The Flora of Point Defiance Park
This beautiful, mature second‑growth coastal temperate rainforest is only ten minutes from my house. I should get there more often, and perhaps I will after taking an interest in ecosystems in addition to geology. Today’s outing was an opportunity to begin acquainting myself with the ecosystem I inhabit, so I made an effort to identify several plants along Five Mile Drive, a road that circumnavigates the forest and is permanently closed to auto traffic. When I started walking along this path, this forest was nothing but a lot of green trees and stuff. My perspective changed over an hour or so, and about 2.5 miles.
This colorful maple tree is a native to Puget Sound. It earns its name because those deeply lobed leaves are up to a foot across. But what are its roles in this forest? CoPilot had a lot to say about that. The Big Leaf Maple is fundamental to this ecosystem because it creates a huge amount of leaf litter that contributes to the forest floor and thus supports a vast microbiome, as well as a nurturing environment for conifer seedlings. This large tree (50-150 feet) fills in gaps in the forest canopy, supplying shade and catching rainwater, as well as dew. Its dappled shade creates a diverse understory for new growth. It is important in the success of birds, insects, bats, squirrels, and deer. They all hang around it and depend on its large mass for homes and meals. Its large root system contributes to hydrologic stability by stabilizing slopes, slowing runoff (and erosion), retaining moisture, improving soil infiltration.
This large tree is native to SE Europe and they were introduced after the logging boom led to immigration. However, it is not an aggressive invader; this lovely tree does not form thickets, outcompete conifers, spread wildly, alter soil chemistry, suppress understory diversity, or create monocultures. In CoPilot’s words, “It’s a polite non-native.”
This nondescript shrub gives the forest its lush, evergreen understory identity. It is one of the top berry producers in the Puget Sound lowland forest but, more importantly, its berries ripen later in the season, extending the berry window into early fall. It also thrives in the acidic soils Douglas fir and hemlock create, in turn moderating soil conditions. It bridges the gap between ecological disturbance (i.e. logging) and late-successional forest. One could say that it serves as a node in the forest’s ecological web. This is an unrecognized keystone species in the understory.
Oregon grape is the huckleberry’s silent partner in keeping the understory secure because it is also an evergreen shrub. In addition, it supplements the food web by blooming in March-April, providing nectar when few other shrubs are in bloom. Its berries ripen by mid-summer, bridging the gap between early berry producers like salad and late huckleberries. It precedes huckleberry in forest succession but persists as the canopy creates a shadier understory.
Himalayan blackberry is less like the fruit-bearing huckleberry and Oregon grape, and more like the Trojan Horse. The fruit are abundant and sweet, produced for a long season, and loved by all the denizens of the forest; thus, they are spread like wildfire, colonizing the entire forest–without predators in Pt. Defiance. The result of this invasion includes impenetrable thickets, root masses that choke other species, spreading by long, arching canes, and monocultures. It kills all the other stabilizing shrubs and creates a single mass of Himalayan blackberry. If left unchecked it can destroy an entire ecosystem, including the conifers. Holy shit!
This nitrogen-fixing tree is the first responder when the forest is disturbed. As such it enriches soil, accelerates forest recovery, feeds the next generation of conifers, increases understory diversity, boosts fungal activity, and generally improves growth rates of proximal plants. Alder is the first tree to reoccupy damaged land, preparing the site for the conifers that will come later. Wherever alder stands exist, the biodiversity of the forest is increased. Because it gives so much to the forest, alders only live 40-60 years, thus acting as a continuous healing agent as a forest recovers from an environmental shock. This is the pioneer tree of the lowland forest. I hope it can defeat the Himalayan blackberry.
This view of the Tacoma Narrows bridge through the thick forest reveals a green landscape perched atop high bluffs overlooking Puget Sound. As far as the eye can see, from this vantage point, the forests were clear-cut to make profits and fuel the economic development of the Pacific Northwest.
But at what cost?
Mima Mounds Natural Area Preserve
It was unbelievably gorgeous weather here in the Pacific Northwest (PNW), with a high of 74 F, so we took a look at a couple of nearby natural areas.
