Point Defiance Rose Garden
Spring is a great time to be outdoors in the Pacific Northwest, so we visited the rose garden at Point Defiance park, which is more than 130 years old. It had a full-time gardener until the 70s, who lived in a house on the grounds. I forgot to take a photo of it. Not very exciting, but I found myself drawn to the amazing colors and shapes of so many flowers in bloom at the same time.
This is the central pagoda of the rose garden, which is arranged in concentric rows around it. The design philosophy of the first master gardener (Ebenezer Roberts) was more natural rather than highly organized, and that’s how the garden has remained through time.
This jumble of color is typical of the rose garden on a spring day.
They had more than roses in the rose garden. According to CoPilot, this is a Whorled Yellow Loosestrife. It appears to be in full bloom.
I never suspected there was a state society for a flower, but they had planted rows of numbered plants in a portion of the rose garden. The fence is to keep out the deer, which devour, stomp, and basically destroy flowering plants.
The rose beds are arranged concentrically around the center, but they are mixed up by variety. I’ll just show some photos of the gorgeous blooms we saw.
This Dublin Bay variety is distinctive because it has strong stalks and grows high, concentrating growth on the ends of very thorny branches.
I didn’t take a photo of the sign identifying this remarkable rose, but CoPilot thinks it is Scentimental (1997, floribunda).
They even had agave doing very well in the PNW. We want some of this for our yard.
This is a Korean dogwood (according to CoPilot). Note the deer-protection installed around the base. Deer are very destructive to new growth and weak trunks, based on my personal experience.
And those aren’t flower petals, they are bracts. The tiny flowers are in the center.
Note the dark purple, almost black, flowers growing from the same plant as the orange flowers.
Amazing!
These are the plants that don’t require deer protection. They are outside the defensive fence, and they are thriving.
I thought this was a Japanese garden until…
I noticed dolls arranged throughout the area. It reminded me of the horrifying Disney World ride, It’s a Small World. Now that song has returned to haunt me. Creepy … if you want my opinion.
I wasn’t very excited about going to the rose garden at first, but the combination of perfect weather and all these treasures of nature on display won me over. This is yet another reason to love living in the Pacific Northwest–especially Tacoma.
A Tour of the USS Turner Joy in Bremerton, Washington
Introduction
I’ve visited a lot of vintage, military ship museums all over the country, from Revolutionary War frigates to WWII aircraft carriers, but this is the newest vessel I’ve ever seen up close. The amount of information on how the complex propulsion, weapons, and personnel systems operated was overwhelming. This is undoubtedly the most complete ship museum in my memory.
The Turner Joy (DD-951) was commissioned in 1959 and serves as a transition between the relatively simple warships of the 40s and the digital, guided-missile destroyers of the 70s. Radar is integrated into the fire-control system. Analog computers are used to aim the 5-inch main guns using target data from a web of analog inputs. Nevertheless, this class was obsolete after twenty years of service; DD-951 was selected as a memorial in 1988 and is being constantly restored to its original condition.
This post follows the self-guided tour, which includes maps of the ship’s layout and the tour stops. The systems aren’t presented as such, but instead the visitor follows a reasonable path through the ship from stern to bow. This keeps tourists from running into each other. There were several groups with children when we visited; and I can say that the visitor flow is smooth and results in few bottlenecks.
Let’s take a look.
It was a day defined by intermittent drizzle and sprinkles of rain, so we didn’t spend a lot of time in the open. That’s the Turner Joy behind me as we prepare to buy our tickets. I got a senior discount that cost $20.
1. Aft five-inch gun mount
This is one of three turrets housing a five-inch, autoloading cannon. The turret is only the tip of the iceberg…
I crawled through the hatch in the side of the turret to discover this is an unmanned space, filled with a single gun. Where I’m standing is the only open space in the turret.
The rusty steel “tube” in the lower part of this image arms the projectile just before it is loaded. This is part of a fully automated loading system that transfers the projectile from the loading tray to the breech. This can’t be operated manually under any circumstances. Fully automated but 100% analog, using hydraulic and electrical power.
2. Aft berthing area
Spaces filled with triple-bunks were scattered throughout the hull, filling every nook and cranny with sailors, and there were over 300 of them. I think they each had their own bunk and locker. By the way, they got paid in cash while at sea and could purchase items like cigarettes, candy, and soda from the ship’s store. Higher ranking enlisted men could even buy better food!
3. Five-inch gun carrier room
Sailors passed these 70-pound explosive projectiles (the upper part of the vertical tube in the center of the image) through the ship’s passageways and loaded them into a revolving storage system like the cylinder of a revolver. Everything after that was automated. There was one on display that you could try to lift. It was pretty heavy. I didn’t have time to read all of the placards, so they might have explained how the propellant was loaded–perhaps the lower part of the loaded round in the photo? The entire assembly rotated with the turret on the deck above.
