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The Woolly Mules Ears (Wyethia mollis) are common along much of the PCT. But nowhere are they more abundant than in the northern portion of Section K (south of Donner Pass) and throughout Section L (north of Donner Pass). The Woolly Mules Ear is a member of the aster family with a distinctive yellow flower and broad leaves covered in soft hairs. To the touch in the spring and summer the leaves feel not unlike the soft, pliable ears of a mule. This perennial herb grows in forests and other mountain habitat such as dry open meadows with sagebrush. It grows from a tough taproot that makes it possible to thrive in volcanic soils because of its deep roots. The seeds are edible and taste similar to sunflower seeds. I personally love the broad expanses of Mules Ears that cover the rounded hilltops north and south of Donner Pass as pictured above.

By late summer and fall, the desiccated leaves make a rustling sound when moved by mountain breezes. I’ve walked this same stretch in the autumn and love their constant murmur. Karen ‘Pickles’ deSousa took these photos (below) from Section L one recent fall near Castle Peak. Although less dramatic than the larch we have featured in recent posts, the subtle browns and yellows of the Mules Ears make for a wonderful addition to the northern Sierra in September and October.

#Woolly Mules Ears #Mules Ears #CA Section L #CA Section K #Donner Pass #Castle Peak

Flowers flowers flowers flowers

We have posted Karen ‘Pickles’ deSousa’s writing and photographs from her PCT experiences before (January 29th and March 5th) . . . I wanted to add this one from an autumn section hike that she did between September 19 - October 4, 2017 starting at Highway 36 and walking south to Echo Summit . . . a distance of 239 miles. This photo captures some of the magic of fall hiking.

This stretch of the PCT is abundant with ‘Mules Ears’ (Wyethia mollis). Early in the season, this member of the aster family covers hillsides with yellow flowers. However, by mid-September they create (in Karen’s words), “an amazing rustling gold carpet.“ Rustling is the perfect word for the murmur the dry leaves produce as they rub against one another in the autumn breezes. And, as an extra bonus, they add a rich light brown color to the hillsides.

You can follow Karen’s journey as she section-hikes her way from Canada to Mexico at www.karengoesoutside.com

She leaves soon to complete another segment hiking north from I-10 through the Transverse Range.

#Mules Ears #fall hiking

Abby ‘Lady’ McCarthy strides through a mountainside of Mules Ears south of Donner Summit, June, 2018

If there is a single plant identified with the mountains of the northern Sierra, it is the Mules Ear . . . an aptly named plant given its soft, fuzzy leaves. The ocean of yellow flowers festoon the PCT this time of the year north of Sonora Pass past Sierra Buttes. As it turns out there are 10 species of Wyethia in California although only one grows above 5,000 feet. Wyethia mollis is a member of the Sunflower family. It is slow growing and long-lived. Flowers are yellow and striking, and bloom in the late spring through the early summer in the high country. Leaves are white-gray and deciduous. It tends to be a pioneer species, growing in open grassy areas or recently burned sites, at elevations up to10,600 feet.

#Mules Ears #northern Sierra

Nature | Morning in a Meadow

LG G4 Rated as the Best Camera Phone for Pictures @ Searchy.One Search Description From Photographer if Any: After camping near this meadow in the Sangre de Cristo Mtns. of New Mexico, I found a little forest of mule’s ears and a BIG spider web. Glorious fog and dew after so many weeks of hot clear weather. By MJF_Images Source: 500px.com

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#american west #fine art photography #fog #MJF Images #mules ears #natural world #nature #New mexico #North America #Rockies #Sangre de Cristo Mountains #spider web #usa

Day 75: Hello, Wildflowers

One of the real treats of hiking the PCT, is the floral display. Flowers change with elevation, latitude, the season, and access to water, sun, and nutrients but they flourish in the desert south just as they do in the frigid north and the deep forest. "Bacon Bit" and her hiking partner, "Kindergarden Cop", muse about flowers.

(Mile 1034.5 to 1056 = 21.5 miles)

By Bacon Bit

Colombine always catches my eye; it seems playful.