Mima Mounds
This exceptional area isn’t unique but it is an unsolved geological problem. It is also peculiar in being a transition zone between active prairie and forest ecosystems. I’ll try to explain this with photos, and some help from CoPilot, Microsoft’s version of ChatGPT. However, I won’t solve the geological conundrum, which may never be fully explained.
The Mima Mounds are about 16500 years old. They formed as the last continental ice sheet retreated from Washington. The mounds you see in this photo sit atop a gravel surface created at the southern extremity of this glacier. People, including the native Americans who have lived here for tens of thousands of years, have been perplexed by this bizarre topography.
There is a 1.9 mile trail that goes through the area; however, when European Americans first came here, this topography extended for more than twenty miles. Most of it has been demolished.
This is a portion of the information board at the interpretive center. (A) The Mima Mounds were constructed after the ice sheets began to retreat for the last time. The inset map shows the location of the NAP relative to the glacier and modern cities. This was the absolute furthest south of thick ice, but that doesn’t mean it was warm. (B) This is a rare photo of a cross-section through a mound. The dark soil is organic-rich and excellent potting soil. The subjacent glacial outwash is gravel. (C) This is a photo from the air, which shows their regular spacing. This is the geological problem. How could they have formed over about 400 square miles?
There are many theories for the origin of the Mima Mounds, and other mounds found in N. America and elsewhere. These are summarized on the Wikipedia page. I included this photo because it was on the poster; and the size/shape of these blocks of permafrost from Scandinavia are a good match to the mounds we saw. And they are in a similar, post-glacial environment.
Prairie Ecosystem
I’m discussing both the geology and ecology of Mima Mounds together in this post because they are inextricably connected. There are two ecosystems competing for space in this lumpy prairie environment. The result is there for anyone to see, if they ask the right questions.
This low shrub was identified by CoPilot as snowberry, which is a staple of the prairie. I only saw them on the mounds, their roots in good soil, but apparently they also do well in the sandy glacial soil. From my perusal of the internet, I can’t disagree.
My ignorance is hilarious. I thought this was some kind of wildflower … but CoPilot identified it as a Douglas fir seedling. They were growing only on the mounds, sometimes in clusters. This is evidence (to me and CoPilot) that this is a dynamic transitional environment where forest species coexist with prairie flora.
This fern caught my eye because it is not a natural inhabitant of a prairie ecosystem. However, the mounds are near a forest, so … CoPilot thinks it is a bracken fern, which is native to the area but not a prairie environment. It often behaves as an aggressive colonizer in disturbed edge habitats. That last phrase gets my attention because this preserve is at the edge of a mature forest.
This lovely flowering shrub was identified by CoPilot as a species of Lotus, commonly called Spanish Clover, deervetch, or trefoil. It grew in the sandy areas between the mounds. My quick check can neither confirm nor deny this identification, but this common variety of clover is native to the PNW.
This mound is populated by bracken ferns, crowding onto the area with good soil.
I don’t know what species this copse of young trees is, but it is obviously encroaching on the prairie ecosystem.
You never know what you’re going to find when you go outdoors. According to CoPilot, this is probably the result of NAP’s policy of not removing human artifacts that don’t interfere with the environment. Manpower shortages, policy priorities, etc. Mima Mounds was established in 1976, so it’s fair to say that this structure is at least that old. I guess NAP hasn’t gotten around to it yet, which fits my nascent sense of priorities in the PNW.
Bill Frank Jr. Nisqually National Wildlife Refuge
We stopped for a quick visit, which turned into a one-mile death march (for me, after walking 4 miles on uneven ground), to see where the Nisqually River empties into Puget Sound. It originates from the face of an alpine glacier above 6000 feet on Mt. Rainier. This is a tributary stream that forms a series of algae-covered ponds.
Here we are, less than a mile from the Nisqually River’s delta in Puget Sound. There is a lot of downcutting and the creation of sand bars, but no boulders or even cobbles. This glacial river has been tamed by nature over a distance of about eighty miles, but it is still flowing pretty fast. We didn’t make it to the delta … maybe next time.