The Mark 56 system broke down the problem of acquiring a target, calculating the trajectory, and aiming the weapon into a sequence of tasks. The final job was pointing the gun precisely where required to deliver the shell on target; that crucial step was completed by the gun aimer who sat in the blue chair. Imagine what it would have been like during battle operations: the gun overhead is firing every few seconds with a deafening retort while sailors are passing shells in and loading them, all the time with new firing data coming from somewhere else within the ship. That’s the analog world.
4. After steering
Here we are deep within the hull at the absolute rear of the ship. The steering wheel in this photo is for the right rudder; there is a mirror image on the other side of the room. This is where a sailor actually steered the ship, or at least his half of it. The steering system is a masterpiece of energy inefficiency. Steam/diesel power was turned into electricity, then into hydraulic pressure by a pump just visible in the center of the photo; all so that there was constant pressure available to turn the rudders; and there were analog backups. The circular housing at the right is the actual rudder, operated by that constant hydraulic pressure, controlled by that little wheel. Amazing!
5. Aft engine room
This is the gearbox that reduces the high-rpm steam turbine’s shaft speed (3000-6000 rpm) to something that will turn a propeller without cavitation (250-300 rpm at full speed of 32 knots) and thus achieve the maximum efficiency. Those open viewports (center lower) reveal a toothed gear that must be three-feet in diameter. The noise must have been incredible.
This is the control panel for the steam turbine. I’m sure that most of those gauges could be ignored most of the time, but the engineer in charge couldn’t let their guard down for a minute or all hell would break loose. Each turbine produced about 35K shaft horsepower at 3000-6000 rpm, which means they could make a mess of the engine room and its occupants if not monitored.
6. Aft fire room
This is a limited view of one of the four boilers on the Turner Joy. There were four of these behemoths to drive two steam turbines. They extended beneath the deck grating floor to the bottom of the hull.
One of the boilers had a viewing window installed to allow visitors to see the heating element for the water. The bright lights at the top of the photo are fluorescent lights installed to make it easier to see inside. I don’t know how many heating coils there were, but I’m sure this is only the tip of the iceberg.
I wish the steam pressure gauges showed nominal pressures, which I think were about 600 psi. The temperature would have been over 700 F. That would explain why all of the pipes were wrapped in several inches of insulation. In fact, I wanted to take pictures of the 3D propulsion system, which extended twenty feet down to the keel, but it was impossible. This entire area is filled to the brim with pipes and large electrical cables going in every direction. God help anyone who wanted to troubleshoot this system! I guess that’s why it was built with so many analog redundancies and safety protocols. I’ll bet these guys checked these gauges in their sleep!
7. POW memorial
I fell asleep at the wheel. The bamboo grate to the left revealed a mannequin sitting on the floor with their feet manacled to the floor. There is a list of the POWs that were finally returned after the Viet Nam war ended. A historical note is that the USS Turner Joy was hit by artillery fire from shore while on patrol off the coast of Viet Nam; it returned fire and thus officially started the ensuing quagmire that resulted in humiliation of the US in Southeast Asia. It served throughout the conflict, supplying artillery support for military action in the littoral zone.
8. Gunfire control room one
This is where the Mark 56 fire-control system gets a little complicated. There’s a lot going on in this room. The left side of the room is filled with analog, fire-control computers. The two chairs are for the sailors who use the ship’s radar to locate a potential target and find a solution to hit it, using Newtonian physics. What goes up must come down.
The arrows point to a foot pedal that started an audio/visual simulation of how the targeting system works. The three circular screens represent range, distance, and elevation to the target. The operators turn dials to align the signal with the Mark 56 system, in order to get a bead on the target.
The computers look like the inside of a watch. I counted eight of these “CPUs” in one cabinet. I don’t know what they actually do, but they adjust for wind, distance, target’s speed, etc and tell the Mark 56 system where to point the gun.
9. Mess decks
I loved the chow hall (mess to the Navy) because they had free, self-serve coffee! Obviously, 300 sailors couldn’t fit into the room at the same time; so I guess they had three meal shifts per day because a navy ship runs 24/7. But the food couldn’t have been that good because NCOs could buy custom-made meals (e.g. hamburgers) from the kitchen. I never would have guessed that in a million years.
The fully equipped kitchen was visible from the serving line. Total transparency.
10. Wardroom
This is where the officers ate their meals and strategized. The table is about 12 feet long with the captain in the chair we see here. The sofa in the background was used during discussions. This room is like the boardroom of a corporation where the ship’s captain is the CEO.
A typical officer’s room (there were many scattered throughout the ship) housed two men. I saw two officer’s heads (restrooms) on my tour, so they weren’t living in privacy. But they worked on a 24/7 schedule and probably had no problem adjusting to the bath schedule.
