Author: emjelo2000

The land and ocean may seem like separate entities—one solid and secure and the other a watery depth—but the connection between the two is multifold and profound.

Salmonids provide one such connection. Salmon are considered anadromous, meaning they travel between their freshwater birthplace, to the ocean, and back. Upon returning home, they spawn the next generation of salmon before they inevitably die—completing their lifecycle.

By feeding in the ocean for anywhere from two to seven years, depending on the species, salmon bring marine nutrients to the terrestrial environment. Streamside vegetation gets anywhere from just under 25% to 70% of its nitrogen from salmon. Studies have shown in at least some instances, trees grow faster near salmon nesting grounds.

Salmon are also culturally important fish—providing food for people of the Pacific Northwest for thousands of years.  And, in modern times, salmon fisheries have grown in scale and significance. As a result, salmon have also received a lot of attention from the scientific world.

Yet, despite the vast amount of research done on salmon, there is still a lot that is unknown about salmonid species, especially when it comes to their time spent in the ocean.

This is where Laurie Weitkamp comes in. A marine ecologist with NOAA, Laurie has been studying salmon her entire career—working to understand their complex behaviors and lifestyles to better inform fisheries management. In recent years, she has joined multi-week expeditions in the Pacific Ocean in pursuit of a better understanding of their marine life.

I met with Laurie at a local trail in Newport with the hopes of gaining keener insight into her research. We also planned to hunt for chanterelle mushrooms along the way.

Fish and fungi—now there is nothing more Pacific Northwest than that!

Conserving Fish

Laurie and I began our hike on a gravel road shaded by Sitka spruce and western hemlock—a quintessential coastal forest. It had rained a lot the night before, but this morning was mild and comfortable as we followed the road downhill.

As we walked, I asked Laurie for a quick bio.

“I have been a research fisheries biologist for the Northwest Fisheries Science Center—one of, I think, six regional Centers around the country, and part of NOAA fisheries,” Laurie described. “I have been doing this for 30 years now.”

“Congratulations,” I exclaimed. “That is an accomplishment.”

So, what has Laurie been up to these last 30  years?

It turns out, quite a lot!

Laurie is a salmon biologist with a strong focus on salmon conservation. One of her main projects over the years has been to provide 5-year status updates on West Coast Coho—a  threatened salmon species under the Endangered Species Act. In fact, she was the lead author of the West Coast Coho Status Review which led to its original listing back in 1994-95.

“We just finished our status review update with data from 2019,” said Laurie.

You couldn’t tell just by looking at her, but Laurie is a rockstar salmon biologist.

Hatchery Fish Problem

As Laurie and I continued following the gravel path, we got to talking about the hatchery fish problem. 

Hatchery fish are ubiquitous. Bred to improve salmon populations, but they have taken a toll on wild population fitness.

In fact, according to Laurie, stray hatchery fish was a major factor in the original ESA listing for Coho. 

“Hatchery fish are essential to fisheries,” Laurie explained, but when we don’t keep tabs on them, that creates a problem. “You can’t tell what is going on [to wild populations],” in that case.

“There is a lot of evidence that when you get all of these hatchery fish it depressed the fitness of wild populations,” Laurie went on.

There are studies that have shown this. Breed a wild fish with a hatchery fish and they have fewer offspring. Though it is unclear why.

For these reasons, Laurie has differentiated between hatchery fish and wild fish populations in her conservation and policy work.

Wild populations “are the building blocks,” she explained. “They are critical to the continuation of the species,” deemed “evolutionarily significant.”

Stay Wild

Therefore, to keep wild populations wild, a few things needed to change.

Fortunately, a lot has changed since the original ESA listings.

“One of the things the state of Oregon did is close down all the Oregon Coast hatcheries. We went from eight million to 300,000 hatchery fish, so they effectively shut down.”

The other thing that changed is Oregon started marking hatchery fish by removing their adipose fin before releasing them.

“It is all automated,” said Laurie. “They go into a slot, measure how long the fish is… and clip…thousands are done per hour.”

The results of these changes have been positive.

For one, the “wild population increased in productivity by 25%,” said Laurie.

Second, these “evolutionarily significant” wild fish are protected from fishermen. “

You aren’t allowed to keep anything that has an adipose fin,” Laurie explained. “That is huge! And in response to ESA listing.”

Change is a Coming

The ESA listing of salmon species has resulted in other changes as well.

For example, land policy has changed. Laurie mentioned the Oregon Forest Practices Act update—requiring larger buffer zones on streams to protect fish.

Despite these changes, salmon populations are still struggling. Marine heatwaves have knocked down populations. And no ESA-listed salmon population has been delisted.

For some, this may be seen as a failure, but not for Laurie.

“It is impressive,” she stated. “None have been taken off, but none have gone extinct.”

And there have been some wins too. Laurie told me that about 1 million sockeye returned to the Columbia this year to spawn. Perhaps the largest sockeye run since the Columbia River dams went in back in the 1930s.

Not bad, considering what salmon are up against.

Segue into Research

As we continued past more second-growth Sitka spruce on moss and fern-covered slopes, we saw someone coming from the opposite direction with a basket of chanterelles—the popular mushroom that we planned to hunt for that day.

Laurie playfully asked if had left some behind. He offered a quick “no” and a chuckle. Laurie laughed too, undeterred. Her positivity was infectious.

Then Laurie gracefully segued into her research work.

“I am trying to understand what goes on in the Ocean,” Laurie explained.

You may recall, salmon are anadromous fish. They are born in freshwater, but then spend a lot of their lives in the Ocean—some salmon species up to 7 or 8 years—before returning to their natal stream to spawn. 

“A vast majority of the little guys don’t make it back,” said Laurie. “Some 95-99% of salmon that enter the Ocean do not survive…. That is kinda the odds.”

Laurie was quick to clarify that these odds are not unusual or necessarily related to human impacts. It is their survival strategy.

“The average female lays 3000 eggs,” said Laurie, “two need to survive.”

So, the question is Why? Why do so few salmon make it back?

This is the question Laurie has been aiming to answer.

Bottom-up

According to Laurie, there are two main approaches to consider when it comes to salmon loss—either top-down or bottom-up. The bottom-up approach considers how populations are controlled by the organisms at the trophic level below them, i.e., their food.

In the case of salmon, it requires looking at prey availability for the species. Depending on the species, this might be krill, jellyfish, or smaller forage fish.

So, what does Laurie’s research suggest regarding this bottom-up approach?

“If the water is cold and there is a lot of prey available,” said Laurie, “[salmon] do well.”

In other words, both cold temperatures, which help with upwelling and make the Ocean more productive, and food availability work together to regulate salmon.

According to Laurie, there is a lot of evidence that points to bottom-up being “really important.”

It is also relatively easy to study—just catch a few salmon and look in their stomachs—but it is only half the equation.

Top-down

A top-down approach suggests the opposite—that populations are controlled by organisms at the trophic level above them, i.e. their predators.

Salmon predators are numerous and become even more numerous as the oceans warm.

“When the water is really warm,” explained Laurie, “you get warm water predators that come up [from the south],” like hake or pacific whiting.

“Hake are incredibly abundant fish,” said Laurie.

Normally summer guests, with ocean warming, hake are extending their stay in the Pacific Northwest for a longer amount of time.

I Hake you

At this point, you may be thinking:

So, just how much salmon are hake consuming?

Turns out the answer is complicated.

Laurie told me about a study she was involved in that looked at how much mackerels and hake predated on salmon as they came out of the Columbia. They sampled thousands of these predators’ stomachs for about ten years and found less than a dozen salmon in their stomach contents.

“Salmon are pretty rare,” Laurie explained. “There are a hundred times more other anchovies out there that they [mackerels and hake] are feeding on.”

To add to the difficulty, the stomach contents of any fish only reflect the last 24 hours of feeding. Eat a salmon on Tuesday, by same time Wednesday, any sign that the feeding took place is gone.

Take Terns

Seabirds, like terns and cormorants, are another predator of salmon that scientists are watching.

In this case, some researchers are using tagged salmon to monitor their predation.

“They [the researchers] put pit tags in individual fish,” Laurie explained. As the birds eat the fish, they also consume their pit tags.

“Then they go over the tern and cormorant colonies after they left in winter or fall… They run over the thing and detect the salmon that were eaten and pooped out in the bird colonies.”

Counting pit tags, “those are the easy situations,” Laurie admitted.

In short, “Predation is really hard to study.”

Chanterelles

We had been hiking for about 45 minutes when we passed one of Laurie’s chanterelle spots. The ground was covered in moss and growing thick with salal and evergreen huckleberry. Tall Sitka spruce trees with their cylindrical trunks made up the overstory.

“It has not been a very good chanterelle year,” Laurie remarked as she searched the edge of the woods.

However, soon enough Laurie found one of the golden beauties.

“Chanterelles look like that,” Laurie held up her find, “with an irregular shape… and they have branched gills that are primitive gills.”