Summary
This was a great day trip to a fascinating and beautiful area, where the prairie and the forest compete for space on the top of mounds of top soil whose origin is a mystery. This back-and-forth movement of plants on timescales of years to decades suggests that the PNW is alive and well, the flora responding to minute changes in soil and air temperature/moisture, precipitation, wind, etc. Let’s hope these two thriving ecosystems can continue their dance without further human interference.
I have my own hypothesis about the formation of the Mima Mounds, which is consistent with the facts. 1) As the glacier melted and retreated, over thousands of years, shallow lakes developed in local depressions. These lakes were shallow, perhaps twenty feet deep, and limited in extent. 2) Fine-grained sediment (i.e. mud) and organic debris settled in them to depths of no more than ten feet. They were ice covered for part of the year. 3) As the glacier retreated further, streams began to superimpose their beds onto this landscape, but they weren’t like a glacial river (e.g. Nisqually River). These were weak streams flowing over a post-glacial landscape, meandering and not cutting new channels. 4) This mild erosion was superimposed on a landscape dominated (in this area) by an antecedent pattern like that seen in the Arctic (see above photo). Fine-grained sediment was removed, following a suture pattern until only irregular bumps remained. 5) This process of sheet-flow erosion continued to the present day, leaving us with these paradoxical mounds.
I am a sedimentologist, so I think in terms of turbulence and flow as interconnected processes that alter a landscape slowly, one grain of sand at a time. There wasn’t enough turbulence to strip away the veneer of clay over this basin in the time allowed, so it chipped away at the weak edges of lumps of soil that were probably held together by the roots of plants.
In other words, the thawing of permafrost created the pattern, and turbulent flow polished it to what we see today.
Prove me wrong…
Hood ornaments through the ages: A visit to Lemay–America’s Car Museum
This wasn’t my usual visit to the local automobile museum. Instead of glimpsing the big picture, as seen through the evolution of car bodies from wagons to sleek, steel superstructures sitting on rapidly changing chassis, I am going to take a rather myopic view of automobile development in the twentieth century. Cars and airplanes co-evolved once lightweight, powerful motors were developed; but, unlike aircraft, autos weren’t substantially influenced by wars. In fact, the redirection of civilian manufacturing to wartime needs was an impediment to progress in land transport. Nevertheless, similar lofty ideas influenced automotive design, especially their adornment with signs of the modern, technological age.
Inspiration for this post came from my son, whose attention to detail constantly reminded me to focus on the details. Thus, this post begins with a ~1903 Studebaker electric buggy, which has no adornment despite being painted an eye-catching red.
By 1913, International Harvester designed a logo for the radiator of this cargo wagon.
Pierce Arrow added a bit of flair to the insignia. A good part of this post will focus on the development of radiator caps, from fancy adornment of the cap, which was required to add water for the internal combustion engine, to …. let’s see what happened.
Graceful designs appeared early, as in this 1920s Cadillac. I think the flowing pattern behind this woman’s head represents water as she burst from the surface of the sea, as suggested by the fluted base. She is taking flight.
Lincoln turned to the graceful greyhound on the radiator cap to imply beauty and speed. Note the lean ribcage, coincidentally similar to the louvers used for cooling in early models.
The Nash corporation created the Metropolitan car to compete in European markets during the 1950s. Small, economical, but stylish, it nevertheless had an ornate hood ornament that was no longer attached to the radiator cap.
No long hair streaming in the wind here. This idealized female figure wears her hair in a bun and is … I don’t know what she’s lying on, but it looks like some kind of jet pack.
Chevrolet caught my attention because of the evolution of their logo. This 1940s grill looks like an idealized shield, i.e., coat of
By the 1950s the Chevrolet “coat of arms” had become wider to fit the full-body designs made possible by improvements in metal working, but they still added meaningless details like the crown icons on this design. Accompanied by a V that filled that gap in the wider hood.
By the 1960s the emblem was surrounded by an ellipse, which made it easier to attach it to the larger grill required for more powerful engines.
This 1950s Ford integrates several elements from different eras: The name of the model, the stylized coat of arms, and an icon representing the jet age–the hood ornament is reminiscent of the iconic F86 Sabre, the hero of air combat during the Korean conflict (it was never officially declared as a war).