11. Anchor windlass room
I failed to take a picture of the anchor windlass, which was a six-foot in diameter steel structure in the middle of the room. I don’t know if it was powered by electrical or hydraulic systems. Boring. But it had a hatch (full size for a tall man like me) that revealed the prow of the ship. This is the boatswain’s storage room, which is filled with rope of different kinds; however, I didn’t understand why there was a sewing machine located in this nondescript corner–until I read a plaque that explained that there was a sewing room on a lower deck that constructed/repaired tarps and awnings with this heavy-duty sewing machine. Ships use tarps all the time, and their flags decay rapidly under the constant bombardment of sea spray. There was a tailor on board, but we didn’t see their workspace.
12. Sonar control
One of the myriad tasks of the Forrest Sherman class destroyers was ASW (anti-submarine warfare), so they were equipped with the latest sonar technology.
13. Radio central
Any communications with the Turner Joy used radio, which was received and transmitted through a central facility. This area required a top-secret clearance to enter and was additionally secured with railings at the door. WTF? This isn’t a public bathroom. However, it also served as the ship’s secure facility, and thus there was a large room to the right of the photo where the ship’s officers could meet to discuss secret information.
14. Captain’s stateroom
A list of the ship’s previous captains revealed that they all held the rank of Commander, with one Lieutenant Commander. These are pretty nice digs and only a couple of steps away from the bridge. The single bed suggests that wives weren’t allowed onboard, even when in port.
15. CIC and pilot house
The Combat Information Center is what its name suggests: data from radar, sonar, other vessels, etc. are merged into a coherent picture of the ship’s environment and passed on to the captain and other relevant officers. There’s no separation of tasks here: the large, green screens are radar; the small screen to the right is sonar; tactical information is displayed on screens.
There is lots of room for the CIC officer to keep up with everything going on and get the big picture. Targets are identified and recommendations made to the captain. You could say this room is the brains of the Turner Joy.
The pilot house is usually called the bridge by civilians. That’s the rudder wheel I’m standing in front of. After my tour, I knew better than to think any of those controls did anything except ask a sailor somewhere else to do something. You could call the pilot house the prefrontal cortex; their orders are usually followed, but only on a voluntary basis. I didn’t have time to read all the data plaques, but we can guess their functions–throttles, firing, targeting, etc. The captain has to pretend like they’re running the show in order to make good decisions.
I presume this is where the captain sat on what I call the flying bridge, an exposed area in front of the pilot house with minimal controls. I don’t know why the seat was so high, unless it was to give a good view of what’s ahead; but why didn’t they put a step below it? There was no data sheet for the electrical device in the foreground, but my guess is that it has something to do with targeting or the ship’s local environment (other ships, obstacles, etc.).
The view forward from the flying bridge. Destroyers have very narrow hulls for high speed; but they are unstable in heavy seas.
16. Torpedo launchers
The torpedo launchers are mounted on swiveling pads. The torpedoes are smaller than I’ve seen before, I guess because they are specifically designed for ASW. Maybe the charge doesn’t have to be as big to sink a submarine, immersed in seawater, compared to a surface ship that weighs ten times as much and has heavy armored plating. There were no information sheets available…
I threw in this photo of a bosun’s chair. These are used to transfer people over the side, even to other ships. That would be a frightening ride, even in calm seas.
17. Gunfire control room two
I didn’t read these detailed panels, but I read about it on the internet. I think this center was used for constantly calibrating the computers and other equipment in Fire Control Room One. Note the absence of computers or a radar station. It has a desk instead of radar/sonar stations! The photo on the poster shows a panel with many controls, but no screens. I think I got accurate information from the internet, but oversimplified because this isn’t the exciting part of the ship. I think the operators here were like the Administrator on a computer system: they upgraded software and tested it–continuously.
18. Foc’sle
You can see how narrow the hull is at the prow, which is steeply raked to handle heavy seas better.
Summary
The Turner Joy is a work in progress. I appreciate that the restoration/public outreach effort has focused on a single system–the Mark 56 fire control system. It is presented in enough detail to allow the visitor to grasp how much effort is required to hit a target up to 20 miles away with a 70 pound warhead, and a theoretical accuracy of 10 yards.
I wanted to add something I just thought of: there were no keyboards anywhere on the Turner Joy, not in CIC, fire control (rooms one and two), sonar, the gun turret, not even in the radio room. This warship is a product of Cold War paranoia. It served no purpose other than supporting the Military Industrial Complex; frigates used the same weapons system to protect task forces, but the navy convinced Congress that they needed a multi-purpose vessel that couldn’t shoot its way out of a paper bag (that last is my opinion).
We didn’t get to see the rest of the marina because of the bad weather, but I’m itching to get a closer look at the navy ships moored a short distance from the museum. Also, there’s a WA state off-road-vehicle park a short drive away; so there are plenty of reasons to revisit Bremerton besides seeing how the restoration is progressing. Overall, I was pleasantly surprised at how enjoyable it was to visit a sleepy, navy town on Puget Sound.
