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    • Mount Hood Lily (2004)

      As much as I try to acknowledge all comments on the WyEast Blog, I sometimes stumble across comments posted years after the original article that slip through the cracks. In the case of Gary Fields’ comment (in 2013 and shown below) on this article on the Mount Hood Lily (posted four years prior, in 2009) I didn’t notice the comment until this morning — 13 years late! So, in the interest of connecting the dots across the asynchronous digital continuum, I’ll thank Gary here for this comment:

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      September 5, 2013 at 7:13 AM

      The Mount Hood Lily does indeed grow in the state of Washington. They can be found near the upper portion of Snowden Road.

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      Gary’s comment responds to the original blog article describing confusion over the more commonly used name for the Mount Hood Lily – the Washington Lily – being named for Martha Washington, as opposed to the State of Washington. 

      Though the USDA and other botanical sources still describe Mount Hood as the northernmost extent of this exceptionally beautiful lily, I don’t doubt Gary’s account at all. In fact, the Oregon Flora Project includes several entries in the hills above Mosier, well north of Mount Hood and just across the river from Snowden Road in Washington. I’ve also seen Mount Hood Lily throughout the Hood River Valley foothills and along Waucoma Ridge, in the high country of the Columbia River Gorge. So, there’s a good chance they’ve jumped the river in a few spots. 

      These spectacular wildflowers are blooming right now, in fact. If only this vintage 2004 image (taken with my first digital SLR twenty-two years ago!) of a Mount Hood Lily had scratch-n-sniff metadata, you could also appreciate their intoxicating fragrance that rivals any greenhouse-cultivated Stargazer lily. They are impressive plants that that are hard to miss, and commonly grow along forest roads if you find yourself up on the mountain this week. Just don’t call them “Washington Lily”…

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      Image Description: A trio of white, trumpet-shaped Mount Hood Lily blossoms bloom in a cluster, each with six curved, white petals surrounding a cluster of bright yellow stamens and a single green pistil at center. Not shown in this photo is the aromatic, powerfully sweet scent that these stately wildflowers are known for.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Upper Butte Creek Falls (2017)

      Butte Creek is a bit of a hidden gem in WyEast Country, located on land managed by the Oregon Department of Forestry (ODF) and accessed via a maze of logging roads. Amid miles of clearcuts on both public and private lands in all directions, the ODF has set aside the steep canyon surrounding Butte Creek Falls and its smaller, upstream sibling – known unofficially as Upper Butte Creek Falls – for recreation. A short, but excellent trail leads to both waterfalls and makes for a fine family outing (albeit with some serious drop-offs at the main falls overlook). 

      It’s not coincidental that these waterfalls are near similar concentrations just to the south, along Abiqua Creek and famously, Silver Creek State Park. All three streams cascade in stairsteps over layers of Columbia River Basalt that flooded the region 16 million years ago, long before the Cascade Range we know today existed.

      In 2020, this section of the Butte Creek watershed somehow dodged the Riverside Fire that swept across a wide swath of the Clackamas and Molalla River basins. As a result, it remains as a lush, green reminder of the importance of slowing the pace of human-caused wildfires. 

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      Image Description: Butte Creek flows over a wide basalt shelf in white curtain, dropping into a deep splash pool. The waterfall is surrounded by tall maples, alders, cedars and firs in dozens of shades of green. In the foreground, bright green leaves of Salmonberry complete the scene.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Gumjuwac Overlook (2023)

      Sometimes a photo brings back a vivid personal memory completely disconnected from what you might see in an image. Such as the case with this early winter view from rocky viewpoint along the Gumjuwac Trail, on the west shoulder of Lookout Mountain and within the protected Badger Creek Wilderness.

      Much of the climb to this viewpoint is through deep, old-growth forests of Douglas fir, Western hemlock and scattered Western red cedar. About a mile from the trailhead in late November 2023, I came upon fresh bear tracks along the trail, the only tracks other than mine on the fresh snow.  They continued for some distance until I reached what had recently been a violent encounter at a wide switchback on the trail. There was no telling exactly what had unfolded, though two large animals had clearly faced off, leaving chaotic marks in the new snow. 

