Looking over a wall of salal along the trail heading to Shore Acres.
Tall conifer trees are a trademark of Oregon’s coastal forests. Large, long-lived, and stately, it is no wonder that we wonder about the trees. Still, there is a lot more to the forest than the canopy overhead. Shorter and multi-stemmed, shrubs offer another layer of fascination (literally) to our coastal forests—the understory. Shrubs have a lot to offer—between the many berries they produce to the cover they provide small birds and mammals shrubs have got it going on.
This short guide will tell you all you need to know about the shrubs that inhabit Oregon’s Coast Range Ecoregion. Learn some fun and interesting facts about each species, as well as key identification characteristics that will help you to tell them apart.
Salal (Gaultheria shallon)
It would be impossible to write a guide on coastal shrubs without including the ubiquitous salal shrub. Glossy, oval-shaped leaves with sharp tips alternate at angles along stiff branches. Salal is evergreen—meaning it retains its leathery leaves year round—making it a friendly sight even in winter. Rhizomatous, salal typically grows in dense thickets—sometimes to heights above the head. It also loves a dead stump for a home.
In the early spring, pinkish urn-shaped flowers emerge in rows, like hanging lanterns, from the ends of the branches. Not particularly showy, they offer a sign of good things to come. By summer, deep purple-blue berries replace the delicate flowers, offering a (though mealy) tasty trailside snack. The fact that there are so many of them, makes it easy to indulge—there is always plenty for the wildlife.
Salal leavesHike through a tunnel of salal at Cape Lookout.
Salmonberry (Rubus spectabilis)
A prickly trail companion, salmonberry shrubs are abundant along Oregon’s coastal trails, especially in drainages and near bodies of water. Thickets of salmonberry often cover small streams making them indistinguishable if it weren’t for the sound of their rushing waters. Salmonberry stems are armed with small thorns and curve and branch as they reach toward the sky—ranging in height from a couple of feet to 15. Leaves are set in triplicate—with doubly serrated leaflets; the central leaflet ending in a point, while the two lateral leaves are lobed. When observed together the leaves look a bit like a butterfly spreading its wings.
Bring pink/magenta flowers give way to a paler pink “raspberry” like fruit in early summer. Large ripe berries can be quite tasty and sweet but are pretty inconsistent. It is easy to miss these berries on taller shrubs as they can grow high above your head—just look up!
Salmonberry leaves and flowersThorny stems of salmonberry
Evergreen Huckleberry (Vaccinium ovatum)
A late bloomer, the evergreen huckleberry shrub keeps its tiny, finely toothed leaves year-round, and its berries late into fall and winter. This tall shrubby plant with sturdy branches and can grow up to 15 feet tall. Small, dark purple, and sweet berries grow in dense clusters originating from delicate, white to pink bell-shaped blooms. The evergreen huckleberry isn’t afraid of the dark growing in densely shaded forests and sunny open canopy alike.
Evergreen huckbleberry leaves and flowersEvergreen hucklberry growing in the shade along Gwen Creek trail
Red Huckleberry (Vaccinium parviflorum)
A deciduous shrub, the red huckleberry loses its thin leaves in the fall, exposing the distinctly angled bright green branches of the shrub. Like the evergreen huckleberry, red huckleberry has small, simple oval-shaped pointed leaves, but without a sharp tip or teeth on the margin. Small bell-shaped flowers grow singly, ripening into bright red berries that are edible—their sour flavor often overpowering any sweetness. Red huckleberry grows in a variety of moist sites and is a common inhabitant of nurse logs or stumps.
Red huckberry leaves and berries
Pacific Rhododendron (Rhododendron macrophyllum)
Crooked branches grow upwards, sometimes reaching about 12 feet in height; leathery elongated leaves 3-6 inches in length with tapered ends circle near the tips of each stem where large pink bugle-shaped flowers grow in clusters. Pacific Rhododendron is a showstopper when it blooms in late spring or early summer.
Leaves of the Pacific Rhododendron on a wet winter dayPacific Rhododendron’s showy flower clusters
Thimbleberry (Rubus parviflorus)
Fuzzy, hand-shaped leaves, like that of a maple, face the sun near the top of this delicate shrub. Crinkly white 5-petals bloom in spring in few-flowered clusters, later ripening into a soft bright red compound berry that stains your fingers and lips. A personal favorite to taste, there is nothing like finding a patch of these “thimble-shaped berries” along the trail—sweet with a bit of a sour kick—YUM!
