniature maple leaves.

At the head of the trail, where sunlight percolates through more consistently, recent wind storms had brought down large quantities of shredded lungwort from far overhead. I found a few overgrown trees within my reach, later on that afternoon, at Rock Bay.

Lungwort, a few other lichens, and a bit of moss, keeping the tree warm.

On this tree, the lichen is pale green and brownish; along the trail in the bush, even the torn leaves were much greener. This lichen absorbs water, much as moss does, and becomes green and flexible. Here it is on a rock in Bella Coola:

Looks good enough to eat.

 Compare those to this, on a dry tree at water's edge, exposed to sunlight and wind.

The little "warts" are isidia, reproductive structures.

Lungwort and a hanging clump of beard lichen.