"Every woman loves getting flowers," Kindergarten Cop said one afternoon during a rest stop. I disagreed. I don't really like flowers. Oh, they are a nice gesture, and many, many women do indeed love receiving flowers; I'm just really not one of them. I thought for awhile. "Skulls," I said. "A skull is a perfect thoughtful gift for me. Or any other found bone." "Skulls with flowers in the sockets." "Sure."

Monkey flowers remind me of my own park, Silver Falls.

I remember the last time I received flowers. Irises. I do love irises (as does my oldest sister, Liz, and did my grandmother, Agnes.) I also remembered being shocked upon gazing at those flowers. They were huge! And the colors and shape so pronounced! I knew and loved my little pale purple Oregon Irises. These domesticated ones were like watching the Hollywood version of your favorite book. You recognize the story, but everything is bigger and flashier, and you're not quite sure if you love it or hate it. There is just something about a wildflower, a subtle beauty you stumble upon as walking along. You don't expect it; it just appears and stops you in your tracks. It is the difference between the naturally beautiful woman you bump into at the post office and the done-up bombshell at the bar. Both attractive, but in different ways. I suppose it depends then on what you like. I guess I am more of a post office gal.

These lupine were nearly as tall as me! Other lupine were only an inch tall.

We walked through thousands of wildflowers today. It was incredible. And it made what might have been a long day, memorable and meaningful. There is just something about a wildflower. It has been the colors that have struck me most during this trip. I wrote awhile back on one of our last days in the desert that my new favorite color was pink. Bright pink. Now, normally, my favorite color is actually gray -- especially that slightly blue, slightly purple shade of gray. I still love gray. But that day in the desert was the first time in my adult life that I understood loving pink. It had been a hot, monotonous, lonely, and miserable couple of days. Dull terrain, bleached sky, and nothing but browns, grays, and greens. Then, out of the blue, a late season cactus appeared with huge bright pink blossoms. It stopped me in my tracks and brought a big grin to my face. That was pink. That was what pink feels like. I got it. And all of the wildflowers' colors have been like that this trip. I see them, and I get a sense of what those vibrant colors feel like. We get so used to items "coming in" colors that I think we sometimes forget that all of the shades exist in the natural world. And the combinations! I think of the color combination booklets you can get at the paint store ... we have nothing on nature's work.

Ah ... mariposa lilies! In a bed of mint. Yum.

So, today, I thoroughly enjoyed the wildflowers. I also enjoyed repeating their names. (The ones I knew ... I am a bit embarrassed at my weakness with botany. I can get by, but just with armchair knowledge. I will be working on it post-trip.) I know there is a vein of naturalists and interpreters who feel that knowing the names of everything is not important. Why must we name everything? But I like knowing the names of plants. For me, it conjures up associations and memories.

Bouquets of wildflowers were around every corner!

There were all shades and sizes of paintbrushes today. I don't know all of the specific species, but I do know they were all paintbrushes and appreciated their differences. It reminded me of the story the NPS ranger told when I first learned of paintbrushes, something about painting the color of the sunset. And sunset shades are the shades of the various paintbrushes; and the flowers look just like brushes dipped in a sunset. I also saw mariposa lilies. Every time I hear the word "mariposa," I think of a trip I took to Oregon's future state park, Cottonwood Canyon. We visited a proposed lookout point, and there I saw and ID'd my first mariposa lily. It was the loveliest wildflower I'd ever seen. A pale pink flower with a creamy center, delicately blowing in the wind. Here, they are cream with a yellow center and dark burgundy markings. And there are thousands of them. All conjure up that feeling I had when I saw my first. Mariposa lily, I repeat to myself. The names are like the names of friends. Say your good friend's name, and something, a feeling about them comes to mind. Same with wildflowers. Repeat the last name of a family you enjoy, and a feeling about all of them comes to mind. Same with wildflowers. If you get to know wildflowers and their names, it is like having friends all over the place. Which, it turns out, is important for endless reasons on a trip such as this.