Thimbleberry leavesThimbleberry leaves and flower to the right; salmonberry to the left and below
Black twinberry (Lonicera involucrata)
A thick-stemmed shrub reaching heights of about 10 feet with green simple elliptical leaves that grow opposite each other. The name twinberry is appropriate not just for the paired leaves, but the yellow tube-shaped flowers also come in pairs with two leafy bracts behind. Early summer blossoms give way to twin black-colored berries in late summer. Perhaps most striking, the green bracts also change from green to a deep red with ripening. Unlike other coastal shrubs, twinberry fruit is not recommended for eating. They are considered unpleasant, bitter, and contain toxins. Found mostly in more open environments, like along meadows and streams, this coastal shrub prefers at least partial sun.
Blacktwinberry’s distinct fruit with deep red bracts
Kinnikinnick (Arctostaphylos uva-ursi)
A low-growing, sprawling shrub—kinnikinnick grows in a variety of habitats, including sand, rocky, and dry meadows, as well as coniferous forests. Thick, shiny evergreen oval-shaped leaves alternate in quick succession from the red-brown branches forming a mat of green along the ground. Bright pink bell-shaped flowers grow in tight clusters from the branch tips. The fruits stick around through winter—bright red and glossy, the berries, though edible, must be fried or stewed before consuming.
Kinnickinnick leaves and berriesKinnickinnick is growing in a dense mat on the sandy ground
Coyote brush (Baccharis pilularis)
A coastal species commonly associated with scrub communities of California, coyote brush is found growing on bluffs, dunes, and open woodlands environments in Oregon. Bushy with many small alternating wedge-shaped leaves, though may be mat forming in sandy environments. The blue-green leaves are evergreen and sometimes sticky with widely spaced teeth along their margins. Individual plants may be male or female. Male plants produce tiny yellow flowers, while females produce white. Fruits are very small and dry (called achenes); tufts of hair-like projections carry mature seeds on the wind.
Coyote brush growing on Cascade HeadCoyote brush leaves in winter
Waxyleaf Silktassel (Garrya elliptica)
Another Oregon and California coast endemic—this evergreen shrub grows in a variety of coastal habitats including woodlands, dunes, bluffs, and chaparral. Waxy, thick oval-shaped leaves with wavy margins are opposite each other along the stem; the undersides of the leaves are velvety and soft. The flowers are catkins—slender, hanging structures. Striking foot-long male catkins are yellow turning gray, while female catkins are only a few inches and silvery. Fruits are clusters of dry blue to black berries.
Waxyleaf silktassel leaves and catkins
Western Azalea (Rhododendron occidentale)
Sweet-smelling blooms coupled with colorful blooms—the western azalea brightens up any hike with its presence. Elongated, shiny, 2–4-inch leaves, tapering at the ends, run alternate each other on this loosely branched shrub. Near the tips of the branches, leaves create a sunburst pattern behind dense clusters of fragrant white to pink trumpet-shaped flowers. A southern Oregon and northern California native, it prefers moist sites, but not too wet, and is known to grow on the nutrient-poor serpentine soils of the Klamath region.
Sweet smelling western azalea flowers
Pacific Bayberry or Pacific Wax Myrtle (Myrica californica)
A bushy-looking shrub with narrow, toothed leaves that seems to spiral as they alternate along the branches. An evergreen shrub, the leaves are dark green and leathery on top with a lighter underside. Look for white or black speckles on the paler bottom of the leaves. Crush the leaves and take a whiff—bayberry leaves give off a fresh spicy scent. The dark purple small round fruits of the bayberry are also fragrant and covered in wax—find them clustered near the shrub’s branches.
Pacific wax myrtle leavesPacific wax myrtle growing on Bayocean spit
Red Elderberry (Sambucus racemose)
Large compound leaves and bright red fruits best describe this lanky plant with swooping branches that reach above your head. Red elderberry is a delight to behold! Each leaf is made up of 5 to 7 narrow leaflets with serrated edges arranged opposite of each other from a central vein—all combined, just one leaf may be up to a foot long. Leaves are arranged opposite each other on sturdy branches with tiny, raised bumps, called lenticels, that allow for gas exchange. Pyramidal clusters of creamy white flowers blossom from the tips of branches, later ripening into tiny, shiny “berry-like” fruits, only about 1/8th inch in diameter. Do not eat these berries raw.