In contrast, false chanterelles have an uneven coloring compared to chanterelles—“dark in the middle and light on edges.” False chanterelles also have true gills that fork near the cap margins. 

There were a lot of false chanterelles.

Nutrient Connection

As we searched the area for more chanterelles, I asked Laurie if there was any connection between salmon and chanterelles.

Her answer was a brisk “no,” but just as quickly, she reconsidered. Laurie had a quick wit about her.

“Well habitats that are good for chanterelles are also good for salmon,” she noted.

It turns out I was in the right habitat at that moment—soon I had a couple of good-sized chanterelles in my possession.

“Found two!”

Speaking of seconds, I suggested to Laurie another connection between salmon and chanterelles—nutrients.

Salmonids have a unique role in nutrient cycling—they carry marine nutrients from the ocean to inland areas. From here, fungi help decompose the dead salmon bodies, or the waste generated from an organism that consumed their bodies, releasing those marine nutrients to fertilize the coastal forest. 

“There is all kinds of work that shows that trees grow faster along salmon runs,” Laurie observed.

She also mentioned the role lamprey, another anadromous species, plays in fertilizing the forest.

“It is really cool because they bring up nutrients as well,” said Laurie. “They can go up vertical surfaces…” she explained, “and they can get into places salmon cannot, and fertilize streams that salmon cannot.”

At this point we had exhausted our chanterelle patch, so we headed back to the road.

Not long after, we passed by a disturbed area where I noticed a stand of skinny alder trees. Dark green alder leaves lay scattered on the ground—another good fertilizer. Fish fungi, and trees—all helping keep the forest green.

High Seas

We were about halfway through our hike when we turned onto another road.  The plan was to travel it for a while before taking a bike path back to complete a loop. This was our migratory route.  But what of our fish?

As mentioned earlier, salmon move from freshwater to the ocean and back again—sometimes spending years fattening up in a marine environment. But, last I checked, the ocean is huge.

Which begs the question—where do salmon go once, they reach the deep blue?

“They head north,” Laurie asserted. Or at least most do.

Sockeye, chum, and coho all head up to Cape Flattery then onto Canada and Alaska, according to Laurie. They follow the continental shelf for a season, their paths tracked as they pass various outposts along the way, before dropping off the shelf and entering the “deep sea.”

Though, they may as well be dropping off the face of the Earth because, at that point, they could be anywhere.

“We don’t see them again until they come home,” explained Laurie. “It is like a huge washing machine out there.”

It is Laurie’s work to visit the washing machine, but more on that later.

Keeping Track

As we crunched along the gravel road, I asked Laurie to tell me more about how scientists were tracking fish.

Even before salmon enter the deep sea, they are difficult to track. As Laurie put it—“we get mixed results.”

“The number of fish you need to tag to get robust results has been really limited,” she explained.

At the same time, knowing the populations and how they are doing is important work. Salmon are valuable and cross [international ]borders.

Laurie told me about the Fraser Sockeye, for example—a large and extremely valuable fish. So valuable that a treaty was established between several tribes of western Washington, the U.S. government, Canada, plus U.S. states and Canadian provinces to ensure the fishery is sustainable.

So, tracking matters because salmon matter. They matter enough for international treaties to be enacted.

Fish are tracked in several ways. When it comes to the Fraser Sockeye, acoustic tags are used. These send out unique radio signals, allowing you to identify individual fish. The drawback is you need receivers close enough to hear the signal.

“The continental shelf in some areas is 30 miles wide. That is a lot of real estate,” Laurie proclaimed.

Another option is to use satellite tags. A benefit of satellite tags is that you can see where the fish is, as well as other data like temperature, pressure, and depth from anywhere. The drawbacks are that you must get the tag back to download all the data and, because of the size of the tags, only older adult fish can carry them.

Laurie told me about a study using satellite tags where researchers were getting a slightly elevated constant temperature reading from their chinook for a long period of time.  

“What they think is that salmon sharks were consuming these Chinook,” Laurie laughed. The constant temperature was recorded from inside the digestive tracks of the salmon sharks. 

Eaten

A break in the trees brightened the path as we reached a high point in the trail. Though the sky was overcast with clouds, the light from the sun cast a dim reminder of its existence through the gray shroud.

Laurie shifted the conversation back to her work on the high seas. This is where things get even more murky.

Laurie started by talking about her work detecting salmon predators on the high seas.

“It is really hard to figure out,” Laurie stated. “It is hard to tell who is doing the predating and when…. Are they [predators] only getting the small fish [salmon] or the sick fish [salmon]?”

In 2019, 2020, and 2022, Laurie and her team did an extensive study of salmon predators using eDNA and didn’t find many.

eDNA is a newer technology, where water samples are gathered and sent into a lab to be tested for the DNA of species of interest, like salmon predators. Because organisms are constantly sloughing off DNA, this is a good way to gauge the presence of a species even when it is not caught in nets.

“We found a couple of predatory salmon sharks and a couple of fish, lancetfish, and daggertooths, that eat strips of salmon…,” said Laurie.

“They aren’t here. We are not catching them in the nets or detecting their DNA.”

Starving

So, what is going on?

Another “arm-chair hypothesis” is that the salmon are starving during the winter. Salmon that don’t get fat over the summer don’t survive onces winter arrives. This would be especially important for small fish because they can’t store much energy.  Laurie and her team tested this hypothesis.

“We get out there and ocean age 1 fish are going great, but 2s and 3s are not looking great,” said Laurie. “They are really skinny.”

They took blood samples of the fish to test for Insulin Growth Factor (IGF)—a chemical that signals healthy growth in fish. As expected, fish that were in the ocean for 1 year, have high levels of IGF.

But those in year 2 or 3 had either really high levels or really low levels.  They also had green gallbladders—a sign of starvation.

“What’s going on?” asked Laurie.

It is still unclear.

“You answer one question,” Laurie smiled, “and you generate five.”

Do We Stay or Do We Go

Not all salmon spend a lot of time in the ocean, however,“it depends on the species”—a statement I heard a lot from Laurie.

Chum and sockeye are really the only ones with an extended high seas stay.

“What we think happens is they spend winters in the Gulf of Alaska and move into the Bering Sea in the summer until they are ready to come home.”

“Others are only a year,” said Laurie, like Coho.

Then there is fall chinook…

“Fall chinook stay on the continental shelf,” said Laurie. They travel back and forth along the coast for years before returning.

Every species has its own way.

“What is really cool is the whole idea of these chum salmon ages 2 and 3 being skinny. All different stocks are together in the Bering Sea.”

Bang for your Buck

Laurie and I reached our turn-off onto a mountain biker trail. Steep and a little slippery, we both carefully navigated our way down the path.

Laurie pointed out a patch of slippery jack mushrooms as we passed by.

“People do eat them,” she noted, but their slimy appearance didn’t appeal to either of us, so we trod on. 

“Anyway, there is all kinds of really cool stuff we are finding being out there [at sea],” Laurie proclaimed. She had a knack for transitions. “It is also really expensive… 32 days at $30,000 per day.”

With that sort of price tag, a lot of work happens before these expeditions to plan and prepare. Using freshwater data and developing hypotheses are vital steps to take beforehand. 

“The idea is we are trying to get the most bang for our buck…” Laurie explained.  “Using the information [from other sources] so when we are not out there, we can still understand what is going on.”

Food for Thought

While we were talking, suddenly Laurie made bee-lined it off the trail—a massive burnt orange-colored lobster mushroom was growing just off the trail.

“Wow!” Laurie exclaimed, “I don’t think I have ever seen this large a lobster. These are one of my favorites!”

Unfortunately, it was a bit too old and soft to take home and eat, but we took a picture of it to commemorate the find.

“Still cool…” Laurie said as she put it down on the mossy ground.

My mind turned to food, I asked—“What are they eating?”

“Depends on the species,” said Laurie.

Hmmm, that sounds oddly familiar.

“Sockeye and Pink salmon eat low in the food chain—a lot of zooplankton.”

Sockeye’s red flesh is a result of carotenoids from zooplankton being incorporated into their tissue.

“So, the chum are famous for eating a lot of gelatinous stuff,” Laurie continued, “like jellyfish and evolutionary dead ends, like tunicates, they tend to like.”

“Coho, Chinook, and steelhead start with zooplankton and graduate to larval and juvenile fish and squid.”

It’s Getting Hot in Here

Soon we were off the biker trail and on another gravel road. We passed by some salmonberry shrubs—“any connection there?” I asked, referring to salmon.

“Nope, they just look like their eggs,” said Laurie. That’s what I thought, but worth an ask.

We passed by some more possible chanterelle spots, but only picked one more immature mushroom.

We climbed up onto a small, forested hill next to a creek to check for chanterelles. The hill was dense, shaded, and cool.

While we foraged around, I asked Laurie what she thought the underlying issues were for salmon success. Does it come down to getting enough food?