This 1950s Oldsmobile integrates similar emblems: It adds a map of the Western Hemisphere, and updates the fighter jet to a bomber.
Mercury takes another twist by updating the old “coat of arms” to a minimalist Mercury icon (the head wearing wings on his hat), combined with a stylized M to fill that wide hood.
This 1930s Plymouth attempts to represent a mythical past by including a Valkyrie taking flight with what looks like a Mayflower ship–probably homage to the name, “Plymouth”.
This 1950s Ford looks like it has a pistol attached to the hood.
The color scheme on this 1930s Ford may not be original, but it is obvious that Ford wanted to advertise that this car was powered by an eight-cylinder motor, probably the famous flathead V-8 which they introduced to the working class.
Ford purchased Lincoln and claimed their greyhound, added a V8 emblem to make it clear this was NOT a straight eight, which was a powerful but problematic motor, and glommed their still-in-use emblem onto the grill of this late 1930s/early 1940s era car.
This early 1930s Ford dropped the decorative, exposed radiator cap but included a support bar to get the message out that this was a V-8 automobile.
When pressurized cooling systems were introduced in the early decades of the twentieth century, it was necessary to monitor water temperature, but in-dash gauges hadn’t been invented yet. This radiator cap incorporates a thermometer. This photo shows the side that the driver didn’t see: in a time before owner’s manuals, it tells the operator what the proper temperature range is. The other side, which faces the driver, shows hot water filling a bulb.
This temperature gauge is the only example I saw of a biplane, and it’s supplied by the instrument manufacturer.
According to ChatGPT, this youth is drawing a bowstring on the radiator cap of a Pierce Arrow (circa 1930). Note the bow he’s sitting on. I don’t quite understand the position, but I’m not an archer. It makes more sense than a child about to ride a slide, and it explains the curved, cylindrical object he’s sitting on. Who would’ve thunk…
The Buick Riviera, introduced in about 1962, had this unimpressive R set in a groove in the hood.
A couple of stylistic changes to Lincoln in the 1940s: The greyhound was swapped for what looks like a ball and bat; and the coat of arms became a body-sized shield.
The driver has to read this temperature gauge from behind the steering wheel. The strange symbols around the edge look like fish bones or trilobites …
Bentley wanted to be certain that people next to you at the traffic light knew how wealthy you were.
This 1950s car mixed a jet aircraft symbol with knight holding a shield.
This 1940a hood ornament pre-dated jet aircraft, but that androgynous figure is going pretty fast…
The proud owner of this 1920s Buick receives a crown (of thorns?) from an angel.
I wonder what this wading bird is looking for? According to ChatGPT, it is the Packard “Goddess of Speed”, an art deco representation of coiled power about to explode. I guess people looked at things differently in the 1930s…
International Harvester incorporated only their iconic IH symbol on the Scout’s hood in the 1960s, but culture doesn’t wait for corporations to add their own “art deco”. I don’t know how much more of this I saw at the museum, including all those Motometer temperature gauges…
This 1950s Pontiac Bonneville sports a jet on each fender instead of only one.
What the hell? CoPilot (aka ChatGPT) thinks that the weird arrowhead on top was just that–meant to imply as fast as an arrow. That’s a long way from an airplane or valkyrie. This bizarre hood ornamentation might explain why Hudson went out of business in the 1950s.
Since Earth doesn’t have any rings, this 3D circle must represent a satellite’s orbit. Pretty advanced for the mid-1950s. Too bad Oldsmobile didn’t make the cut when it was time to downsize GMC in 2004. Bummer.
They barely had room for the coat of arms between the jet intake and the aircraft on the hood on this 1950/51 Studebaker Champion. Despite the optimistic ornamentation, this car had a six-cylinder with about 100 hp. Bummer.
Mercedes added a badge for those who weren’t familiar with its iconic star.
There’s a lot going on here: a pair of “8”s for, presumably, the straight-eight engine that was a real powerhouse in the 30s; wings; an explicit acknowledgement of both Dodge boys; a Star of David; and a set of pipes, maybe for an organ, on the radiator cap.