Young red elderberry leaves and flowersElderberry stem with lenticles
At first glance, a visit to Barnes Butte in Prineville looks a lot like much of central Oregon—a landscape of sage brush, juniper, and volcanic rimrock. It is difficult to imagine that Barnes Butte is, in fact, the inside edge of a massive supervolcano that—though now extinct—erupted more than 240 cubic miles of material forming a caldera roughly 29.5 million years ago.
Approximately 25 miles by 17 miles in size, the oblong-shaped Crooked River Caldera reaches from Smith Rock State Park in Terrebonne east to the Ochoco Reservoir and south to the Prineville Reservoir and Powell Buttes. For something so large, it might seem surprising that it wasn’t until 2005 that a couple of scientists first noticed its presence.
However, standing in the parking lot of Barnes Butte City Park with Carrie Gordon, a retired geologist, and willing hiking partner, it became obvious why such a large geological structure went unnoticed for so long. Seriously, what volcano?
The Hike
Trailhead: Barnes Butte Trailhead
Distance: Varies. (2.7 miles w/565 feet elevation to top)
Details: Large parking area; no pass required; No restrooms (port-a-potty may be available)
Introductions
It was a warm early fall day when I met Carrie in the parking lot of Barnes Butte City Park. Wildfire smoke created a haze across the skyline, but you could still just make out most of its features, including the Cascade Volcanoes in the distance.
Carrie, a small energetic woman, was all smiles as we gathered at her vehicle for introductions.
“I worked 40 years for the Forest Service,” Carrie said, “As a forest geologist.”
She explained that her job mainly entailed keeping track of material sources, like gravel.
“It is one of those careers that are just a hoot and a half,” she exclaimed.
Yes, this is Carrie. And we were just getting started.
Tall Tales
I asked Carrie to tell me about where we were standing. After all, I couldn’t see any so-called “volcano.” She quickly pulled out her geology maps from her vehicle to orient me to the space and began to weave the tale.
“Jason McClaughry and Mark Ferns from DOGAMI started mapping in 2005,” she said. Originally, “they were supposed to map a 7.5-minute quadrangle,” Carrie continued.
Plans quickly changed, however. McClaughry and Ferns were tasked with finding water resources for Prineville, but while mapping, certain geological features started reshaping their goals. By the end of the project, they had mapped over 903m2—and reshaped our understanding of central Oregon geology.
“The cool thing about geology,” Carrie began, “The rocks don’t change but the story changes. We add to our body of knowledge, and we can go, ‘oh okay’…”
Anatomy of a Calderas
Perhaps the most important change to the story that McClaughry and Ferns brought to light was the chapter on the Crooked River Caldera.
“Calderas are a little sneaky,” said Carrie.
Unlike, the very conspicuous Cascade peaks, “seeing” a caldera requires reading the landscape very differently. They are not peaks, rather, Calderas are mostly depressions.
Carrie explained: “Basic caldera formation is you have magma that is coming up to the Earth’s surface to the point you get a collapse.”
In the case of the Crooked River Caldera, these eruptions took place from about 29.7 to 27.5 million years ago. These were massive eruptions of rhyolitic lava, including volcanic tuff, that created a void below the volcano that eventually collapsed creating a 26 by 17-mile depression.
In addition, a ring fracture develops during caldera formation—allowing rhyolitic lava to intrude and bulge up along the side of the collapse.
Evidence of the ring fracture of the Crooked River Caldera can be seen at places like the Prineville Reservoir and Peter Ogden Wayside, where older rock that pre-dates the eruptions is tipping toward the interior of the caldera.
In addition, and perhaps even more obvious, rhyolitic domes can be observed marking the Crooked River Caldera Boundary. Carrie pointed to each—Powell Butte, Gray Butte, Grizzly Mountain, and, of course, Barnes Butte.
“This is the evidence that they [McClaughry and Ferns] found,” Carrie stated.
Looking out toward Gray Butte and Grizzly Peak (photo credit: Carrie Gordon)
Tuffs
I was beginning to see it—with many of the peaks visible from the parking lot—the caldera was taking form when Carrie whipped out another visual aid.
“I brought my box of rocks too,” she proclaimed.
Carrie pulled out two rocks with large flecks of material embedded within them—tuffs, I would soon find out.
“The cool thing about tuffs is they tell you about volcanic activity,” said Carrie. Tuffs are commonly associated with large violent eruptions as you see in caldera-forming.
“Tuffs are formed from bits and pieces of pumice and bits of rocks as it comes up through, in our case accreted terranes,” during an eruption, said Carrie. “It is a mishmash of stuff.”