Though she agreed that food was a big part of it, she was quick to point out that it was probably not just one thing, but rather a host of interacting factors.

High ocean temperatures, for example, impacts many of the other factors associated with salmon success, including food availability.

“The ocean absorbs 90% of the excess heat that we have been putting into the atmosphere,” Laurie stated. “Climate warming is really ocean warming. Even below 5000 meters, it is getting warmer.”

Ocean warming is a factor that cannot be ignored.

Beaver Believers

A murky creek slogged along a the bottom of the forest.

“That is great coho salmon,” said Laurie. “They love side channels in the winter.”

Coho salmon are Laurie’s specialty, having studied them more than any other species. Though a coastal species, they spend a lot less time in the ocean than other species—only a year, though some males may only spend six months—and more time in freshwater.

I asked Laurie if she could tell me anything else about coho that makes them unique. Her response—beaver.

“Coho benefits the most from returning beavers,” said Laurie. “They really do well with beaver ponds.”

Beaver are what are called ecosystem engineers—they transform bottomlands, creating ponds pools, and wetlands.  As Laurie put it, “They create “killer coho habitat.” 

Laurie told me about early coho research she did in 1987 in Alaska. They would follow the coastal streams up, stopping at each beaver pond to catch count, measure, and weigh coho. Even five beaver dams up, they were still catching coho.

“Coho were flourishing in these beaver ponds,” said Laurie. “They know how to get through the dams.”

Young steelhead and spring chinook love riffles and high mountain streams. Not coho. They like low-gradient streams with connected floodplains.

And of course, they love beavers. 

Own up

However, good coho habitat is not easy to come by, as many of the places coho and beaver enjoys, humans like as well.

As Laurie and I popped back onto the gravel road to continue our journey back to our cars, I asked Laurie if there was anything people could do to help coho and other salmon species.

“The biggest thing is just taking ownership,” said Laurie. Understanding that everyone can be either part of the problem or part of the solution is an important first step.

Next, get involved. Laurie suggested participating in local watershed counsels and estuary conservation groups.  A lot of times these groups will have opportunities to give back, including planting native vegetation.

Beyond this, “there are easy things you can do,” Laurie exclaimed—“don’t pour oil down the storm drain… think about what you are going to have in your yard…,” she suggested for example. 

Reducing pollution and creating natural filters that slow water, are both helpful to fish. High flows can scour out salmon nests, called redds, and carry silt that smothers salmon eggs.

Pollutants can sometimes accumulate in salmon in high concentrations, reducing their ability to fight off disease and sometimes killing them outright before they can spawn. Laurie mentioned a tire preservative that has increased pre-spawning mortality in salmon.

“Even in high seas, they [salmon] have detectible levels [of pollution],” said Laurie.

Sea Legs

Laurie and I continued to discuss the challenges facing salmon as we hiked the gravel road, a better option for salmon than pavement.

We passed by a newt that was exceptionally skinny. Could it be feeling the same strains as salmon feel with winter coming on? I wonder.

 I could see the gate ahead of us when I asked Laurie about what it was like to work on the high seas.

“Some days, I think, I can’t believe I am getting paid to be out here,” she smiled, “Other days, I think, they are not paying me enough.”

Laurie has been going to sea for the last 30 years with several weeks on the boat each time. That is a lot of hours clocked on a moving vessel. The seasickness and tight quarters get to you at times, but then there are moments of pure joy and wonder.

Sauté  

Soon we are back to our vehicles. We stood and chatted for a few more minutes about lamprey and the vastness of the ocean before we decided to part ways.

As I began to walk off, Laurie gave me one more piece of advice—“Cook them in a dry pan,” said Laurie, referring to the chanterelles, “medium heat.”

And with that, I migrated home. Fish, fungi, forest, and me—we are all connected.

Laurie Weitkamp is a Research Fisheries Biologist with the Northwest Fisheries Science Center since 1992.

Hiking along the dry, dusty trail that leads out onto the Rough and Ready Flat on a hot summer day, it is hard to fathom how ecologically significant it is. Strewn with rocks and sparse vegetation, including a few straggly-looking trees, it is no Amazonian rainforest. Yet, it hosts a spectacular array of botanical delights that deserve a closer look.

Rough and Ready is one of only about 200 biologically outstanding areas in the United States and is home to the greatest amount of plant biodiversity in the State of Oregon. So, though it may appear desolate, it is a botanist’s dreamscape—full of a variety of native and endemic species!

Of course, I had to check it out! This is what brings me back to that dry dusty trail, where I met with BLM Botanist, Amanda Snodgrass, to learn more about Rough and Ready Botanical Wayside near Cave Junction, OR, and what it is like to be a botanist.

The Hike

• Trailhead: Rough and Ready Botanical Wayside
• Distance: 0.3 mile interpretive trail with the option to extend the hike by following established road tracks.
• Details: Ample parking at trailhead. Covered picnic table is available at the trailhead with another table near the end of the trail. No restroom.

On Being a Field Botanist

It was early morning but already warm as Amanda and I strode across Rough and Ready, taking the only trail out onto the flat lands.

Energy high, Amanda told me a bit about her background as a Botanist.

Originally from Iowa, Amanda moved to the area in 2018 and only recently, about eight months ago, took up her post as a Field Office Botanist for the BLM Medford District. She had become fascinated by plants at a young age during a trip to Hawaii and has enjoyed studying and learning about them ever since.

“I like plants. I am a plant person,” Amanda remarked. “They are pretty and resilient, and they don’t talk back.”

Zingers, like this one, seemed to tumble out of Amanda. For a self-professed plant person, she was rather personable. Even though she claimed, “plant people usually aren’t people, people.”

I asked Amanda to explain more about what it is like to be a “plant person,” or more professionally speaking, a field botanist.

“I oversee the botanist program for the Grants Pass field office,” Amanda explained. “I do a lot of fieldwork, but I also do a lot of paperwork.”

Most of that paperwork is around managing botanical resources in terms of NEPA (National Environmental Policy Act). BLM land is managed for multiple uses, so that means it may be used for a variety of activities, like recreation, mining, or extracting forest products. Amanda’s job is to ensure important botanical resources are protected while still allowing for these activities.

“I still get to do a lot of fun stuff, too,” said Amanda, “like plant surveys, monitoring, restoration work, and a lot of invasive species management.”

According to Amanda, the job is “50/50,” about half of her day-to-day is paperwork and the other half is with the plants. It was clear what part is her favorite. 

Meandering

As we meandered down the trail, Amanda described some of what goes into surveys and monitoring for a field botanist.

One of the hallmark surveys she conducts is a “clearance survey.” These are done whenever there is going to be a disturbance in the areas to check for rare species, as well as gather basic information on habitat type and species associations to measure overall ecosystem health.

Long-term monitoring, revisits, plots, and transects… all of these are part of a botanist day to day fieldwork.

Perhaps most intriguing was Amanda’s mention of a “meandering survey.” “It is intuitively controlled,” she explained. Essentially, you are looking at the habitat and predicting what species may be present, and then wander around to see if you can find said species.

“It’s a botany special,” smirked Amanda.

Rough and Ready

We ambled further into Rough and Ready.

I began to take notes of the ecosystem around us.  We passed by a view down to wide and braided, Rough and Ready Creek rushing over a bed of cobbles. Low shrubs, mostly ceanothus ran in clumps along the trail with wide sections of open ground where grasses and herbaceous plants grew in scarce quantities. A few pine trees marked the canopy, separated by 10s-of-feet. Flashes of color came from a few wildflowers. The ground itself was gritty, and rocky, appearing less than hospitable to the vegetation—yet stuff was growing.

According to Amanda, Rough and Ready is a part of the Klamath-Siskiyou ecoregion known as the Illinois River Valley. To start, these ecoregions are known for their botanical diversity. But when you add in the unique characteristics of Rough and Ready, the biodiversity is even more amplified.

“It is one of the most botanically biodiverse ecosystems in North America,” said Amanda. While in Oregon, is considered the most botanically diverse. That is nothing to snuff at.

So, I asked Amanda, “Why?” What is it about Rough and Ready?

“It has its own special characteristics,” Amanda responded.

She went on to explain how it is the unique geology, hydrology, and climate that help provide opportunities for diversity to flourish. 

Geologically speaking it has serpentine soils—“aged metamorphic soil, high in minerals like magnesium and nickel.”

Heavily mineralized, ultramafic soil is difficult for most plants—making important nutrients like calcium and nitrogen unavailable, while subjecting plants to heavy metals at toxic levels. 

“Many plants can’t grow in it and the ones that do often can only grow on it,” Amanda elaborated. 

Additionally, Rough and Ready is unique hydrologically, receiving more rainfall compared to adjacent areas.

“It can get over 100 inches of rain a year!” Amanda exclaimed.

Water is carried down from the mountains and distributed onto a broad alluvial floodplain and alluvial bench which hosts a variety of species.

The climate at Rough and Ready is also variable throughout the watershed.

