Butterflies in the Land of Mordor

 'twas in the darkest depths of Mordor, I found a butterfly so fair, but Gollum and the evil eye took her away from me.

Lorquin's Admiral, Dougan Creek August 2021

Led Zeppelin, Ramble On, loosely

    It had been a beautiful fall in the Pacific Northwest.  Especially if you like it dry.  In the last six weeks of Indian Summer the Portland area had experienced only one tenth of an inch of measurable rainfall.  Talk about a dry martini.  

   Sandra and I enjoyed one of these beautiful days the previous week, returning to Dougan Creek.  We had a lovely picnic down by the creek, which despite the drought had enough water in it to be gurgling along in its merry fashion. 

   Back up on the road I caught a Lorquin's Admiral and down by the fish hatchery we saw (but were unable to net) a buttery yellow butterfly, probably an Orange Sulfur.  These are not uncommon butterflies, but I was surprised that anything was flying so late in the season.  Bob Pyle, on the other hand, tells us that Lorquin's Admiral flies through early October and the Orange Sulfur is on the wing through early November!  So the second week of October was still well within their normal range.

Nakia Creek Fire, October 17, 2022  Photo Tara Hill

     On Sunday we went to church and then wound our way up Livingston Mountain, on the outskirts of Camas,  to have lunch with our son and his family.  James had warned us that it was smoky, and this wasn't entirely a surprise, since a fire had been burning in the national forest about ten miles north of his home for over a week. 
Ten days previously I saw the fire on the evening news and I immediately texted both James and Tara, "Fire on Larch Mountain!"  Tara texted back right away, saying that it had been scary the night before but now the fire was under control.  And she included this picture, taken the previous evening from their back porch.  

    Day after day we had been watching the fire on the evening news with trepidation.  Small fires, like the Caldor Fire in California, had puttered along for days and suddenly, when the wind picked up, blossomed into a fearsome monster.  A few weeks previous I had watched the 60 Minutes installment which showed the remains of Grizzly Flats, California, now burned to the ground.  And here we were with a twenty knot wind and a fire just over the ridge. 

    When we stepped into the house, the place where we have watched our grandchildren grow up over the last seven years, James told us we were on evacuation alert, but not yet directed to evacuate.  And so we had lunch.  A few minutes after dining, the wind shifted.  It was now blowing 25 straight at us and the call came to evacuate.  We were out of there in ten minutes and joined a parade of cars winding down Livingston Road.  As we made our way to safety, each of us was wondering if we would ever see the home again.  

Margined White, Cold Creek Campground, May 2022

    On our way down to Camas, we passed the small municipal airport.  There we saw about a dozen firefighters and two engines, ready to head in the direction from which we had come.  That night the news was anything but reassuring and the next day we found the map showing the evacuation area.  At the very top of the red area you might find Cold Creek Campground.  This delightful bit of forest is the spot where we found the Margined White in May and the Great Spangled Fritillary in August.  In as much as the fire was moving from north to south one can't hold out too much hope for Cold Creek Campground.

   While you are looking at the map, note that Dougan Falls is at three o'clock, on the edge of the pink mandatory evacuation zone.  How do you tell birds, bees and butterflies to evacuate?

   That first night was unsettled.  I wondered if after we returned to Hawaii,  our young family would try to live in our little condo.  But amazingly, three days after the evacuation Tara and James were allowed to return to their home to check on things and the following day the family moved back home. 

Firefighters camp at the Camas Airport,  photo SKG

   How was this possible?  As it turned out 500 firefighters were brought into the Camas area.  This was a mobilization beyond my wildest imagination. The firefighters camped on the high school fields where my grandson plays soccer and in the field opposite the Camas-Washougal Airport, three miles closer to the fire.  Later in the week, as we drove up to Livingston Mountain, we passed the airport and saw a well organized encampment of the firefighters.  We estimated that there were 100 tents in adddition to some support structures.  A week later Sandra got this snapshot of the firefighter's camp.  

    It still seems unbelievable that the area was saved.   We all a debt to the brave firefighters, one so big that it can never be properly repaid.  As for the butterflies, we will get out there next spring and see what we can find.  

jeff