Final Thoughts
If you made it through this long post, I hope you enjoyed the journey as much as I did. I have never examined one aspect of the evolution of automobiles in such detail before. It was worth it, even if hood bling isn’t as exciting as engines, brakes, body styles, and all the other mechanical components.
Two concepts seem to have been central during the twentieth century: having a coat of arms was probably an extension of custom-made coaches to horseless carriages; and associating cars with flight, either through birds, mythic creatures, or airplanes. The combination was often ludicrous but always entertaining. The phrase, “They don’t make them like they used to,” is nowhere more applicable than to stylistic choices in bodies and the chrome trim they sport.
A Quick Visit to the Tacoma Art Museum
Ever since a 40% complete skeleton of a female Australopithecus afarensis was discovered in 1974, in Ethiopia, she’s been put on a pedestal both figuratively and literally. A PNW artist created this life-size sculpture of her, giving her a strong upper body and legs in accordance with current theories that she walked a lot, but also climbed trees.
There are a lot of glass exhibits because Tacoma also hosts a famous glass museum and working foundry.
This curious display fills an inaccessible plaza within the building. The stones were acquired from a village in China, where they served as a roadway constructed 500 years ago. The exhibit is designed to represent a wave on the surface of Commencement Bay.
The Oregon Zoo in Portland
We drove a couple of hours to visit The Oregon Zoo. I don’t like zoos much, lately, because they house imprisoned animals, but I am aware that they do a lot of good work towards saving endangered animals from extinction. So I was ambivalent about this trip; nevertheless, I was pleasantly surprised at the quality of this particular zoo.
I bought a ticket for the 11:00 a.m. window from a kiosk, which printed my bar code–all without a hitch and no line.
It was a beautiful day, so the parking lot was full; but we parked at the overflow parking lot and rode a free school bus for a quick trip to the entrance. It was better than parking in the regular lots. The arrows show the one-directional flow of people that is encouraged by the layout. It’s about two miles and takes 2-3 hours.
There is a mountain goat exhibit at the entrance with artificial rock piles, but its inhabitants were having lunch. They look pretty ragged, I guess because they’re losing their winter hair (or is it fur?).
The Pacific Northwest was a grouping of regional species, including three black bears. I missed a lot of opportunities to photograph them interacting because I was confused by their enclosure, which was very large. It covers the side of a hill and includes several personal areas in addition to available shared “dens” where they could get some privacy from prying eyes.
The owls seemed to enjoy sitting on the ground, even on a pile of ice, even though they had plenty of branches to hang out on.
There was plenty of shade available for the inhabitants as well as the visitors.
The bald eagles were rescued and are unable to fly properly, so I guess this is an “assisted living” facility.
The lampreys were lying together in one end of a smallish tank. I guess it’s difficult to know whether they care about their surrounding or not. This is one strange fish.
I never like to see free-wheeling animals like otters in captivity, even if they have cooled water to swim in. And I didn’t see any fish swimming around for them to catch. The phrase “feeding time” really bothers me, but I suppose we primates need to see the animals we share the world with in person to recognize them as being living beings. No one knows what an otter thinks…
This video shows a couple of otters cavorting in a viewing room. They had private places available, so I guess they don’t care if we reading monkeys watch them; but I wish that woman hadn’t kept her fat head so close to the window.
The mountain lion/cougar/etc is on the highest platform taking a nap, so I guess they’ve gotten used to life in a cage with a net ceiling. These big cats, native to all of N. America, aren’t endangered, but, obviously, we can’t see them this close. They are pretty dangerous.
I was feeling pretty bleak about the whole zoo concept until I saw the condors. They were actually EXTINCT in the wild until the efforts of zoos reintroduced them; now they are coming back, each one wearing a team number and a radio transmitter. I guess this is their “halfway house” before winning their freedom.