I hope you enjoyed the tour as much as I…
A Visit to the Pacific Bonsai Museum
Small, carefully pruned trees are fascinating. I went to the National Arboretum when I lived in the Washington DC area, so I had to see what was on display here in Tacoma. The Pacific Bonsai Museum is mostly open air, with a few sensitive examples in a greenhouse. They leave the trees out year-round and have skilled bonsai arborists trim them according to their creators’ expectations.
I learned that there are different schools of thought on bonsai, from growing trees and shrubs from seeds, to working with dying plants, even stumps, and painstakingly reviving them. Then there’s cultural differences that vary between nations. However, bonsai began in China where it’s called “penjing”. It means tray scenery. The museum had their displays arranged by country of origin. I didn’t take notes and my photography is spotty. Still, here are some beautiful examples of bonsai.
The Bonsai Museum is in Federal Way, Washington, and is supported by Weyerhaeuser, the lumber company; it’s located on a large campus they built and then sold to someone. It is free and there is no apparent security, except from the Rhododendron Garden next door. I guess vandalism hasn’t been a problem; who would want to destroy such beautiful antiques?
This is a wisteria. If you’ve ever dealt with this out-of-control vine (I have), you will be amazed that this old example (note the size of the trunk) is so tidy yet produces the distinctive flowers. The specimens on display ranged in age from the late nineteenth century to the seventies.
This is part of the Japan exhibit. I think these are all trees, probably juniper–a favorite among bonsai artists.
As an example of what good hands these fragile trees are in, this specimen was created by a past director of the museum. It was my favorite. I like the idea of rejuvenation from near death.
European Olive, in training since 1969, from Italy.
You can see the difference between the trees/shrubs grown from seeds or youth (and those that are saved from the dust heap) in this recovered specimen. I love the intermingling of dead (white) wood and living tissue.
This German artist created a forest, but the individual “trees” were falling over so there are wires holding it together. I imagine there are a lot of failures in practicing bonsai.
This successful “forest” is by an Australian. Note the “rocks” at the base; they are actually dead knobs from a large stump. Also note the very shallow pan: this is truly penjing–tray scenery–and not a potted plant.
The Rhododendron Garden
We crossed the gravel plaza and paid a visit to the Rhododendron Garden. The casual stroll through every imaginable color flower was worth the price of admission, even on a chilly spring day in the Pacific Northwest.
I’ve commented about “nurse logs” before. Here they are part of the landscaping.
I love the flowers peaking out of one end of this log while a bush is struggling to escape from the other end.
Rhododendron is one of the most common groups of plants, native to every continent although most of them originate from SE Asia. They do well in the Himalayas–not so much here in the PNW.
This caught my eye as we left the museum/garden…
What the hell is growing out of the top? I’d love to see what kind of flowers this tall shrub will produce later this spring…
Ecology Notes from Vancouver, British Columbia
Every time I go outside here in the Pacific Northwest I find something new and mysterious, so I’ll keep posting these notes on my discoveries. This time I crossed the border and entered our northern neighbor, Canada. It’s only a three-hour drive, not counting the time spent at the border patrol station.
There is no old-growth forest in this part of British Columbia but that doesn’t mean the forest has died. It is regrowing and adapting to a more urban environment. We were strolling through Stanley Park, on the waterfront of Vancouver, when this bizarre tree caught my eye. The tree looks dead, including no crown and a trunk that appears ready to fall over; but near the top a curved branch has appeared. It is almost as large as the trunk and has a thick canopy. Unbelievable!
This tropical appearing plant is Gunnera manicata, also known as giant rhubarb (according to CoPilot). It is originally from Brazil, but it does well in the PNW because of the wet climate and mild winters.
We drove a little up a fjord to Shannon Falls and discovered that nurse-log trees occur here as well as in Washington. This one is probably a Western Hemlock growing from a stump comprising multiple roots from clumped trees that merged into one. That’s why it looks like a bamboo thicket.
This Sooty Grouse didn’t seem to mind being photographed as it poked around this water hole in Squamish and Chief Viewpoint park.
This reminded me of the tree I saw in Stanley Park, a dead stump with curved growth full of foliage. I asked CoPilot about it and, surprisingly, it had a plausible explanation. It is so damp in the coastal PNW that trees don’t just grow out of stumps, they can actually grow from dead trees well above the ground. Apparently, the young tree has sent roots down through the decaying stump to reach the ground…another biological wonder. Simply awesome!
I thought these bright flowers looked familiar, but I don’t trust my intuition on biological matters (all yellow flowers are the same); as it turns out, according to CoPilot these are Western Skunk Cabbage–the same plant I saw in a wetland along the Olympic Peninsula. I was right…but I had forgotten the name. LOL!