“It has several elevations,” stated Amanda.

With influences from the Pacific Ocean, Coast Ranges, Cascade peaks, and the deserts of the Great Basin, the area has a variety of habitat zones, determined by the physiology and changes in precipitation levels that shift with elevation.

All in all, this makes Rough and Ready “second in North America for endemism,” according to Amanda. In other words, there are a lot of unique species here that you wouldn’t find anywhere outside the region.   

“Are we going to find any of them?” I asked.

 “Yes, they are all around!” exclaimed Amanda jubilantly.

Pining for Pines

At this point, we reached a tall berm of ultramafic, heavily mineralized soil.

“Well, the trail work must have stopped here,” smiled Amanda, as we climbed over the barrier.

After successfully navigating over the dry sluff of soil, it was time to get down to business—the business of plants.

“Are these all Jeffery Pines?” I asked Amanda, pointing to the nearest tree that stood a few feet off the trail.

“Yes,” she responded, “we have a really high percentage of Jefferey Pines. Though in this spot they tend to be straggly.”

Again, the soil was doing its thing—binding the nutrients and stunting growth.

Amanda was a bit surprised by my enthusiasm for the trees, but she was willing to humor me.

Jefferey Pine (Pinus jeffreyi) is one of only two species of pine that has needles bundled in groups of three in Oregon. The other species, Ponderosa Pine (Pinus ponderosa), is much more common and also found at Rough and Ready. So, how can one distinguish between these two look-alikes?

“Gentle Jeffery,” Amanda mused… “and Poky Ponderosa.”

She went on to explain that one of the best ways to tell these two pines apart is by their cones. Ponderosa Pine’s cones tend to be larger, at least 6 inches with more pronounced sharp prickles on their scales; while Jeffery Pine’s cones are usually smaller than 6 inches, with scales that point inward. The needle colors can also be a distinguishing factor—Jeffrey Pines have greenish gray needles and Ponderosa have bright green to yellow needles.

“Sometimes you can smell them,” she added. Ponderosa Pine usually has a sweet scent like pineapple or vanilla.

Of course, this is one place where relying on all your senses might come in especially handy.

“A lot of places there is only one type of pine,” Amanda extolled. But, “Oregon is home to roughly 30 species of conifers, and the Klamath-Siskiyou Ecoregion is home to 36 species of conifer across Southern Oregon and Northern California.

Ah, for the love of conifers! This is my sort of place.

Keying in on Family Ties

Head out of the trees, Amanda soon directed my attention downward. Colorful puffs of yellow and bright white grew from long stems along the trail.

“Buckwheat,” Amanda confirmed.

But how can you tell? It isn’t easy. For the buckwheat family, in particular, you may even need a microscope to get down to the species level.

“It can take hours to key out a plant,” Amanda explained. “One thing that happens in this ACEC (area of critical environmental concern) is there is a lot of hybridization.” In other words, a lot of mixing of genes between species that can make keying out a species even more difficult.

However, with the right tools, including a good identification book or app, it can be done. Amanda recommended the “Oregon Wildflowers” App put out by Oregon Flora, as well as several regional books, including A Flora of California by Munz and The Jepson Desert Manual by Baldwin, et al. 

Amanda pulled out a species list to help narrow things down, and after some careful study and using the wildflower app, was able to identify the yellow buckwheat as ternate buckwheat (Eriogonum ternatum) and the white as sulfur buckwheat (Eriogonum umbellatum).

Okay, so getting down to species may at times become challenging, especially in biodiverse areas. There is at least eight known buckwheat in Rough and Ready, for example. But there is something to be said for identifying to family-level as well. 

Family groups often share some common characteristics. This is true of the buckwheat family as well.

“A lot of the times buckwheat have a basal rosette and then bare stems that come up with these puffs of flowers that turn color over time,” Amanda described. “The leaves are also often spoon-shaped,” she added.

“Spoon leaves,” I let it roll off the tongue. What a way to keep things straight!

“There is all the formal terminology,” continued Amanda, “but I think it is helpful” to use your own terms as well to help distinguish and remember individual plants.

Other families share other characteristics. A few of the families found at Rough and Ready Amanda described include: The Allium Family with their clusters of flowers and pungent linear leaves. The Asparagus family with lance-shaped leaves and parallel venation and often bell-shaped flowers. And the Lily family with 6 petals with three to 6 stamen and leaves often arising from low to the ground.

Spring Flowers

Amanda and I continued to note the various wildflower species along the trail as we hiked—lavender, spiky-looking ookow (Dichelostemma congestum) and purple with sharp, curved petals, Harvest Brodiaea (Brodiaea elegans). We also discovered a small rock fern called Indian’s dream (Aspidotis densa)—what a name!

Eventually, we reached a junction and headed left, following the powerlines on an old roadbed toward the river.

Speaking of colorful wildflowers, I asked Amanda when should people visit Rough and Ready for the best wildflower show.

Though there was plenty to see in these early summer months, Amanda recommended returning in spring.

“Spring is nice because you get the first wildflower blush,” she said. “Early spring wildflowers have a high percentage of endemic species.”

Many of the Irises and Calochortus (including mariposas) show up in spring—both of which have endemic species.

However, according to Amanda, any time is a good time to visit.

“What is cool about this site is it changes throughout the year and as you head up in elevation.”

Shrubs

However, there are some species that can be seen year-round. In addition to the conifer species, hardwood trees and shrubs are also year-round residents of Rough and Ready.  And we saw a lot of them on the trail! So many that, of course, I asked Amanda about it.

She patiently humorous me as we walked along noting species, like deer brush (Ceanothus integerrimus), birchleaf mountain mahogany (Cercocarpus betuloides), and spicy-smelling California Yerba Santa (Eriodictyon californicum).

“It is known as ‘holy weed’ or ‘holy herb’ and is the borage family,” shared Amanda regarding the California Yerba Santa.

We walked past an unusual-looking oak. 

Whipping out the plant list, Amanda stated: “We have seven oaks here in Rough and Ready.”

She then pulled open her Oregon Wildflower App to see if she could narrow things down.

“I think it is Brewer’s oak,” said Amanda after some deliberation. “The Brewer’s Oak is a hybrid of the Oregon White Oak.”

It looked Oregon White Oaky to me.

Amanda admitted she rarely spends much time on shrubs, as we ran across a myriad of manzanita.

“There are three types of Manzanitas here,” said Amanda.

Again, she worked to narrow down the ones surrounding us. “I think it is hoary manzanita,” she proclaimed, noting the wooly twigs and branches.

 We didn’t attempt to identify any of the others. Apparently, manzanita are known to hybridize, making identification even more complicated. Those darn shrubs!

Waters Edge

We continued down the “powerline trail,” passing a cluster of California poppies (Eschscholzia californica). Soon, we reached the rocky shores of Rough and Ready Creek.

Here we decided it was best to loop back. So, we carefully, balanced along the rocky creek edge, passing by a camas lily as we went.

Following the water’s edge, our garden of flowers was even more sparse. We focused on the rocks under our feet as we hopped along.

“So, these are all very serpentine rocks,” remarked Amanda as she picked up a rock to show me. “See the green color. There is asbestos in these rocks.”

There were also a lot of reddish rocks—another serpentine rock, only derived from peridotite, instead of serpentinite which yield the more dazzling green colors. 

All these rocks weather to a reddish-colored soil characteristic of serpentine geology.

Adaptations

We carefully clambered over the colorful rocks, careful to avoid the delicate desert soil. It was hot with the sun and only a few clouds dancing overhead.

Which brings us right back to the question: how do species adapt to this harsh environment? How do they deal with, as Amanda called them “asbestos rocks,” among the many other challenges?

Amanda and I discussed the problem throughout our hike—touching on the various challenges of the region.

As discussed earlier, serpentine rocks are characteristically high in certain minerals, like heavy metals. To overcome this, many species of plants might exclude heavy metals, reduce their transfer through the plant, or concentrate it in certain tissues at unusually high levels. 

When it comes to living in a relatively dry, sunny environment—where evapotranspiration is high—plants take different approaches to reduce water loss and protect from the sun.

“Many of them have leathery leaves or coatings…” said Amanda, and/or “different types of furry leaves and stems.”

Leathery or coated leaves help reduce water loss by reducing evaporation, as well as provide insulation from the sun and cold. While the hairs of furry leaves are helpful for reflecting sunlight and reducing airflow and drying. 

Wildfire

Wildfire is another challenge for species in the Klamath-Siskiyou ecoregion.

“There are three kinds of species—species that tolerate wildfire, those that don’t, and those that require it,” said Amanda. “Here, many require it.”

Those that require fire might need it for a variety of reasons. Some conifer species have serotinous cones—cones that require fire to open and release seeds. Many herbs and forbs have seeds with hard seed coats that need fire, or some other harsh environment, to break that coat to germinate.

“A lot of plants are adapted to fire because it makes nutrients available,” Amanda continued. “After a burn, big blooms of vegetative growth often occur.”