Pulverized stuff mostly, like ash, but also some solid flecks of rock, like pale gray pumice, embedded in the matrix—that is tuff.
“It sparkles at you due to the crystal fraction in the ash,” described Carrie holding up two samples, her eyes sparkling more than the rocks.
Tuffs are also lighter than other forms of igneous rock, like other forms of rhyolite and basalt, as they are full of air pockets. She handed me one of the tuffs to weigh in my hand and basalt in the other—yep, I could feel the difference.
If you ever visited Smith Rock State Park, you have seen tuff. It is the tuffs that people mostly climb on.
“Easy to pound in your pins,” Carrie remarked.
Tuffs from the Crooked River Caldera
Geochemistry and Cooling
Carrie had other rock samples in her box. She pulled out a shiny, black rock called obsidian, and a striped rock called banded rhyolite.
“These are all rhyolite geochemistry,” said Carrie. “Rhyolite has higher silica content than basalt and it tends to be blocky when it chills.”
However, the similarities end there.
“The thing about rhyolite is it comes in so many different forms.”
Tuff is the result of violent eruptions that pulverize rock, while obsidian and banded rhyolite are both formed as lava flows.
Obsidian is glassy because it cooled quickly enough that crystals were unable to form. Banded rhyolite, on the other hand, forms crystals that capture the layering that often occurs as lava flows.
“This is what makes up Grizzly and Gray Butte…” Carrie added, holding up the banded rhyolite.
She continued, holding up the two tuffs she had pulled out originally.
Tuffs to the left and obsidian to the right
“These are the same rock,” she explained. Only one had undergone a form of hydrothermal alteration, turning it “pistachio green,” while the other more “beigy” rock had not.
“And that is tuff,” Carrie concluded, putting her rocks back in her box.
She also mentioned granite—another form of rhyolite formed by a slow cooling process under the Earth’s surface.
“It is the same composition as obsidian,” Carrie reiterated, but “buried a long time.”
Just one more reminder to not take your rhyolite for “granite” (pun intended).
More samples from Carrie’s box of rocks
Off to the Races
At this point, we had been chatting for about 20 minutes and decided it was about time to hit the trail. The trail system at Barnes Butte City Park is rather extensive, but we kept it simple and headed up the Jockey Trail that goes along the base of Barnes Butte—an old trail that the landowners used to run horses on.
As we started off on the rocky, dusty path, Carrie told me about the other trails that run through the park.
Apparently, much of the land was an old ranch. In addition to hiking the old horse track, there are also a lot of old cattle trails that are now hiking/biking trails that run through old grazing fields and around what used to be an irrigation pond.
Before that, there was even mercury mined on the Butte for a short time.
“See the main draw,” she said looking up toward the butte, “ there is an old BLM road that goes up to where the mercury mines in the 1940s are…. [The mercury mine is] courtesy of the caldera and volcanism.”
Mercury, lead, and gold, as well as Oregon’s state rock, the thunder eggs, rely on silica-rich waters to concentrate and form these minerals.
“You can take a footpath to the top of the butte,” Carrie added, “there are a lot of options.”
Rivers in the Sky
Soon we arrived at an embankment, apparently part of the old irrigation pond, when Carrie unexpectedly began hiking off the trail up the hill.
“What are you seeing?” she asked me, as I followed her onto the side of the embankment.
“Looks like some kind of layer of fine sandy stuff…” I responded hesitantly, “Oh, and the rocks are rounded.”
“You got it!” she proclaimed with a smile. “So, what we are seeing is lakebed and riverbed sands and cobble.”
Then turning, she pointed out to a suite of rimrock, lava plateaus.
“If you look across at our plateaus,” she explained, “you are looking at the old valley floors!”
She explained that each lava plateau was the result of an individual basalt eruption event (part of the Deschutes formation) that filled the valley at that point in time—the oldest being 7 million years old and the youngest only 3 million years.
Over time, the land area surrounding the lava-filled river channels eroded. As a result, what were once lowlands and river channels, are now basalt plateaus.
“This is inverted topography,” said Carrie—what was low is now high.
“What we are looking at here is the infill,” said Carrie looking back to the sand and cobbles, “the eroded remains of a valley bottom.”
Looking out at the lava plateaus
Perspectives
Carrie and I continue wrapping up and around the hill of infill where we could get a better view of the young lava flows and the much older rhyolite buttes of the Crooked River Caldera.
As we hiked, we passed by some bright yellow rabbitbrush still in bloom. Carrie told me how she uses it to make cloth dye; and we briefly got on a tangent regarding natural dyes—a side passion of Carrie’s.
