Outdoors
Rec
B
Saturday, July 2, 2022
The Observer & Baker City Herald
BEAUTY without bugs
A pleasantly mosquito-free visit to Van Patten Lake in the Elkhorn Mountains
JAYSON
JACOBY
ON THE TRAIL
I
trust mosquitoes.
I don’t like
mosquitoes, but I trust
them.
The bloodsucking bugs,
though capable of driving
Jayson Jacoby/Baker City Herald
This image taken by a drone shows an ice bridge across Van Patten Lake, in the Elkhorn
Mountains northwest of Baker City, on June 26, 2022.
a person to the verge of
temporary madness with
their incessant insectile
buzzing and biting, are
nothing if not reliable.
This is particularly so in the
alpine country of Northeastern
Oregon.
Along about the time the snow is
either gone or down to grainy drifts
the approximate consistency of sno-
cones — generally from late June
through early August, depending
on the elevation — the arrival of
the mosquitoes is as predictable as
the blooming of the lupine and the
paintbrush.
I have come to accept swat-
ting and itching as the physical toll,
along with the lung-straining chal-
lenge of steep terrain, required for
entry to such spectacular places.
As such, I especially treasure
trips when my worries about mos-
quitoes turn out to be unfounded.
So it was on June 26 when my
family trudged up the steep road,
and then the even steeper trail,
that lead to Van Patten Lake in the
Elkhorns.
Notwithstanding those punishing
grades, Van Patten is much more
accessible than most lakes in the
range.
The round trip is a mere three
miles, and the trailhead is just off
the paved highway about three
miles below, and east of, Anthony
Lakes.
Yet although Van Patten is easier
to get to than, say, Rock Creek,
Summit and Red Mountain lakes, it
yields nothing, in general grandeur,
to those pools, which require either
a torturous drive and a longer walk.
Or both, in the case of Rock
Creek Lake.
In common with many lakes in
the Elkhorns and Wallowas, Van
Patten occupies a basin gouged in
the bedrock (granitic, in this case)
by an Ice Age glacier. At about
16.5 acres, Van Patten is the fi fth-
largest lake in the Elkhorns, behind
Rock Creek (24 acres), Anthony
(22), Pine Creek Reservoir (18) and
Summit (17).
Van Patten isn’t always quite so
big, however. Some of its fl ow is
diverted each summer for irriga-
tion, and by late summer the lake is
noticeably shrunken.
But in late June it’s about as full
as it gets.
And about as deeply blue as
water can be — that inimitable
shade peculiar to cold, crystalline
lakes at high elevations.
My experience with mosquitoes
at Van Patten is a long one, marked
by much muttering (occasionally
profane) and frenzied fl ailing of
arms more commonly associated
with seizures.
My wife, Lisa, recalls, with the
sort of hyper acuity reserved for
especially unpleasant episodes, a
visit many years ago when the bugs
seemed destined to craft nests in
her hair.
It’s a buggy place.
I had, therefore, forgotten to put
repellent in my pack.
Lisa, fortunately, had not.
I wasn’t certain that mosquitoes
would be swarming.
My previous encounters, so far
as I can remember, all happened
in July, the peak month, generally
speaking, for alpine mosquitoes.
There was no shortage of insects,
to be sure, as we climbed toward
the lake. And each time a tiny
dark speck whizzed past my face
I winced slightly, anticipating the
telltale dental drill whining.
It did not happen.
The DEET-enriched spray can
remained in Lisa’s pack.
We hiked a short way along the
northern shore of the lake, which
is shaped rather like a lance, much
longer than it is across.
The ice was nearly gone but
there was a curious bridge of white
spanning the lake near its west end.
I piloted our drone on a brief fl ight,
and it captured some intriguing
photos of the ice bridge, which was
riddled on its edges with fi ssures
that reminded me of a river delta.
It was a brilliant day, and pleas-
antly warm even at 7,400 feet.
There was a breeze, though, and as
always seems to be the case in such
elevated places, it was refreshing,
nothing like the dog’s breath of a
summer wind on a scorching day in
the valley.
See, Van Patten/Page B6
Van Patten Lake in the Elkhorn Mountains on June 26.
Lisa Britton/Baker City Herald
Between fungi and friends: to share or not to share?
DENNIS
DAUBLE
THE NATURAL WORLD
O
ne week into the bloom of
lowland peas and I am on
my way to a ridgetop near
Spout Springs, Oregon. Sagebrush
country in the rearview mirror.
Guitar licks on satellite radio.
Sack of doughnuts in the shotgun
seat. I would be casting fl ies for
wild trout, but not during this
unsettled weather year, when Blue
Mountain streams still run high
and roily.
Halfway down a state highway
crowded with farm equipment, I
dial up my brother to report I am
going mushroom hunting.
“Likely the last time this year,”
I say.
“You heading out by your-
self?” he asks.
“I’ve got a cell phone.”
Black morels fi ll your bag
quickly when you fi nd two
large ones together
Coral mushrooms grow up to a pound
or more in size and are best harvested
when they fi rst push up through damp
soil.
White morels are easily
spotted against a background
of conifer needles and wild
strawberry plants.
Dennis Dauble/Contributed Photos
“Do you have provisions in
case you get stuck?
“Sure,” I say. “A pocket knife,
two water bottles, matches, a
chicken salad sandwich, and a bag
of chips.”
“Good luck with that,” he
replies.
It’s nice to know my big
brother, whose favorite childhood
joke was to stretch soiled under-
pants over my head while I slept,
still cares.
Stream fi shing aside, it has
been a good spring. Mushroom
hunts started at 2,200-foot ele-
vation on May 20. The Umatilla
Forks Campground, shaded wil-
derness trails up Buck Creek,
and searches around our cabin
failed to produce. However, the
following day yielded a robust
family of corals near Lick Creek,
proving that persistence pays off .
The next sojourn took place
in a blackened landscape on the
east slope of the Cascade Moun-
tains. This one led by two friends
who grew up in Yakima and fi nd
excuse to travel that direction for
recreation whenever possible. I’m
OK with sharing their venue as
long as I don’t have to drive and
we stop at a brew pub on the way
home.
The fi rst search area, at eleva-
tion 3,000 feet near Little Rattle-
snake Creek, reminded, “never
stop at the fi rst fi shing hole you
encounter by the side of the road
because it will yield nothing.” In
other words, the warmup hunt was
a waste of time. A gentle draw
where fi re burned hot across the
base of living ponderosa pines
eventually validated the experi-
ence. Following a string of foot-
prints left by others, we collected
a few dozen morels, a spring
bolete, and two large puff balls.
The latter mushroom is said to
taste “just like tofu.”
See, Fungi/Page B6