Other species, like oaks, will resist fire. Oaks have thick bark that protects them from lower-intensity fires. While, manzanita, on the other hand, burns fast and hot, but can regenerate easily—resprouting from burls at the base of the shrubs.

However, Amanda warned that changes in the fire interval—the amount of time between fires—could have negative effects on some species and their ability to tolerate fire.

“Burn too frequently, nothing reestablishes,” she said, “not enough, and there is too much competition.”

Non-native species also often arrive following a fire which can complicate things further. Non-native grasses, for example, often come in following fire. The problem is that these grasses create an ecosystem prone to more fire. More fire means more grasses, and on and on.

To sum up, native species are adapted, not only to fire, but to a specific fire regime and a very specific plant community. Changes in either of these can lead to native ecosystem loss. 

Why Plants Matter

As we continued to traverse the cobbles, having seen some of the diversity of species to discover at Rough and Ready, I asked Amanda why we should care about all these plants anyway? Do plants really matter?

This was her response:

“Plants are foundational components in high-functioning systems that support other species and the human population. They are the fundamental backbone. All our materials come from plants, they are the source of food, clothes, drugs, material, and they are also an indicator of ecosystem health.”

She went on:

“Diversity is stability. It is easy to overlook plants because they don’t make any noise. But, they are all around us and necessary for the survival of all species. I like them because they are quiet underdogs. But really, they are important and we need to preserve the diversity of different species.”

Amanda continued to explain how, despite their immense value to the ecosystem and our human societies, plant populations are being threatened by climate change, habitat loss, and many other stressors.

“We need people to speak for them,” proclaimed Amanda. “It is important to have people that care and are willing to support the plants and their communities because we all depend on them for survival.”

You could really hear the passion and concern behind Amanda’s words.

“Cheese-fest?” she smiled, then shrugged. “It’s just how I feel.”

I smiled and kept on rock hopping. Did I just hear a mic hit the floor? 

Keep a Close Watch

Looking out for the botanical resources on BLM is a big part of Amanda’s job, but this has proven difficult as threats are often mounting.

Amanda expressed concern for the plants at the Rough and Ready.

“The other thing about plants is because they are slower at migrating, it is easier for them to just be gone.”

She used several examples of how species tend to be closely connected to their environments. Again, she reminded me how serpentine species need serpentine soils to survive. Then there are saprophytic plants, like snow plants and ground cones, that need specific trees with a specific microbiome to be happy.

“Everyone loves the calypso orchids,” she expounded, “but you can’t pick them up and move them…they are connected with the mycorrhiza of the soil.”

Then, there are threats from “their own kind”—invasive species take up a lot of Amanda’s time.

“They are a major threat to the integrity of the ecosystem and it takes a lot of time and energy to make progress on it,” she explained regarding her efforts.

“What else?” I asked. “What are the biggest threats to the plants here?”

Amanda spoke of the challenges that her district specifically faces, including illegal marijuana grows, offroad recreation, and illegal dumping.

“French flat is one of our highest intact pieces of habitat for Lomatium cookii, a federally listed species,” said Amanda. “And we are constantly having trouble with off-road vehicles.  There are a lot of burned-out cars there, ”she sighed.

As if on cue, we crossed by some trash on the trail. 

“I lose faith in humans sometimes,” she remarked as she bent down to pick it up.

Enjoy Plants

At this point, we decided to begin veering back to the normal trail, but before we made it over the rocky rise, I asked Amanda for advice—how can people enjoy plants?

She had a lot of ideas, but her main message was simple—leave a place better than you found it. Care about plants and share how your care with others.

She also suggested making small goals to help plants.

“Think of your own yard. Do you have some native flowering plants?  That is your base. There is a food chain that connects all the way up from there.”

And, of course, spending time with plants, was her last piece of advice.

“Visit a local park or somewhere nearby and instead of just walking, stop in a spot and look around. Count how many different plants you think you see.”

Amanda recommended reaching out to organizations, like a local native plant society, to learn more about the plants. 

“Peak curiosity… “ After all, once you have truly seen a plant “you can’t unsee it!”

Species List

Amanda and I carefully made our way up the hill and back to the main path. As we walked, I asked Amanda if she could give me a short list of species for the area that she “can’t unsee.” What species could someone visiting the Klamath-Siskiyou learn to appreciate first?

This proved to be the most difficult question of the day—she came up with a few, but later sent me her complete list.

First, the trees. Pacific Madrone (Arbutus menziesii), Brewer’s Spruce(Picea breweriana), Port Orford Cedar(Chamaecyparis lawsoniana), and Pacific Yew (Taxus brevifolia) were Amanda’s picks. 

“They are easily recognizable, native, and all have some personality or rich history,” said Amanda.

Pacific Madrone, for example, has a hard, dense wood with “eucalyptus-like bark,” both smooth and peeling.

Later she added knobcone pine (Pinus tuberculata) to the list—as it is one that is especially dense at the Oregon/California border.

Next, shrubs. Oregon Grape (Mahonia aquifolium) was her first pick.

“It is an indicator of a native ecosystem,” said Amanda of the Oregon Grape. “It’s fruits edible, roots medicinal, and pollinators love it!”

Later she added: Huckleberry Oak (Quercus vacciniifolia), Deer Oak (Quercus sadleriana), and Hupa Gooseberry (Ribes marshallii).

Finally, the flowers!

Originally, Amanda suggested beargrass (Xerophylllum tenax) and Cobra Lily (Darlingtonia californica) to add to the list. Both are unique enough to identify easily and have unique life histories and/or cultural significance.

“Beargrass has a unique flower stalk,” said Amanda. “It is culturally significant to a number of native tribes and is an indicator of the Pacific Northwest Coast Region.”

Later she added: Clustered Lady Slipper (Cypripedium californicum), Gentner’s Fritillary (Fritillaria gentneri), Howell’s Camas (Camassia howellii), Siskiyou Iris (Iris bracteata), and Splithair Indian Paintbrush (Castilleja schizotricha)

Botanical Discoveries

It was still morning when we made it back to the trailhead, so we decided we would check out the Eight Dollar Mountain site just a short drive away before taking parting ways.

At Eight Dollar Mountain, we found a lot of other interesting species, including an amazing view of a Darlingtonia fen in bloom, and many endemics. 

However, my favorite moment on this pit stop was when we first arrived and headed up the road to the boardwalk. Amanda suddenly made a beeline off the side of the road. I followed.

A scattered patch of beautiful large white blooms with hairy petals and pink stamen ringed in a reddish brown grew there from their tall thin green stems. Neither of us had seen these flowers before. The excitement was palpable.

Giddy with our new find, Amanda dove into her reference materials and shortly was able to identify it as Howell’s Mariposa Lily (Calochortus howelii)—a local endemic. We would soon find out it was very common to the site—a lot of it grew along the boardwalk trail—but at that moment, it was new, fresh, and exciting.

And there it was—botany in action, the joy of discovery.

I discovered a lot on my hike with Amanda.

Though, I started out the day loving botany (Yes, I am a plant nerd). Experiencing Amanda’s passion and persistence was both heartening and renewing—like seeing a new plant for the first time. Seriously, it doesn’t get better than that!

Amanda Snodgrass is a Field Office Botanist for the Bureau of Land Management, Medford District. She earned a Master of Science from Iowa State University in Horticulture in 2012. She has worked for U.S. Forest Service and National Park Service as a Botanist and Horticulturalist.

One thing that I love about hiking is its simplicity. You don’t have to invest in a bunch of gear to become a hiker—although some people do. All you need are a good pair of shoes and a pack filled with necessities, and you are off to the races.

At the same time, the sport of hiking is ripe for product innovation. Hikers are ready for products that improve performance, safety, and overall function. I mean, honestly, a good pair of shoes can be difficult to come by.

Which begs the question, how do hiking products come to market? What is the design process for a hiking shoe or pack?

On a cool spring day, I met with Susan Sokolowski, director of the Sports Product Design Program at the University of Oregon, and Henry Gilbert, one of her students enrolled in the program, for a hike on the Wildwood trail to find out.

The Hike

• Trailhead: Newberry Road Trailhead (45.605640, -122.823430)
• Distance: 5.1 miles out and back with longer options
• Elevation Gain: approximately 531 feet
• Details: Limited parking at the trailhead which is a pullout on the side of the road. No restrooms are available. Roads to the trailhead are paved making access easy. This is the northern terminus of the 31.1-mile Wildwood trail.

It was raining hard right just a few minutes before I pulled up to the trailhead. The trees still glistened with fresh drops clinging to the tips of the branches. I found Susan and Henry just down the road a bit from where I parked, and we got started. A trail running event looked to be coming to an end as we arrived, and a table of volunteers welcomed us to the forest.

We took off at a moderate pace down the trail.  The green conifer forests promising some level of protection if the sky decided to open again.

What it takes

We started with introductions.