The primates have a series of habitats. Unlike some of the other prisoners, they take an interest in their captors’ antics; these orangutans are watching their human helper clean their bedding (airing and replacing straw). The looking glass works both ways…
The zoo has named their “guests” because they are trying to support social systems like these elephants would have in the wild. Thus they have family groups (even in animals that don’t have “nuclear” families). For example, one of the males was in a sexually provocative state and isolated in the enclosure seen in the background so that he couldn’t fight with the other males, or injure the young one; but another who was considered “safe” was mixing with the “herd” while feeding in a separate “males only” trough until…
He finished his plate and pushed the others, including the young one, aside to eat their food. These large animals really need many square miles to live. This situation is like having your entire family living in a studio apartment, which people do in some parts of the world; nevertheless, elephants are at the top of my list for animals that will be eradicated by humans because they simply require so much SPACE to live, and they consume massive amounts of resources. I hope they don’t follow the path of the condors, and I applaud efforts like these–hope for the best but prepare for the worst-case scenario…
I could barely see these lions, but my phone’s camera caught this image. Words fail me to describe what might be going through this loin’s mind…
These lemurs don’t seem to care that a bunch of primates are watching them as they wake from a nap…
This monitor’s tail is half as long as its enclosure. A photo can’t convey its situation as well as a video, even thought it isn’t doing anything dramatic, but–what is it thinking? I have no idea; maybe it is perfectly happy–well fed, as cool or warm as it desires…
There were a lot of birds in the bird enclosure–small ones that could fly around, larger, flightless ones that hung around the door as if waiting for a chance to escape.
I saw several of these, but they didn’t pose for photos. None of them looks like the birds from the previous photo, but I don’t know anything about birds. Maybe the listing is out of date…or maybe I’m a typical modern Homo sapiens, who is so unaware of the physical world that…
Thank god my phone could see in extreme contrast. I never saw this rhinoceros lying in the shade, apparently listening to every word we primates were saying. This is another example of an animal that requires a lot of SPACE to live; the Oregon Zoo did its best with what was available, even creating a “family” environment with several animals living together.
This tiger doesn’t say much, but their stately demeanor says more than words…
I got this image without seeing what I was photographing. With the light/shade contrast, I was blind but my camera wasn’t. What is this magnificent creature’s expression conveying?
I try not to anthropomorphize because none of the animals held captive in the Oregon Zoo are human. They aren’t stupid, intelligent, emotional, sociopathic, or anything else we sapiens self-classify ourselves as. They are simply not in a position to influence the physical world as dramatically as we. Lions and tigers don’t create cages to hold their prey before they become a meal. They hunt when they are hungry and eat what they can catch.
I don’t think my feelings about zoos have changed after my visit to this excellent repository of the animal world. Nevertheless I understand the conflict between humanity’s claim to dominance, as the top global predator, and the responsibility that comes with this natural order; what I mean is that we are the children of Earth, just as is the tiger and the bacteria. However, with great power comes great responsibility, and it is incumbent on us to accept the difficult challenge of preserving life to the extent of our abilities.
Every animal I saw in the Oregon Zoo is, or will soon be, threatened by humans. Maybe we are the cause of the next great extinction–if so, such an ominous responsibility should be treated with great circumspection. This is no light matter.
Whether we like it or not, we are responsible for the fate of life on Earth…
A Day Trip to Yakima
We wanted to see what was on the other side of the mountain, so we headed east from Tacoma and crested the Cascades at Chinook Pass. It was snowing at the pass and fog/clouds obscured what were probably majestic views. We pushed on to Yakima and found the Cowiche Canyon recreation and conservancy area.
This is a typical view from the trail, which follows an old rail line that was used for seventy years to haul apples out of the area. I have discussed the columnar basalts and vegetation in previous posts. It was late spring and all of the plants were showing their color while water rushed past in the creek at the bottom of the canyon.
This undulating columnar basalt caught my eye because of the color and its wavy appearance.
The Burlington Northern railroad wasn’t afraid to use explosives to create a path through what was described at the time as, “A dry, rocky canyon good for nothing except a railroad.” The rails have been removed, but the eleven bridges required to construct a rail line to cover the 3 miles of the trail system are mostly still in place.
Here’s one that didn’t last. It was replaced by a pedestrian bridge constructed by the Cowiche Canyon Conservancy and the Bureau of Land Management.
We took a more circuitous route back to Tacoma using US12 through White Pass. It didn’t snow, and we got a look of one of the many water falls in Washington.
This was the best angle I could get, and I still couldn’t see the bottom! It turns out that Washington has more than 3000 catalogued water falls, more than any other U.S. state. Clear Creek is rather small at only 300 feet, so I guess there is some more air down there.