I enjoyed this trip and writing this post, thanks to CoPilot. Its identifications may be wrong but they are better than mine. I think of its comments as those of someone who took a biology class in college.
I hope you enjoyed it too.
Vancouver, British Columbia
I’ve never been to Canada…officially. I canoed into Ontario once and spent a frigid spring evening on an island in the Boundary Waters; and I briefly crossed into Quebec when visiting a friend in Presque Isle, Maine; but this time I crossed at the border station on I-5 north of Seattle.
The drive to Vancouver is about three hours, but there is a wait at the border. It was less than thirty minutes entering Canada…
It was beautiful weather, so we did as many outdoor activities as we could in the short time we were there. Our first stop was the University of British Columbia, which has about sixty thousand students. It is a very large campus located on the Strait of Georgia. This photo is looking westward towards Vancouver Island.
We spent the night near Stanley Park, which was filled with locals enjoying the weather. These metal statues are about eight feet tall, depicting the same shirtless man laughing and gesticulating. He was actually kind of creepy, but humor is in the eye of the beholder.
The Museum of Anthropology at UBC has a permanent exhibit of sculptural artwork by several native artists.
Totem poles are very popular still among the indigenous people. Several originals are on display as well as recent creations.
The outdoor display includes mock-ups of a tribal living area, including several poles. Apparently these are updated now and then as the family grows. They aren’t religious, but simply a traditional way of recording major events.
This recent creation represents a successful life, including owning slaves; that’s right, the locals had slaves but not in recent times. This is a historical piece of art rather than reflecting modern times.
These two pieces represent the east coast, on the left with a rising sun; and the west coast with a setting sun.
I was surprised at the variety of carved artwork the locals have created. Some of this is old and some is recently created by the active local artisans.
We drove to Shannon Falls, which cascades over 1000 feet.
Then we rode a gondola for the 2300 foot climb to the top of Stawamus Chief and followed a good trail around to see the glacial topography from several vantage points. It was impressive, but I declined to use the suspension bridge for a better view. It’s a LONG way to the bottom.
These pointed peaks are the remnants after alpine glaciers carved away at the mountain. Note their similarity to the famous Matterhorn in Switzerland.
We had to say goodbye, but we’ll probably return to Vancouver. It’s a beautiful city filled with friendly people who speak just like Americans in a city that could easily be mistaken for Seattle; perhaps some day Seattle and Vancouver will bridge the international border and merge into a megalopolis. I think we’re halfway there already.
The southbound border crossing wasn’t as pleasant as entering Canada; the American border was understaffed, ill-equipped, confusing and, generally, a clusterfuck. We spent 90 minutes to move three-hundred yards, to find that the passport-reading equipment in our line wasn’t working properly.
We plan to get a Nexus card for future trips…
Tacoma Chinese Reconciliation Park
I enjoy walking along the shore of Commencement Bay in Tacoma because it is lined with industrial relics, parks, modern shipping facilities, and memorials to my new home’s international connections. But Tacoma, like so many cities, also has a dark past that it acknowledges in many ways. Today’s post is a memorial to one of those darker times.
The memorial park is only a few acres, strung along the narrow stretch of land between the railroad and the sea.
The port of Tacoma’s container handling facilities can be seen in the background, a reminder that life goes on despite the too-often shameful past.
China was suffering from famine and misery in the late nineteenth century. America was seen by some as an escape from poverty and certain death, just as for immigrants from Europe. Immigrating didn’t require visas or approval; if you arrived, you were welcomed, especially the Chinese who took menial jobs to support the industrial development of the Pacific Northwest. They came looking for gold, but settled for whatever they could find. They were welcomed…until economic hard times made them the scapegoats of overall business downturns. Tacoma residents evicted them with extreme prejudice. They sued but were defeated in a court system as racially discriminatory as the people persecuting them. They never received compensation for property or business investments stolen from them.
This is my favorite display because it uses rocks to make its point: the bowed backs of Chinese immigrants are carved in bas relief on blocks of diorite; columnar andesite stands in mute witness to their plight.
This beautiful display has to be seen in parts, but one interpretation is fairly simple: a minor barrier confronts the immigrant, but life abounds behind it, if you can only climb over the low wall…
Beyond the wall is the sea, whose level rises and falls with the tides of history and human events…
A well-constructed bridge will take you over the sea to the promised land…
To a home that is linked to the land you left behind. This pagoda was given to Tacoma by Fuzhou, China–a sister city of Tacoma where many of the immigrants came from. It was built there and transported to this location after the park was authorized by the city in 1993.
I’m not sure what this is about. There was no plaque or explanation anywhere to be found. Tacoma is filled with artwork, but it usually has an explanation. I looked at the park’s web site, but this sculpture wasn’t shown. It faces almost due north…
There was a lot of tropical/Asian vegetation, just as there is throughout the Pacific Northwest. CoPilot thinks the flowered shrub here is Pieris japonica. Japanese. The dwarf conifer is also probably native to Japan. Americans have trouble differentiating different Asian countries, but we also don’t know where Hungary is, or even Switzerland for that matter.