Henry introduced himself as a student, originally from Salt Lake City, in his first year in the Sports Product Design program at UO. His background is in electrical engineering.

“I heard about this program, and I was super excited about it,” said Henry, “I have a passion for hiking.”

Susan introduced herself as the professor and director of the sports product design program. Her background is in design, as well as human factors engineering and kinesiology. She earned her master’s degree at Cornell University under Susan Watkins, the mother of functional design, and from there entered the sports design space at the University of Minnesota, co-majoring in biomechanics and design.

“When I went to school, I was definitely an oddball student,” Susan laughed.

The Design Process

We continued along the well-worn path under the canopy of Douglas-fir and western redcedar. Sword fern dominated the understory along with a myriad of herbaceous forest plants, including vanilla leaf and yellow stream violet. 

As we hiked, I asked Susan for an overview of what she does as a sports product designer.

She began her explanation with a mission statement:

“Our mission is to push the field with game-changing solutions for athletes that push performance and society.” She continued, “we are looking at performance, but also in the sports industry, especially sports products, there is a large movement to look into equity in sport—and that is part of it as well.”

This is what sports product design—at least how she does it—aims for. But how does it get there?

“We use a design process that it similar to the scientific process,” entertained Susan.

As Susan explained, the process starts with a line of inquiry based on “how could we” or “how might we” statements—something akin to a hypothesis of sorts. From there ideation begins and the process of prototyping.

“Our program really values creating concepts and physical prototypes,” Susan expounded.

Once the prototypes are built, they are tested. This usually involves athletes or users trying the product and giving feedback.

Of course, just like in science, testing doesn’t always lead directly to the production and marketing of a product. Often the results of testing may require a step back or two. The design process is not linear. 

Product Testing

We soon crossed over a small wooden footbridge as we made our way further into the forest.

I asked Susan to elaborate more on the product testing side of things.

“There are infinite ways to test products,” Susan replied. “We could be testing for ease of use, regulation, impact protection, a feeling, accuracy… anything you can want an athlete to do, or have a better experience with, you can be testing for.”

On the practical side of things, the most common method used for testing is calling in a focus group. Asking people to experience the product and give feedback is the minimum expected for testing.

Then there are more complex methods using equipment, like thermistors or environmental chambers, for example.

Things get even more complicated if you are making a claim or in the business of making products that are more dangerous, like helmets. It is in these instances that, according to Susan, “testing becomes very important.”

“Companies have been shut down,” said Susan, “when testing wasn’t up to snuff.”

So, depending on the product, testing could take a long time, even years.

Hiking Shoes

At this point, we were beginning to encounter a good deal of mud on the trail. I could feel the traction of my hiking shoes failing as the slick clayey mud started to gum things up.

“What about hiking shoes?” I asked, “Let’s say you want to design hiking shoes.”

Susan was quick to admit that hiking shoes are not only a challenge for people to shop for but also a challenge to design. On top of that, there hasn’t been the level of effort put into hiking shoes as there has been for other products, like running shoes.

“Hiking is complicated,” said Susan, “because, like we are hiking on mud today which is different than hiking on something like snow or ice…”

In general, certain features should be considered to deal with the all-terrain use of hiking shoes, including traction performance, flexibility, water migration, waterproofness, and stability.

Methods for testing will often vary by company. Though there is some standard testing. A wear test—where a group of people wears and compares the product to a baseline is another possible method.  Wear tests can be as short as trying a product for an hour of exercise, for as long as a few weeks or even a month. Longer than that and designers can’t meet product timelines that very much rely on a season product launch cycle.

According to Susan, the sizing and fit of hiking shoes are also important to test.

Even though shoes are often built to a particular size model, the materials and how they respond to wear vary a lot.  Thicker material might make the size envelope a bit smaller.  Stretchy material may make it larger.

Duct Tape

We walked further down the trail.

Henry chimed in regarding his experience with product testing shoes. “It was interesting to see what they (the designers) were looking for,” he said.

One such “look for” were hot points and blisters—a common ailment among hikers, especially in certain conditions.

Susan told me about a time she did a hiking race on hot asphalt.  “My feet were burning!” She exclaimed. “I had to wrap them in duct tape.”

I told the group about a backpacking trip on sand that had a similar effect.

The good news?

“I learned duct tape is amazing,” said Susan.

I mean duct tape does fix everything. And in the design world what better tool can you turn to in a time of crisis?

“We aren’t afraid of duct tape,” Susan agreed.

Testing Woes

The weather continued to hold up as we walked along. Thought the mud only seemed to pick up. I told Susan and Henry we could go as far as they wanted.

“We won’t go 30 miles,” was Susan’s comical reply. These two were just plain fun to hike with.

Henry is not the only design student to be recruited for product testing.

“Companies know that they (her students) understand product,” confided Susan. “It is hard to get good product feedback,” she went on. 

If one thing is “wrong” with the product, often time feedback will come back negative, and the positive qualities of a product will be lost. Susan told me how countless times she has had testers come back with comments about the color of a product.

“I didn’t like the purple ones,” Susan mimicked a difficult tester. “It can be really polarizing.”

If even there is a more substantial complaint, like an uncomfortable high top on a boot, often all other feedback is lost on this one major complaint.

Research

Of course, before product testing, comes a different type of feedback—research.

“If the research isn’t there, then the design is completely invalid,” Henry confessed.

Research usually comes in the form of interviews with potential users and looking at existing products on the market. Science also supports and informs product design.

Henry shared a project he worked on designing a base layer for visually impaired skiers using haptic technology to communicate with their guides. He interviewed several visually impaired skiers to determine where best to place the haptics.

Research is imperfect though.

“Sometimes you will design something fully based on science,” said Susan, “but then someone will put it on, and it can nullify the invention.”

Synergy

Soon we reached a large, upended tree—its roots sticking out at us onto the trail and a sticky, thick mud bath below. As we carefully picked our way around it, or in some cases slid our way, I asked Susan to tell me more about how science informs product design.

She laughed because in a lot of ways it doesn’t.

“There is a lot of research that happens in the lab that never gets applied,” said Susan. “In the pure sciences, you get a finding and move on.”

Pure sciences are often funded that way. Scientists are supported for the initial body of work—to answer a specific question. Once that knowledge is obtained the funding dries up.

However, at least at the University of Oregon, Susan is seeing a change—a shift to more collaboration between pure and applied science that seems to really be paying off.

Susan is part of the Wu Tsai Alliance—a group comprised of scientists from a variety of backgrounds with the common goal of understanding human performance.

“The group formed last year, but we are already seeing the synergies,” said Susan. “For example, a biomedical engineer designed and sensor, and one of my students is taking the sensor and putting it into footwear for their thesis project,” she elaborated.

Fighting for Women

Like the obstacles to collaboration, the Wildwood trail continued to throw log hops in our way. As we clambered over another one, I asked Susan to share a bit about the projects she is involved in.

“I have my fingers in a lot of different things,” was her unsurprising response. She didn’t seem the type to take life sitting down.

“I am finishing some research on size and fit issues for women firefighters,” Susan shared one of her projects.

“Gear for women isn’t really designed for women,” she explained. As a result, women firefighters are getting hurt. A fact that has been known for over a decade but hasn’t been acted on until now.

Susan hopes to change all that by identifying important knowledge gaps.

As a next step, she is also working with another scientist that does machine learning to analyze 3-dimensional body scans of athletes.  The goal is to understand geometries beyond the basic chest-waist-hip measurements and interpret findings into better product performance.

Runners High

Susan is also using machine learning and body scans to better understand women’s running. She plans to survey thousands of runners and pair that data with scans to look for unknown patterns that relate to running performance. She hopes to tease out what is talked about in the common press when it comes to performance—to identify what works and what is just hype.

Innovate

At this point, Susan, Henry, and I reached a trail sign near a fire lane. Having gone a few miles, we decided to turn around. Thankfully the rain continued to hold off as we retraced our steps back.

Then I asked Henry, what he wanted to do with his career. His answer boiled down to one word—innovate.

“In our field, there is true athletic product innovation,” said Susan.

However, the focus of that innovation has shifted over the years, leaving many sports neglected. According to Susan, outdoor sports, like skiing and climbing, are ripe for innovation.

Hiking is another one.

“Running shoes are designed for environmental and biomechanical needs,” Susan explained. “Hiking shoes haven’t really gotten there yet….that is why people go to trail running shoes.”

Environmental Wear

Another area ripe for innovation is waterproofing.

Though there are some products that work better than others, waterproofing than be challenging. For one, it doesn’t last. And secondly, the chemistry is bad for the environment.

“It is part of the Teflon family of chemicals,” said Susan.

So, companies turn to more environmentally friendly alternatives, but at a cost—a loss in product quality.

Walking through a beautiful green Douglas-fir Forest, it is hard not to want to protect it. So, I asked Susan, how we are doing in the sports industry with making environmentally safe products?