      The bear tracks ended here, but a clear path of broken brush and torn up snow led directly down the steep mountain slope from the trail in the wake of whatever chase had ensued. It was an awesome reminder that in wilderness, simple survival is the overriding constant for every living thing — except us.

      The wild encounter happened just below the viewpoint where this photo was taken. As I set up a tripod to take this image, I couldn’t stop thinking about what had unfolded on the trail just a few hours just before I came, and the rare privilege of stumbling upon it.

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      Image Description: the bright, white cone of Mount Hood stands high on the horizon, rising above lower, snow-covered peaks and ridges. The mountain is framed by snowy fir trees and two bleached snag leans in from the left to remind us of the harsh mountain conditions here. A pair of large boulders in the foreground complete the scene, freshly buried in a deep blanket of new snow.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • It’s the Muppets (of the Mountains) Show! (2003-18)

      The alpine snowfields are melting fast, and at this time of year Western pasqueflower (Pulsatilla occidentalis) springs into action. These wildflowers emerge and bloom so quickly after the snow clears that most will never see their blossoms – though almost anyone who spends time in the mountains will instantly recognize these plants by their seedhead! The mane of “hair” that covers their seed pods is famously groovy, and has inspired many colorful common names over the years. Among them:

      • Old man of the mountain

      • Hippie on a stick

      • Moptops

      • Tow-headed babies

      • Muppets of the mountains

      • Cousin Itt flower 

      (…my obscure offering of “Vilanch flower” really hasn’t stuck, unsurprisingly… you’ll have to Google it).  

      If you visit the alpine zone early enough, you might spot Western pasqueflower in its blooming phase, the unique flowers (below) revealing these as members of the Anemone family. They are so spirited is their spring emergence that the blooms come well ahead of their foliage, putting these flowers on a fast track to producing seeds, even as the summer season is just beginning.

      The bloom phase of Western pasqueflower does not last long, and soon their transformation into mountain hippies begins with a first stop in the New Wave 1980s, with spiky punk hair (below) that would make Billy Idol proud. 

      While their spiked 1980s punk styling continues to expand to Tina Turner proportions, these plants are also producing delicate, fern-like foliage that will persist through the summer. The spiked hair look didn’t last long in the 80s, nor does this phase for Western pasqueflower. Soon, their tightly spiked “hair” grows long and wavy, taking them back another decade to their ultimate early 1970s hippie motif. 

      It is this final phase tribute to the mid-70s Led Zepplin-Peter Frampton look (below) that persists for most of the summer, and is how most know the Western pasqueflower (…and to completely belabor the metaphor, their luxuriant hair eventually falls out in late summer, leaving them with only a few sad strands as they resign themselves to the county fair oldies circuit…)

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      Image Description: Three photos show the stages of blooming and seed head development of Western pasqueflower, an alpine member of the Anemone family. The first image shows a group of short, stout flowers emerging from bare ground, with white petals and bright yellow centers. The second image shows the initial stage of seed head development, with round globes covered in stiff green hairs. Delicate, fern-like foliage also appears at this stage for the Pasqueflower. The final stage shows three seedheads covered in long, wavy hairs that gives these plants their personality and many creative common names.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • White River Canyon Overlook (2017)

      The headwaters of the White River begin in a vast maze of sandy canyons that fan out below the White River Glacier, located on Mount Hood’s south side. The geologic story here is surprisingly new. Few hikers making their way up the west rim of this maze on the Timberline Trail realize that much of what they see around them – including the ground they are walking on — is barely two hundred years old. 

      At about the time Lt. William Broughton of the Royal British Navy was sailing up the Columbia River in 1792, and giving Mount Hood its modern name, the mountain was just completing a remake of the entire south side in an eruptive episode that lasted for a decade, beginning in 1781. These eruptions produced an enormous amount of volcanic ash and debris that piled up to form the smooth slopes that Timberline Lodge is built upon, and that make up the gentle slopes of Paradise Park. 