Sights around Lake Washington
It promised to be a beautiful day, so we decided to take a look at Lake Washington, just east of Seattle. This elongate water body was carved by glaciers between 19 and 16 thousand years ago. It was part of Puget Sound until about 5700 years ago, when river sediment isolated it from the sea, allowing it to become fresh water. The original outlet at the southern end wasn’t good enough for early American settlers, so they got approval from Congress to construct a canal with locks to connect Lake Washington to Puget Sound, a drop of 20 feet in elevation. As fans of technological progress, we wanted to see this for ourselves.
The Army Corps of Engineers began construction of a set of locks in 1911, under the supervision of Hiram M. Chittenden. As the sign proclaims, his name remains associated with them; however, they are more commonly known as the Ballard Locks after the city where they were built. The site includes a number of stone-faced buildings and has since come to include a botanical garden.
There are two locks, one for larger, commercial vessels (on the other side of the control building) and a smaller lock. The larger one has two sets of gates to accommodate barges.
Several private boats used the lock while we were there. It takes maybe 15 minutes for the water level to equilibrate whether going upstream or downstream (towards Puget Sound).
The spillway was partially open and the turbulent flow created a very dangerous scene. I wouldn’t want to fall into that water.
Salmon have historically swam into Lake Washington to spawn through the small river (Black River) that drained it before the ship canal was constructed. That outlet is apparently filled with sediment now and the area completely covered with development, including Boeing Aircraft’s main plant, where the Museum of Flight is located. The lock design includes a series of pools called a fish ladder that allows the salmon to get to their spawning areas. I guess they figured out the new route. There’s a viewing room to the right where the fish can be seen making their way up the ladder, but there were no fish on this day; and I forgot to take a picture.
The roof of the fish ladder observation room is decorated with this unlabeled artwork.
Just a short drive from Ballard Locks is Washington Park, which includes an arboretum and Japanese Garden. We took a long walk around the park but didn’t make it to the Garden, which has its own parking area.
The walking paths go out to an island, where State Route 520 crosses Lake Washington, partly using a unique floating bridge construction. Traffic was pretty loud out there. I wouldn’t enjoy having lunch on one of the picnic tables.
These are typical plantings along the paths in the arboretum. I don’t know anything about plants, so I asked CoPilot (giving it the location): the low, flowering shrub is probably Pieris japonica (aka Lily of the Valley shrub); and the tree may be Stewartia.
There were numerous masses of flowering shrubs like this, which is probably a dwarf Rhododendron (according to CoPilot). There were a lot of plants within a group, which didn’t look anything like each other; however, the signs explained that the arboretum had large collections of Rhododendrons and Magnolias, for example.
It was a beautiful spring day, and Lake Washington was the perfect place to spend it. I won’t post a photo of the excellent, home-made hamburger and cold beer I enjoyed at Skillet and Vine after a tiring morning of basking in a warm sun.
Ecosystem Notes from Quinault Rainforest
Introduction
I’ve spent the past few months wandering the Olympic Peninsula with my attention fixed mostly on rocks—tilted beds, breccias, sea stacks, and the stories they tell about deep time. But along the way I’ve been noticing the living world with the same quiet fascination. I’m not a biologist and I don’t pretend to be; I can’t name any of the plants I pass. What I can see is how each organism plays a role in the larger system, the way geology shapes life and life responds in turn. These are simply notes from a wanderer paying closer attention.
I’ll try to remember to label these environmental posts as NOTES to avoid any confusion, especially on my part. This first post arises from a short walk on a semi-muddy trail through the Quinault Rainforest, on the Olympic Peninsula. I won’t have much to say about the photos, and all identification will come from CoPilot (aka ChatGPT). I’m certain its identifications will be better than mine after hours of searching the internet.
Quinault Rainforest in Olympic National Park
Plate 1. That raging stream about 50 feet below me is one of hundreds draining this temperate rainforest, which gets about 12 feet of rain per year. Note the ferns, which are everywhere, even in the temperate forests of northern Virginia. Ferns must be the most common plant in cooler forests. I am in a narrow strand of Olympic National Park that has never been logged. This is primordial nature, viewed by a geologist, but I’ll do my best.
Plate 2. Map of the Olympic Peninsula showing the areas I reported on in previous posts. I’m going to be focusing on Site A today, with a few photos from D.
Plate 3. I haven’t seen this anywhere else I’ve lived, not even northern Virginia, but they occur everywhere here in Washington. Apparently this is a common occurrence in rainforests, where the ground is a dangerous place for seeds. I couldn’t identify the species in this photo, but this practice is very common for hemlock.