“We are not doing well,” was her blunt response. As the sports product industry shifted from cotton and wool materials to synthetics in the 1960s and 1970s, sustainability went out the window.

“It is concerning when you learn more about it,” said Henry.

However, there is some hope for the future. According to Susan, natural fiber companies are working on innovating to create more biobased products.

In addition, there has been an uptick in transparency regarding the sustainability of products. For example, Marmot now ranks products for their sustainability versus performance.

“Companies are going to be held accountable, “Susan commented. She mentioned a panel she was on in Europe where there was a discussion on taxing people for purchasing unsustainable products. “I think we may see things like that in the future,” she continued.

Recycle, Reduce, Reuse

A few other ways companies are combating the issues of sustainability and durability are through the reuse and recycling of products. Companies like Patagonia will buy back products and repair them for resale. Other companies will recycle products to make something new.

Repair is another major movement. Susan mentioned Fjallraven in Portland’s Pearl District providing repair and waxing stations for waterproofing.

Keep it Simple

We continued working our way back to our cars, climbing the logs and sliding over the same mud slicks we encountered on our way in.  As we were nearing the trailhead, I asked Susan and Henry for some consumer tips for buying products.

“For me, it is not to overdo it,” said Susan. She recommended choosing clothing that is comfortable, fits well, and allows for mobility. It isn’t necessary to have high-tech gear on a day hike. Even jeans may be acceptable in most conditions.

“There is a lot of discussion around equity in sport,” Susan said, “especially hiking.” According to Susan, people see it as a “white sport” and only for the “affluent,” but hiking is for everyone.

By keeping things simple, she hopes more people will see themselves on the trail. 

Wear and Tear

Another tip Susan emphasized was wear.

“If you haven’t fully worn in something, you can have a really bad experience,” said Susan.

“Your body changes when you are hiking,” she continued. “Feet and hands can swell, for example.”

Taking the time to try out gear in a low stakes environment and wear it in is key to an enjoyable outdoor experience.

Luckily, some companies are creating return policies that allow consumers to really try out products before they fully commit to purchasing.

Functional Innovation

Innovative products that improve functionality is something else to look out for and consider when purchasing items.

Susan mentioned innovation in hydration as another example. Camelback and other bladder systems allow for a hands-free experience, while filters allow for longer and safer outdoor experiences. Both innovations have revolutionized outdoor sports.

Even something as simple as having the right size or style of pockets can make or break a product.

Keep Improving

As we neared the trailhead, I asked Susan one more question—Why does sports design matter?

According to Susan, sports product design is about maximizing human potential. It is also about the benefits of engaging in sport –  like health and happiness, available to everyone.

“There are an infinite number of problems to solve,” said Susan, referring to the sports product industry.

Fortunately, the process of product design is iterative. And with new tools for design, products are improving.

Body scanning and machine learning are changing how products can be made. It may be that mass production changes in the future and more personalized sizing will become available to everyone.

“The tech is already there,” Susan remarked. “I know scientists that can look at your Facebook picture and tell what your body scan looks like.”

Hike Happy

In the meantime, consumers and hikers have a lot of options to choose from when it comes to sports product design. There are still some problems to solve. But, by keeping it simple and choosing products that function and wear well, you can still enjoy the benefits.

So, take a hike through the woods. Climb a mountain if you will. Paddle or float. Whatever sport you engage in, keep it simple and wear what works for you.

Perhaps Henry’s advice is most apt and to the point: “You got to wear what makes you happy.”

Susan Sokolowski, Ph.D., is the director of the Sports Product Design Program and the University of Oregon. She has over 25 years of experience in the sports product industry.

Open prairie grasslands, hummocky wet meadows, meandering rivers, and magnificent branching oak woodlands—before European settlement, Oregon’s Willamette Valley was a very different place. A place blackened by fire and awash in waves of wildflowers. A sea of purple camas covered the hillsides, along with irises, cat’s ear lily, golden paintbrush, and more. Grand Oregon white oaks, with their spreading branches, grew singly or in woodland patches, completing the look.

Now, very little of these habitats remain in the Willamette Valley—lost to human development. It is a place dug up by plows and awash in pavement. A sea of houses covers the hillsides with agricultural fields everywhere in-between.

In recent years, as scarcity has increased, oak habitats in Oregon have been given more attention. Even sites on the edge of the valley are being considered for restoration by conservation groups and land management agencies.

McCully Mountain, just east of Salem, is one such site. A parcel of BLM land with a bit of oak on a wet meadow surrounded by private lands, and in need of a little elbow grease. 

So, with the help of volunteers and other staff, Corbin Murphy, BLM wildlife biologist, has been working for the last few years to restore the parcel. Or as he put it, “create some habitat on the landscape.”

I met with Corbin on a wet spring day to take a look at the progress. 

The Hike

• Trailhead: No official trailhead.
• Distance: varies
• Details: Park at the pullout on East McCully Mountain Road. No trailhead or signage. There are no amenities at this site.

Classic BLM

Corbin and I carpooled out to the McCully site along some backcountry roads, before reaching a small pullout. A faint trail led us through a Douglas-fir Forest a short distance.

“This is kind of classic BLM,” said Corbin. In other words, a parcel of public land, abutted by private lands.

You see, in the late 1800s, as part of a settlement plan for the west, the federal government granted every other square mile swatch of land to the Oregon and California Railroad Company to fund the building of public transportation through the state, the other half was to be sold and distributed to settlers.

Unfortunately, fraudulent sales led to the reinvestment of the O&C lands where they were put under the jurisdiction of the U.S. Department of the Interior, General land Office (GLO). Today these lands are now managed by the Bureau of Land Management (BLM).

The problem is this “checkerboard pattern” of land ownership is a “nightmare for management.” Though there has been some consolidation of ownership, public and private lands still share extensive boundaries.

“Access and road problems are reoccurring,” Corbin explained. And McCully is no exception. “Folks can walk down the spur road to get to the BLM, it is public access,” despite warnings from signs posted on the gate.

ACEC

Eventually, the conifer forest peters out along a grassy ridge with views onto the surrounding hillside.

“This is the property line right here,” said Corbin.

Oregon white oak grow in huddled bunches along the ridge—mostly smaller trees trying to get a foothold. A soggy meadow lays quietly below.

“For the BLM this is one of our Areas of Critical Environmental Concern—an ACEC,” said Corbin. As such, McCully receives special management attention to protect its natural resources.

ACECs are established for a variety of reasons. Some are established for geology; others for their cultural or scenic value; and others for habitat, for example.

McCully was designated an ACEC for its scenic value, natural systems, and wildlife value.

“Special habs,” as Corbin put it—McCully is “not just some conifer forest… it is 80 acres of oak meadow.”

Inverts

As we continued down the ridge, Corbin and I were cognizant of the wildlife all around us.

A Northern pigmy owl called out in the distance. Deer and elk scat lay in darkened clumps on the bed of green grasses and herbaceous plants at our feet. I nearly trip over a mountain beaver burrow entry hidden on the ground.

However, it was the smaller, less conspicuous critters that Corbin is really jazzed about.

“There has been a lot of work on megafauna, and especially rare species,” Corbin explained, “but there are a lot of critters that are new to science and not studied. A lot of these are inverts.”

Invertebrates—animals without a backbone, like insects, spiders, and worms—play many important ecological roles. Many are pollinators; others are decomposers, for example. And all are key parts of food webs—supporting vertebrate species, like birds.

Thus, studying invertebrates can tell us a lot about the functioning of an ecosystem.

Moths

One group of invertebrates that hasn’t recieved a lot of attention are the moths. Which is why Corbin was thrilled to have McCully Peak included in a moth study organized by researchers at Oregon State’s Arthropod Collection.

The study was intensive with survey data collected every two weeks from light traps set up at four different points acrooss the meadow.

“Guess how many species we found?” asked Corbin, a twinkle in his eye.

“I don’t know, twenty,” I guessed reluctantly.

“Two hundred!” Corbin exclaimed. “And a bunch were for the first time documented in this county in Oregon,” he went on gleefully.

Of course, these results were collected before restoration work got underway.

“We will come back and do some post-treatment monitoring,” Corbin assured me.

Competition

Corbin and I continued to circle the forested meadow’s edge. Douglas-fir logs lay abandoned near their stumps along the ridge. Other conifers have been girdled—a strip of bark removed in a ring around their trunks.

“The down wood and snags are important for wildlife,” Corbin explains. Offering habitat for many species, including many of Corbin’s beloved invertebrates.

Perhaps even more importantly, Oregon white oaks are slow-growing species and can easily be shaded out by fast-growing conifers. So, a big part of oak restoration involves getting rid of the competition—in this case, Douglas-fir. But rather than simply harvesting the Douglas-fir trees and hauling them off, the trees are left in place to decay.

Corbin was also quick to note that, though the Douglas-fir have a foothold now, the shallow soils in the meadows make it difficult for the trees to succeed long term.

“Many are dying,” Corbin points out, but while they live, they make it more difficult for the oak.

