Tumalo Mountain

The weather has turned now in early September; we're seeing cooler temperatures and blue skies mainly devoid of the wildfire smoke that has plagued us for the last five or so weeks. And so I am itching to get back out on the local trails after a spring with a busted foot and a summer punctuated with a hurt back and wildfire smoke. Moreso because we are just about to embark on visits to Boise, Walla Walla, and Truckee and those are going to keep me off the trails.

I have always wanted to climb Tumalo Mountain for its expansive views of this part of Central Oregon including wonderful glimpses of its neighbors Mt. Bachelor, Broken Top, South Sister, and Middle Sister. The peak of North Sister is just barely visible from this vantage point. I also wanted to experience the pretty good climb from the Dutchman Flats parking lot to the summit, from 6300 feet to 7700 feet, 1400 feet of ascent over two miles.

When Ann left the house for her fitness class, I set out Cascade Lakes Highway for the Dutchman Flats Sno-Park across the road from Mt. Bachelor. Eerily reminiscent of last year when we went ziplining at Bachelor in mid-September, the Wanoga Sno-Park was closed to stage firefighters and their equipment. This year, a small fire at Pete's Lake has firefighters creating fire breaks to hem the fire in so that it can burn itself out.

In a precautionary move, just east of the fire, they're also removing underbrush along the highway opposite Elk Lake and so the highway is closed at that point, attested to by lots of signage just at Mt. Bachelor. The Sunrise parking area at Bachelor was being used to stage fire equipment as well, but the amount of people, vehicles, and equipment paled in comparison to that staged for last year's massive Cedar Creek fire.

I arrived at the Dutchman parking lot in short order and started towards the summit on the trail that goes straight up from the western end of the parking lot. I recognized immediately that this trail has a pretty good slope. I would find my out-of-shape self having to stop to suck wind a few times toward the top. I set out at a pretty good pace because I was barely ahead of a large and noisy group, say a dozen, of seniors (I guess I am one of those too!) just starting up the hill. They were so obnoxiously loud that I really beat it for the first ten minutes to put them out of earshot. I was able to do this, but I was sucking wind as a result.

Immediately leaving the parking lot I found myself in pretty shaded and chilly woods, about 50 degrees, a mixed bag of Mountain Hemlocks, Engelmann Spruce, Lodgepole Pines, and a few random true firs. In this lower section of the mountain, I got chastised by a few Douglas' Squirrels while Juncos and various thrushes flitted quietly through the trees. Most of the thrushes were American Robins but occasionally I would glimpse a Hermit Thrush or two, working silently and diligently on dinner.

Silent Hermit Thrush

The middle section of the mountain is much more open, about half trees and grassy slopes, while the upper section of the mountain is largely exposed, punctuated here and there by trees. The mountain divides quite naturally into two zones right at 7000 feet. The mixed bag of conifers in the first 700 feet of elevation gives way quickly to mainly White Bark Pines at 7000 feet, continuing to the summit at 7700 feet where they are undergrown by mostly low and prostrate Common Junipers. These prickly trees seem only to be found at elevation around here. The much more common Western Junipers don't really grow at altitude and are hardly to be found on the west side of the Deschutes River, in any case. 

At one point, about 7000 feet up, I did a double-take: could that really be a coyote working through the scrub to my left at this elevation? They're super common at river level, but up on a mountain? No, they don't work that hard looking for food. As I was pondering this, I looked back up the trail in front of me to see a black and white XYZ-doodle coming down towards me. At this point, I realized that these were two domestic dogs and soon enough, the owner came striding down to me. He allowed that his one dog looks exactly like a coyote.

This far after Labor Day, there are not a lot of plants in bloom. I always think of September as the province of the asters and the rabbitbrush. And sure enough, the first blooms that I saw were indeed the light lavender of asters. We have two or three kinds at this altitude but I am not sure how to tell them apart. On the ride up, along the roadside, I had seen several low mounding plants covered in yellow blooms and I started seeing these same plants trailside in the more open areas. They looked like really short rabbitbrush plants, but with a slightly different bloom than our common Rubber Rabbitbrush. Consulting my handy-dandy apps and on-line references, I come to find out that we have another form of rabbitbrush called Bloomer's Rabbitbrush which grows at elevation. Cool! A new plant species for me.

An Alpine Aster

Aster Seedheads

Bloomer's Rabbitbrush, Ericameria bloomeri

Bloomer's Rabbitbrush Bloom Detail

Golden Mantled Ground Squirrel Amid Rabbitbrush

Wasp on a Rabbitbrush Bloom

Very Few Lupines Still in Bloom in September

Davis' Knotweed, Aconogonon davisiae,
It's Turning Red a Reliable Indicator of Fall

One thing that I really like about climbing to altitude in Central Oregon is the forms of the bleached and weather-bent tree snags, especially those formed by White Bark Pines. Interesting snags were everywhere on this hike. An abundance of snags usually means a lot of woodpeckers, though I only heard a couple and saw but a single Flicker. An abundance of White Bark Pines usually means a lot of noisy Clark's Nutcrackers which are practically symbiotic with those trees, though I neither saw nor heard any on Tumalo Mountain.

Moon Behind a Snag

Bloomer's Rabbitbrush Behind White Bark Pine Stumps

Drummond's Anemone, Anemone drummondii, at 7500 Feet Near Summit

Although it was sunny at the top and I was quite warm from the moderately steep climb, I was really happy to be wearing both a long-sleeved hoodie and long pants. Exposed as the summit is, there is little to stop the wind and the constant 15 or so mph winds dropped the effective temperature making me glad I had the foresight to anticipate them, or I might have had to cut short my taking in of the vistas.

Southwestern Flank of Bachelor, Red Cinder Cone is Kwohl Butte

First View of South Sister

Broken Top, Right; Middle and North Sister, Left

South Sister to Broken Top

White Bark Pines Undergrown by Common Juniper

Ski Runs at Bachelor

White Bark Pine Krummholz Trees

Remains of an Abandoned Fire Tower

Oh No! Is That Dust or a New Fire Starting Up?

After 15 to 20 minutes of counterclockwise circumnavigating the largely open, flat, and relatively expansive summit, I set out for my truck. The two-mile walk back down was in many ways much more difficult than the climb up. Admittedly, I was out of steam on the climb, but the descent, especially the final 15 minutes, was excruciatingly painful to my right knee. I stopped at one point to put my knee brace on and it helped a little, but still the walk down hurt pretty bad. I'd rather climb any day.

Still, the return trip to the truck did have its rewards. At one point, I found myself in a small flock of Mountain Chickadees who amused me greatly in flitting here and there noisily searching for food. And while I was stopped there, I noticed a Yellow-pine Chipmunk scurry atop a rock. Standing totally still so as not to spook the notoriously shy little rodent, I came to the realization over several seconds that the hillside was quite alive with the tiny little creatures who were stretched out on their hind legs greedily harvesting seeds from the Western Bottle-brush Grasses, Elymus elymoides, on the slope.

My knee was so thankful when I reached my truck, tossed in my pack, and headed back down out of the mountains for home, 25 minutes away. Tumalo Mountain was worth the effort.