“Rabbitbrush makes the best dye!” she proclaimed.
Speaking of color, Carrie pointed out a pale green patch of ground in the distance—to the left of Barnes Butte from where we stood.
She told me how she used to drive by and wondered at the green color—“it just stayed pistachio green” all year long. Eventually, she realized it was tuff.
Though the rock that makes up Barnes butte is a solid rhyolite dome, tuffs can be observed around Barnes Butte as a few outcroppings, and as what geologists call “float”—rocks that have moved from their place of origin.
Carrie pointed out a few outcroppings of Barnes Butte tuff that lay just in front of us—“the high points,” she noted.
A Step Back
Carrie also addressed the hills that lay on the far horizon, outside the Caldera’s boundary.
“Most of what we are looking at on the far horizon are Clarno andesites,” said Carrie looking east—volcanic rocks from a period preceding the Crooked River Caldera eruptions.
Of course, mixed up in all of it, is even older rocks. Accreted terranes—jumbles of earth materials that become permanently attached to a land mass of a completely different origin—make up the basement rocks of Oregon.
Carrie told me about how older maps used to show a pocket of limestone in the area. It was “weird” at first, but as Oregon’s geological story unfolded it became apparent that the limestone was from an accreted terrane. The limestone would have come from some distant shallow sea before it was added to the continent 100 to 400 million years ago by the forces of plate tectonics.
Only later it became part of the Crooked River Caldera. The past, literally, resurfacing by way of the Caldera’s eruption.
Flash Forward to Newberry
Carrie turned to face the interior of the Caldera again. There was still one more point in time to discuss.
In addition to the lava flows that make up many of the plateaus around Prineville, an even younger period of volcanic eruptions graced the Caldera in geologically recent times—the Newberry Volcanics.
Newberry has been erupting for the last 400,000 years and remains active today. Its most recent eruption was 1,300 years ago.
“Darn it all!” she exclaimed. “I was hoping it would be clearer…It [Newberry] is a big shield volcano,” said Carrie, “It barely shows over the horizon.”
Interestingly, some of Newberry’s flows reached into the Crooked River Caldera.
Carrie described one of these flows:
“That basalt flow was going down the ancestral Deschutes River, near O’Neil Junction, where it dropped into the Crooked River drainage, headed to Smith Rock. Here it smacked into Smith Rock pushing the Crooked River over to its present course.”
Those who have visited Smith Rock State Park and hiked any of its trails know this basalt flow as the calf-burning, heart-pumping climb out of the Crooked River Canyon, and back to the parking lot.
Next time you visit, “Look at what is at the bottom of the basalt flow…” advised Carrie. “There is river cobble there.”
Whether it is the Newberry basalt flow, or any one of the other flows that passed through, each time the Crooked River is displaced.
“It was doing its level best to be a valley bottom and these stupid basalt flows come in,” Carrie described in her own colorful way. “The river is like ‘okay, I will find another route’.”
Ashes to Ashes
At this point, Carrie and I resumed our walk along the old racetrack and took a left, wrapping around to the other side of the embankment facing Barnes Butte. Song birds flitted by as we walked.
“One of the best-kept secrets,” Carrie shared, “we have a nesting osprey pair here.”
As we meandered around the bend, Carrie pointed out what looked like really fine sand.
“This is volcanic ash,” she explained. “When Mazama erupted, we got a foot and a half of fine ash.”
Mount Mazama—a massive stratovolcano blew it’s top 7,700 years ago, forming a smaller caldera that has since filled with water forming Crater Lake.
Carrie continued: “One of the things that happened is the winds will blow ash and it will catch on the leeward side of the hill,” she explained.
Carrie then proceeded to scoop up a handful of the ash and show how me how to look at it with a hand lens—white pumice fragments and black hornblende or magnetite could be made out among the grains. Of course, her favorite part, and mine too, was to look at the ash in the sunlight.
“The best thing about volcanic ash is it winks at you,” said Carrie. “It is the reflection of the crystal fragment of volcanic ash.”
You don’t get that same winking with sand, explained Carrie. Only ash has the ability to sparkle.
Volcanic ash capable of winking in the sun
Blowing in the Wind
The ash is also important to the soil of the area. Loess—windblown sediment—is rich in many minerals and provides the starting material from which soil forms.
Of course, loess is not the only input into the area.
“Don’t forget we are in this pocket here,” reminded Carrie, “We had all the river systems and lake deposits that are actual sand and gravel.”