Invasive Species

In addition to competing with conifers, oak habitats face encroachment from alien invaders—a.k.a. invasive species.

“This was all ringed with scotch broom,” Corbin shared as we cut along the meadow’s edge, dodging poison oak as we went. Shiny geranium, another invasive species, grew in large uniform patches at our feet.

“We pulled and cut all the scotch broom about 2 years ago,” said Corbin.

As Corbin and I headed down the hillside, we spotted a few new scotch broom sprouts. When it comes to invasive species, the work never really ends.

“It is going to be a constant battle,” resigned Corbin.

Volunteers

A lot of the restoration work, including removing invasive species, was done by volunteers using clippers and machetes.  At McCully, several volunteer groups came out to help with the restoration work, including Northwest Youth Corps and Linn County Juvenile corrections, as well as a group from Backcountry Hunters and Anglers.

Volunteers also helped with basketing oaks—encircling young oak with netting to protect against browse.

“Deer are funny,” Corbin chuckled, “they love oak.”  At one point, Corbin pointed out an oak that had been heavily browsed—nary a leaf could be seen.

Thanks to volunteers, more of the oaks can escape these pressures and have a chance to make it to maturity.

“I do love the opportunity to get the volunteers out,”  said Corbin. “Something like this is really fun too,” he went on.

Corbin reminisced about the time the Backcountry Hunters and Anglers visited. Elk ran through the meadow and they saw a ton of wild turkey.

“We are coming back!” they told Corbin after a long day of volunteering.

“Good! This is your public lands, enjoy it!” was Corbin’s reply.

Suspected Species

The sky is gray, threatening rain. Corbin and I continued past more young oak and patches of scotch broom toward the meadow below. 

Tracking down the hill, we followed a wide muddy path littered with deer and elk hoof impressions.

At the bottom of the hill is a wet meadow where yellow monkey flower grows in a wet seep. Fist-sized rocks lay scattered on the meadow that has been heavily grazed. The vegetation is clipped close to the ground in most areas. The scenery is beautiful, and wildlife clearly abundant.

Transfixed by the open, rocky expanse, I asked Corbin what sort of wildlife might use the space?

Well apart from the usual deer, elk, and other generalist species, Corbin mentioned several “suspected” species that he is hoping to find in the space. Streaked Horned Lark and Fender’s Blue butterflies, for instance—are two species associated with oak prairie in the Willamette Valley.

“We say ‘suspected,’” said Corbin, “If it is within the range and habitat requirements are all there.”

Desert Life

Another suspected species Corbin is excited about finding is the pallid bat.

“The pallid bat is a desert species that used to exist in the Willamette Valley,” explained Corbin. Other desert species, like ponderosa pine, jackrabbits, Northern Pacific rattlesnake, and burrowing owls were also once present in the Valley. But, like the pallid ba, these have all but been eliminated.

According to Corbin, the pallid bat is unique from other bats in that they don’t typically use echolocation but forage for ground-dwelling insects, like scorpions by sound. This can make them trickier to identify in the wild using passive acoustic recording units since they are not making ultrasonic calls to locate food.

“This is part of its historic range,” Corbin noted, so they could be here, or move here, even if they haven’t been identified yet.

Woodpeckers

The rhythmic thumping of a Northern Flicker sounded against the high-pitched songs of other bird species as we continued toward the forested edge of the meadow.

“What about woodpeckers?” I asked.

“It should be a feeding frenzy,” said Corbin, looking out on all the girdled conifers. “There are a lot of downy and hair woodpeckers, flickers, and pileated woodpeckers.”

Woodpeckers forage in dead and decaying trees, making the wooded edges of the meadow with newly developing snags, a great place to feast.

Lewis’s Woodpecker is another suspected species for the area, though none have been spotted yet. They were once widespread however due to habitat loss of mostly snags in oak, pine, and cottonwood woodlands their numbers are low. However, for all these species, Corbin is hopeful.

“If we create the habitat, they will come,” he tells me.

Making Habitat

Dark clouds continued to gather, as Corbin and I walked adjacent to the forest, looking up at more girdled conifers. Corbin admitted that girdling is not the ideal way to create snags but it is quicker and cheaper than topping them.

“It is expensive to top them,” he said, but “it creates an opportunity for spores to land on top and heart rot to enter.”

Ultimately, cavities form, making the tree not only an excellent foraging site for woodpeckers but useful for nesting as well.

Legacy Tree

Soon a large snag came into view. This was no restoration project tree—it’s open-top reached toward the sky.

“That is what we call a legacy tree,” said Corbin. “It was probably part of a previous cohort,” he speculated. “A stand-replacing fire came through and that was the only one that lived.”

Snags are excellent habitat for many species. Legacy trees are even more exceptional. Their large girth can support species that depend on a larger diameter tree.

“Those are great for bats,” Corbin exclaimed. “We have another bat that is out here,” he went on, “the fringed myotis.” Named for the fringes of hairs that can be found between their back legs.

“It loves snags,” said Corbin. “It roosts in the sloughing bark,” he continued.

However, in this case, size does matter. They need a larger diameter snag—”61 inches on average,” according to Corbin for roosting. “It is one of the limiting factors for fringed myotis.”

Large Down Wood

The life or death, as it were, of a legacy tree does not end there. When snags eventually fall to the ground, they continue to support species dependent on larger trees for survival. For example, Oregon slender salamander, an endemic to the Cascades, has only been found in large down wood.

Corbin expressed concern about these species. “Maybe around the turn of the century there were really big trees,” but… “fast forward and much of our forests are on a 30-to-40-year rotation.”

Large trees begat large snags begat large down wood. If we don’t have enough large trees, where does that leave us?

So, perhaps it is not surprising that Corbin called legacy trees “gems on the landscape.” They are both valuable and rare.

Intersection

We continued to follow the forest down to the property line, where BLM land abuts private. As we reached the fence, we could see another clear cut could be seen through the trees.

“Well, I guess there is more meadow now,” Corbin smirked.

A turkey sounded in the distance. Surprisingly, Corbin called back. The turkey gave no response. It remained silent, even after I gave a half-hearted gobble-gobble.

We passed a girdled tree that had fallen over. A few purple calypso orchids grew near its base. Then a bit later, Corbin spotted invasive mullein that gave him pause.

Eventually, we began to edge our way back through the meadow at the back end of the property. It was at this point, that it began to shower.

We had reached a point of intersection—between forest and meadow, public and private, and wet and dry—a confluence in more ways than one.

“Anytime you have the confluence of conifer forest, oak woodland, and prairie,” Corbin stated, “that is where you are getting cover, forage, and nesting opportunity.”

That is where you find wildlife.

Secret Garden

We soldiered on over the soft hummocks of grass and herbaceous plants. Rocky outcroppings and undulating hills gave the walk dimension. Prairie stars and rosy plectritis also made an appearance in these lower meadows.

 “There is a lot of BLM ground like that that people just never really get to,” Corbin remarked as we passed by a patch of popcorn flower. “A fun part of my job is getting to explore these areas.”

This certainly rang true for McCully. There was no one around but us… and the deer.

Boundaries

As the rain picked up, Corbin and I decided to turn and loop back up to our vehicles. Corbin led the way—following the path of least resistance and least poison oak.

I was really starting to feel an affinity for the place—wildflowers have a way of doing that to me. Inspired by the unique landscape, I wondered just how much land BLM has designated as areas of critical environmental concern (ACEC). So, I asked Corbin.

“It is hard to tell,” he responded, “different field offices have different amounts of ACEC.”

For the Cascades field office, running from the Columbia River Gorge to Sweet Home, where Corbin works, he estimated a figure—“there are roughly fifteen thousand acres out of one-hundred-seventy thousand acres, about 8 percent in the Cascades Field office and about 2 percent across Western Oregon BLM.”

In short—there is not a lot.

Each ACEC is specifically delineated to encompass just the small area of land that contains a unique feature, like a rock garden or bog. ACECs are by definition scarce. Anything that isn’t unique makes up BLM timber reserves, some of which are open to timber sales and sustainably harvested.  

Heading Home

We continued up the hill, passing by deer beds… “1, 2, 3, 4, 5…” Corbin counted as we walked by. We followed a creek bed that looked more like a slip and slide where you could see just how shallow the soil was above the exposed bedrock.

“Not even a couple of inches of soil on that,” Corbin exclaimed.

Eventually, we re-entered the familiar forest that we had walked through at the beginning of our hike—back into the ordinary.

Looking back through the trees at the oak meadow, it appeared almost magic against the grey sky—a secret tucked away in the west hills of the Cascades.

But McCully Peak isn’t a secret. It is one of many unique places scattered throughout our public lands—welcoming a visit.

Corbin Murphy is a Wildlife Biologist for the Salem District of Bureau of Land Management. He has been with the BLM for 13 years and currently works in the Cascades Field Office. He has also worked for the U.S. Forest Service.