      Eight-hundred-foot Crater Rock formed from lava at the center of the vents that produced these eruptions. The monolith stands today as an impressive reminder of the power that has once again gone dormant beneath the mountain. Yet, when the Zigzag and White River glaciers reformed on the upper slopes in the years after this eruptive period, they began to make quick work of the soft new ash deposits, with their glacial outflow carving the deep canyons we see today. 

      How much material has been removed by the White River in the 230 years since? This second image gives a visual sense. Within the White River Canyon, Mesa Terrace stands as a fragile slice of the valley as it existed after the eruptions, and loses ground each year to the two forks of the White River that straddle it. The eroded areas are shaded in tan.

      Below Mesa Terrace, itself, is the pre-eruption valley floor, revealed along the eroded flanks of the terrace where the White River has exposed downed forests flattened by the eruptions. Buried for more than two centuries by hundreds of feet of ash and debris, they have been well-preserved, giving scientists insights into the mountain as it existed before.

      Travelers along the Mount Hood Loop can appreciate where all of this eroded material has gone when they cross the sprawling, mile-wide White River floodway, downstream, where the river continues to reshape the landscape to this day.

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      Image Description: The first image shows a maze of grey, sandy canyons below the snow-covered summit of Mount Hood, with the cascading White River Glacier at the head of the canyon. Blue Lupine bloom in the foreground, on the brink of the vast canyon. The second image shows the same scene, but with graphics to illustrate how the mountain once looked before these canyons had been carved into recent volcanic flows from eruptions that occurred just 230 years ago. An 800-foot lava formation called Crater Rock was created as part of these eruptions, and is circled near the top of the mountain, 

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Gnarl Ridge Ancient (2003)

      I visited this spot again last summer, twenty-two years after I took this photo. It was among my first with a digital SLR – back when that was still a novelty! This old Whitebark pine still survives here, in one of the harshest environments Mount Hood has to offer. 

      Gnarl Ridge is located high on the mountain’s southeast shoulder, where the ancient grove of Whitebarks gives the ridge its name. The trees here suffer the dual-punishment of howling winds and bitter cold from winter storms, followed by hot, dry summers, thanks to their southern exposure and the rain shadow effect on the east slopes of the mountain. 

      Whitebark pine have faced die-offs in recent decades, threatening this keystone species across the west. There’s more about the challenges these trees face in this 2013 blog article.

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      Image Description: An ancient Whitebark pine grows in the gray, volcanic sand and cinders on Mount Hood’s Gnarl Ridge. Its massive, contorted trunk lies low to the ground, bent by the extreme winters and bleached by hot summers on this high, exposed ridge. Old survivors like these give the ridge its name. Overhead, saucer-shaped lenticular clouds are forming over the Cascade crest, marking the approach of another Pacific storm from the west. On the far horizon, the rain shadow effect of the Cascade mountains can be seen in the golds, yellows and tans of desert country.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Rescued: Abiqua Falls (2017)

      Abiqua Falls is big and impressive, though known to relatively few, thanks it’s hard-to-find trailhead and rough scrambling required to navigate the “trail”.  The falls are renowned for the outstanding display of basalt columns in its massive amphitheater. The striking columns result from vertical cracks formed as the basalt lava flow cooled some 15 million years ago. The orange tint to some of the rock columns comes from orange and yellow lichens that grow on the vertical cliff walls.

      For many years the land around the falls has been held by the Mount Angel Abby Foundation, and public access was allowed. Earlier this year, however, the property abruptly went up for sale, triggering a mad scramble by waterfall lovers and state legislators to secure the falls under public ownership. A new bill that authorizes purchase of the falls and surrounding area has since been signed into law, and envisions a new state park with formal trails that improve on the sketchy user-built routes that exist today. 

      This post is a twofer, with a view of Abiqua Falls and a second image of the beautiful gorge just downstream that will also be forever protected in the new state park.

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      Image Description: There are two images shown. The first image shows tall, powerful Abiqua Falls thundering over a cliff made up of hundreds of thin, dark basalt columns, some decorated with green moss and orange lichens. Mist from the waterfall floats above a green splash pool. In the foreground, a small pool among river cobbles reflects the falls. A basalt boulder with patches of green moss borders the right side of the pool.