Alluvium—water-transported sediment—also contributes to soil formation, even in places you might not expect. Powell Butte, for example, is mostly covered with river sand.
“Something [i.e., a river] was moving across there at one time,” said Carrie.
Now, these old river channels are a ready source of water for the City of Prineville. When the City looked for places to tap for wells, surprisingly the best places were on the bottoms of the lava flows that once were river channels.
“This was the thing that blew me away,” Carrie smiled.
Barnes Butte
Carrie and I reached another junction and took the trail heading up Barnes Butte. As we climbed, we passed by several large hunks of reddish-brown rock. Unlike the rocks down below, these were not round, but jagged.
“All the hunks of rock are rhyolite,” said Carrie.
I asked Carrie how she knew it was rhyolite, aside from knowing where we are at. Carrie picked up a piece of the rock and knocked it against another.
“It sounds glassy,” she explained. “Part is how it sounds, and if you can heft it.”
According to Carrie, compared to basalt, another prolific volcanic rock, rhyolite is not as heavy. So if you find a gray rock that is relatively lighter and glassier, it could be rhyolite.
Juniper
As we continued up the rocky hill Carrie, I noticed a juniper with its roots clinging to a juniper tree.
Off-hand I asked Carrie, “Do junipers like rhyolite?”
Surprisingly, she answered in the affirmative.
“That’s a cool story!” Carrie proclaimed. “Western Juniper has become invasive.”
Though western juniper is a species native to central Oregon, it has been creeping into areas that it normally wouldn’t. Fire exclusion, grazing pressure, and climate variability have all been cited as reasons for the spread of the waster juniper.
“And it uses a lot of water,” Carrie added, a highly valued resource in the area.
“This is all rangeland,” Carrie explained, it should have “more grasses and sagebrush component.”
In short, western juniper shouldn’t be so prevalent.
Instead, according to Carrie, western juniper is a first colonizer. Its range historically was limited to rocky areas—like our rock-grasping juniper.
“This is a rhyolite knob,” concluded Carrie, “and this is a very well-behaved juniper.”
Well-behaved journal growing from rhyolite rocks
Lichen
We continued up the Barnes Butte for a stretch but then decided to turn around. I was curious about finding tuff, so Carrie suggested we check the lower trail.
As we walked, I started noticing all the lichen and moss growing on the rhyolite and asked Carrie about it.
“Are they picky?” I asked, wondering if only certain lichen grow on certain kinds of rock.
Carrie didn’t think so, but instead mentioned how they might be used to age-date rocks.
Estimates of the age of a rock can be estimated based on the growth and size of the lichen that grows on it.
“Has the rock been sitting in place?” Carrie asked rhetorically. “Then you can get some age dates.”
Additionally, some plants do seem to prefer certain rock types. During the mapping of Mill Creek—an area adjacent to the Crooked River Caldera—McClaughry and Ferns found that, following a fire, much of the rhyolitic rocks were being colonized with manzanita. Manzanita soon became an indicator of rhyolite geology during the mapping.
Lichen growing on rhyolite
Recommendations
As we continued downhill, Carrie spotted some of the green tuff as float (loose rock) along the pathway—more evidence that we were, in fact, in a Caldera.
As we walked, Carrie offered me a lot of recommendations—video recommendations, places to visit, and hikes to take. She had a real knack for suggesting hikes I hadn’t been on.
But perhaps the strongest suggestion she has was to check out some of the Crooked River Caldera sites.
One of these places was Pilot Butte. (Yep, I hadn’t hiked it yet.)
You can see the Cascade Volcanoes from Pilot Butte—” a lovely white line of volcanoes,” as Carrie put it, but she wanted to make sure I didn’t miss the main event.
“It [the Crooked River Caldera] is one huge volcano compared to the pretty pristine cones,” she added.
Other places she recommended for observing attributes of the Caldera include the Prineville Reservoir, Peter Skene Ogden State Park, Ochoco Reservoir, and, of course, Smith Rock.
I recommend hiking with Carrie. She is a hoot-and-a-half.
Carrie Gordon is a retired forest geologist. She was the Forest Geologist on the Ochoco National Forest and Crooked River National Grassland, U.S. Forest Service, headquartered in Prineville, OR. She retired in 2017. Carrie is also an active member of the Central Oregon Geoscience Society and an Oregon Master Naturalist through the OSU extension program. Carrie has had a life-long fascination with the land and the rocks, listening to the stories they tell.