Plate 4. This pile of debris is a large log turning into compost and supplying nutrients to a variety of plants. The top of the photo shows the base of a young tree growing out of all this chaos. According to CoPilot and the Olympic National Park map, this area has never been logged, so I am in wonder of this pile of “forest garbage”. Is that sandy soil I see? Where did it come from? I don’t know.
Plate 5. If you look close in the exact center of this photo, you’ll see daylight on the other side of the base of this unidentified tree. It’s about six-feet in diameter and covered with an epiphyte community of mosses and liverworts. Those aren’t leaves or fronds, but communities that mimic ferns–for their own reasons.
Plate 6. Here’s an example of a Western Red Cedar that has grown into a mature tree after being nursed by a stump. I guess it will eventually absorb the rotting stump and grow to full height, but this is the largest I’ve seen so far in the region.
Plate 6. This miniature ecosystem caught my eye, but I had to turn to CoPilot to get an idea of what’s going on. As a tree trunk decays it goes through five stages: 1) moss; 2) liverworts; 3) fungi; 4) shrubs; and 5) young trees. This one seems to be in stages 1-4. I didn’t see any seedlings on it. The shrub is probably huckleberry and the mushrooms a bracket fungus, probably Trametes or Stereum.
Plate 7. I am fascinated by these nurse trees after seeing species of fig trees in Australia that devour living trees, like a giant fungus or alien. These are nursing on dead trees, however, so it isn’t as gross; but this one is now standing on its own legs after the original stump has begun to collapse.
Plate 8. This is the largest Spruce tree in the world. It’s 191 feet tall and about 1000 years old. It is growing in a swampy wet land at the inflowing stream to a glacial lake, Lake Quinault.
Plate 9. I thought this was toxic waste until CoPilot took a look at the photo: this is a mass of frog eggs (probably northern red-legged frog). There were several more at the shallow, marshy wetland where a stream fed Lake Quinault. The water is so clear you can see the bottom, which is only a couple of feet down.
Kalaloch Beach in Olympic National Park
Plate 10. This one was a doozy. These objects are one-two inches long, thin, translucent, and oval in general shape. At first, CoPilot suggested insect wings (until I told it the size), then gull secondary feathers (until I said, “no way”), then settled on small fish cranial bones–e.g. the opercula, the bone that covers the gill. I asked for references, but it supplied me with titles and no links (how did it find them?). I spent longer on this photo than I wanted to. I don’t fault CoPilot for its ambiguous response because I found nothing when I looked very specifically. This phenomenon is either so common that no one bothers mentioning it, or infrequently observed that no serious beachcombers have stumbled across it. I’m going to have to agree (for now) with CoPilot that these are small bones from a school of fish that was decimated by either predation, coastal fishing, or disease and only these translucent cranial bones survived by floating, until waves concentrated them on this beach. This is the only beach where I saw them. I guess there are no easy answers to some questions–unless someone who reads this is a marine biologist.
Plate 11. I solved the mystery of the white objects on the beach (Plate 10). I spoke to an ecologist I know who suggested they are a Hydrozoa called Velella-velella, which floats on the ocean like a jellyfish. They are a colonial organism that is blown about by the wind. They don’t swim so they are easily blown onto a beach and carried by waves. (Here’s a good article about them.)
Cape Flattery
I reported on this amazing location in a previous post. You can scan that post to get an idea of where these photos were taken.
Plate 11. I don’t know if this living (it looked healthy to me) tree was stressed or not, but CoPilot thinks these are perennial bracket fungi, which favor environmentally stressed conifers. There were only a few on this tree. I noticed that this forest didn’t show nearly as many signs of decay as Quinault Rainforest, despite its exposed location.
Plate 12. I had to throw this photo in because the root growing out of the tree(s) on the left looks like a dog that got its head caught in a hole, and died there. Its limbs of limp. Overactive imagination, I know. Nevertheless, this is a bizarre image because the dog is lying on top of a mound of soil. I’d bet there was a stump there that has decayed because the trees visible in this image are both composed of multiple trunks. A large tree died here (like the dog) and these are its adopted offspring. I would add that Cape Flatters, which is part of the Makah Reservation, has never been commercially logged. This is old-growth forest and this is a naturally occurring phenomenon.
Summary
Moisture drives everything on the Olympic Peninsula, soaking old volcanic and sedimentary foundations until the forest grows straight out of its own decay. Fallen logs become elevated nurseries, their wood breaking down under fungi and mosses until they’re more sponge than tree. Hemlock, cedar, and huckleberry take root on these platforms, sending roots around stumps and into the thin soils draped over ancient bedrock. Even the beaches tell the same story: waves sorting bones, shells, and driftwood carved from headlands shaped by tectonics and storms. It’s an ecosystem built on slow collapse and constant renewal.