It was a beautiful day in the Pacific Northwest, including the snow flurries. A ten-hour day trip took us from coastal Washington, over a 6000 foot pass, into dry eastern Washington, where we hiked through a canyon filled with native plants and rocks (hahaha), and back over the Cascades past a magnificent water fall in Wenatchee National Forest.
This is undoubtedly the most beautiful place I have ever lived…
Ecological Notes from Cowiche Canyon
Cowiche Canyon Recreation Area is located on US12 just west of Yakima, Washington. The region receives 9-14 inches of rain per year, making it a dry area; thus, the trail system includes both shrub steppe (uplands) and riparian (along Cowiche Creek) habitats. We followed the main trail along the path of a rail line that was in use between 1913 and 1984 along the creek; however, the wetland is very narrow, in places constricted to less than 100 yards. Thus, I encountered plants from both environments.
The canyon walls are composed of a series of basalt ledges with intervening slopes covered by talus and colluvium, which are part of the shrub-steppe habitat. I discussed the geology of the area in another post.
The recreation area is maintained by the Cowiche Canyon Conservancy in partnership with Bureau of Land Management. This stone is a piece of the columnar basalt that lines the canyon.
It’s fortunate that I visited this area during spring, which lasts a little longer here in the Pacific Northwest. As always, I used CoPilot (AKA ChatGPT) for identification while I try to remember scraps of the huge amount of information presented in this mixed environment.
This is Asclepias speciosa, also known as showy milkweed. It is native to Yakima county and is a host species for Monarch butterflies.
The leafy shrub with dark leaves is snowberry–Symphoricarpos albus (or possibly S. oreophilus, which also occurs around Yakima).
The low, brightly colored shrub with straight stalks is probably wax currant (Ribes cereum). The bright green is small leaves and the small patches of pink–barely visible in the photo–are the flowers. These are both native plants.
CoPilot wasn’t so sure about this, but it might be Creek or Red-osier Dogwood (Cornus sericea). This specimen was growing in the bottom of the canyon, not far from Cowiche Creek, which is a natural location for this native riparian species. It will probably become a small tree.
This is my favorite from the walk. Silky lupine (Lupinus sericeus) is one of the signature wildflowers of eastern Washington. I sure am glad we caught them in bloom.
This looks like Pale‑stem buckwheat (Eriogonum heracleoides), another native wildflower to the shrub-steppe habitat.
My untrained eye thought this was Pale-stem buckwheat, but CoPilot pointed out the different leaf pattern and color. This is (probably) Sulphur Buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum), another common wildflower to Yakima County’s uplands.
Antelope bitterbrush (Purshia tridentata) is a foundation species of the steppe. This young one had lots of flowers, but the old ones have bare branches; and groups of them grow and die together in cohorts after a disturbance like a wildfire. Yet another native plant.
After some discussion, and sharing a close-up, CoPilot swears (hahaha) this is Woods’ rose (Rosa woodsii). However, its justification fits what I see with my own, somewhat confused eyes.
Here’s a close-up of the fruit. The shrub is covered with small nuts that have a distinctive shape, and are definitive for a wild rose. This is another native species to the steppe habitat of Eastern Washington.
This photo, looking across Cowiche Creek, puts it all together for me. On the other side of the canyon we see columnar jointed basalt, several plant species similar to snowberry, bitterbrush, and buckwheat. Along the creek are dogwood and wild rose; and in the foreground is (maybe) big sagebrush (Artemisia tridentata).
When I took this picture, all I saw was a bunch of plants. After carefully examining them with CoPilot, it has become a mixed riparian-shrub-steppe habitat. However, I didn’t see/hear any birds or other animals, even though it was a cool day with temperatures in the mid-sixties.
CoPilot was a great help, but it is not infallible–more like working with someone who has studied some biology/ecology. After all, it is only a Large Language Model, not an AI system trained on recognizing plant species. Nevertheless, it was a great collaborator and I learned a lot from our collaboration.
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. This is Jerusalem Sage or Phlomis fruticosa,. 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…
Timothy R. Keen 
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