      The second image shows a very quiet section of Abiqua Creek, just downstream from the falls. The water is very still, and reflects the bright green and yellow mosses that blanket the boulders and cliffs bordering the stream. A pair of Bigleaf maple trees frame the stream on both sides, their trunks and limbs also covered in moss. Black basalt boulders are scattered in the stream in the foreground, also capped with bright green moss.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Devil Canyon Falls (2009)

      This post is a companion image to this new WyEast Blog article about the disputed Enola Hill Road access to Zigzag Mountain, at the west end of the Mount Hood Wilderness. I took this photo from a prominent viewpoint at the crest of Enola Hill that carries significant cultural and spiritual significance for area tribes, and thus has been the center of litigation over logging and highway building in past decades.

      The photo dates back to a reconnaissance trip several years ago in preparation for an eventual waterfall adventure to the base of the falls with a group of friends and waterfall admirers. I wanted to see if there was a way to bring a trail to this little-known falls, given that it is less than a mile from US26. 

      The linked article dives much deeper, but that trip to the falls made it clear that the best views of Devil Canyon Falls were from this more distant viewpoint, not-up close due to the steep and very rugged terrain. Nonetheless, it was spectacular, wild scene and an adventure I’ll never forget!

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      Image Description: A tall waterfall cascades down a mountain slope in a series of stairsteps, each tier a veil of bright white against the black basalt cliff. The falls are nearly concealed by a dense forest of deep green Douglas fir and Western redcedar trees that crowd the stream and grow among the cliffs and talus slopes. Bright-green new growth on Douglas fir boughs in the foreground reveal this to be a spring scene.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Spring Bloom in the Columbia Hills (2024)

      I visited this spot nearly to the day last week, and while the wildflowers were in full spectacle, the mountain was mostly hidden in clouds. Such is the unpredictable state of spring in the East Gorge. On the 2024 trip when I took this image, heavy downpours were pushing past the Cascades in dark, rolling storm cells. One cell caught me on the way out in a sudden burst of hail and blustery winds that moved on as quickly as it has arrived.

      Though soaked by the time I reached the trailhead, I wouldn’t have had it any other way. Wild weather in the Gorge is my favorite way to experience the unique landscape there – one that is continually shaped by extreme conditions, be it winter ice storms, spring downpours or summer heat and drought. Our human discomfort when the elements turn harsh are the really the best way to appreciate the tough resilience and adaptation of an ecosystem that manages to thrive under these same conditions.

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      Image Description: Vibrant yellow sunflower-shaped blooms of Arrowleaf balsamroot light up a steep, bright green desert grassland, dotted with dark basalt boulders. Far below, a sliver of highway seems to lead to Mount Hood, on the far horizon. The mountain is white with new snow against brooding storm clouds. The wide Columbia River is below, to the left, with white swirls on its silver surface during spring runoff season. Downstream, the town of The Dalles can be seen, tucked in below Mount Hood.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)

    • Clackamas Iris (2011)

      This beautiful dwarf iris grows only in the lower Clackamas and Molalla river canyons. Despite its super-local range, it’s not considered endangered, though it’s still a rare thrill for wildflower seekers to find them in bloom. These little plants grow in open, sunny gaps in Douglas fir forests and produce their pale blue or white blooms in late spring. This photo was taken on a rocky outcrop high above the water along the Clackamas River Trail. 

      The lower Clackamas River canyon has burned three times in the past two decades, most severely in the 2020 Riverside Fire. The Clackamas River Trail has since remained closed by debris and landslides from this latest fire, so we won’t know until it reopens how the Clackamas iris has fared. If forest recovery in other recent burns is any indication, the iris here should have survived – and in fact, should be thriving in the more open conditions created by the fire.

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      Image Description: A trio of white iris bloom in a diagonal line, accented with narrow yellow throats. The blooms are framed by bright green, strap-shaped iris foliage. A neighboring fern sneaks a frond into the right side of the image.

      Photo © WyEast Images (2026)