Acknowledgment
I am experimenting with using CoPilot (aka ChatGPT) to help as I pursue my growing interest in ecosystems. I have been up front about where it contributed. It has been a great help, as well as an inspiration; if not for CoPilot, I wouldn’t have had the time of inclination to add these ecosystem NOTES to Rocks and (no) Roads. In fact, I’m tired of this entire series of posts, for which I get no compensation other than sharing my observations of the world. As a final note, CoPilot wrote the Summary and I stand by it.
Now I have to think about more than just rocks…
The Olympic Peninsula: Quinault Rainforest to Cape Flattery
This is the first in what I hope will become a regular series of blogs from my travels around the Pacific Northwest (PNW) as well as trips throughout the world. This series accompanies my main blog, Rocks and (no) Roads, which reports on the geology of various places to which I travel. You could see I’m expanding my horizons; in addition to posting about general sights in this post, I will also be including environmental and ecological observations that are of interest to me. My background is in geology, but I’ve become aware of a lot more since moving to the PNW. So this is a learning experience, thanks in large part to the availability of expert assistance from CoPilot, Microsoft’s version of ChatGPT. I’ll be turning to it to identify plants and evidence of animal activity in future posts.
This is the base map I’ll be using in many of my posts from the PNW. The star indicates my base in Tacoma. Today’s post describes a two-day trip to circumnavigate the Olympic Peninsula. Although this area is the wettest in the contiguous United States, with annual rainfall up to twelve-feet, it was clear for the duration of my visit. The labeled areas indicate where the photos described below were taken.
Location A: Quinault Rainforest. Photographs can’t do justice to the experience of being surrounded by a temperate rainforest. There are many trails of different lengths, but I followed a shorter one (about one mile) that followed Willaby Creek for a while before turning into the depths of the forest. This image shows the creek rushing by about 50 feet below the trail as it races to the south shore of Lake Quinault.
Location A: Quinault Rainforest. This rotted log is about six-feet in diameter. It is representative of the ongoing decay and rebirth of the forest. I’ll talk more about that in another post. Note the ferns growing out of the decaying wood.
Location A: Quinault Rainforest. There are at least half-a-dozen species of giant evergreen trees in the rainforest, and I can’t identify any of them; but CoPilot suggests it might be a Coast Redwood, part of a local population found in this area. This example is typical in an area known for its “Champion Trees”. We’ll get to that in the next photo.
Location A. Quinault Rainforest. This is the world’s largest Spruce tree. It is 191 feet tall and about 1000 years old. It is one of the six champion trees located in Quinault Valley. The other champion trees are: the world’s largest Western Red Cedar, Douglas Fir, and Mountain Hemlock; and the largest Yellow Cedar and Western Hemlock in the U.S. This tree is growing in a wetland area at the NE end of Lake Quinault.
Halfway between Sites A and B. During my day-trips around the area, I’ve noticed a what appears to be a regional interest in post-industrial art, including but not limited to large concrete facilities that have been left to decay in place, as well as small sculptures and other curiosities scattered throughout the cities and forests. I don’t know if this is intentional or not: the roof of the information board collapsed (no doubt because of 12 feet of rain per year) and was set aside, possibly as a monument to nature?–or evidence of the poor funding and mismanagement of the National Park Service.
Location B: Kalaloch Lodge. This is the view from the deck of the lodge where I spent the night. Kalaloch Creek meanders as it approaches the coast and enters the Pacific Ocean here. An impenetrable pile of driftwood (actually logs and entire trees) has collected on a sand spit deposited on bedrock.
Location B: Beach 4 at Kalaloch. Steep bluffs of glacial till front a wide beach with many exposures of rock, which I’ll discuss in my next post.
Location C: Ruby Beach. This was the last beach before US 101 turned inland for ten miles. I took a video because a series of photos can’t possibly convey the beauty of this location as the sun was rising. Note all the rocks protruding from the water at low tide. The rocks are rising from the earth as we make our way north.
Location C. This selfie demonstrates how chilly it was, with the temperature below 40F. Rock formations like this are called stacks; they are erosional outliers as the coast recedes over millions of years, pounded day and night by rocks carried by waves; and tides that exceed nine feet–twice a day! You have to time your visit accordingly or all you’ll see is water.
Location D: Point Flattery. This is the extreme tip of the contiguous United States. The bedrock we saw further south, at Ruby Beach, now forms wave-cut cliffs that tower 40-80 feet above the waves. The top of the bluffs is 330 feet above sea level. The view from the catwalks is breathtaking. Vancouver Island, BC, is visible in the background, with peaks around 6000 feet.
More PNW Humor. All of the toilets we saw along the coast were constructed over septic tanks, with warnings about what to put in them. Someone with a sense of humor modified just one word of the official message…
If you get the chance, I strongly recommend visiting Olympic National Park, but you’re going to want to spend a week unless you live nearby in the PNW.
Timothy R. Keen 
Recent Comments