A Winter Wonderland in the Hocking Hills

Earlier this week Southeast Ohio finally received what felt like its first appreciable snow event of the season.  We've had countless dustings and a few passing systems that left an inch or two on the ground but in the end nothing that made you want to throw your snow boots on.  So when a fresh five inches fell overnight and draped the world in a picture perfect winter wonderland, I immediately felt the urge to get out and enjoy it.

Quiet, snow-covered trail along Queer Creek in the Hocking Hills

I decided the best bang for my hiking buck would be to brave the cold and make the short drive to the Hocking Hills for the day. The snow coincided perfectly with a rare day where I had little on the schedule and I was determined to take advantage of it.  The road conditions were poor and air temperatures only in the single digits during the drive out but the crisp blue sky and bright sun really made the landscape pop under all the snow.

Blackhand sandstone is a work of art carved by wind, rain and ice

I passed hardly any cars during the drive and encountered even fewer people on the trails.  In fact, just about everywhere I went my tire and/or foot tracks were the first to tarnish the previously pristine snow.  The Hocking Hills is easily one of the state's most popular and heavily visited attractions year-round but I had it more or less entirely to myself for the day and loved every minute of it.

A frozen solid Cedar Falls

The morning started off with a quick stop by famed Cedar Falls.  With subzero temperatures the night before and daily highs well below freezing for days on end, I knew its typically graceful flow would be locked up in a tremendous display of ice.  I was not disappointed.  The silence of the scene was only broken by a slow trickle of water behind the massive mask of ice.

Wide view of frozen Cedar Falls in the Hocking Hills

One of the reasons the Hocking Hills was an easy choice for a snow-laden hike was its year-round presence of color.  Most of Ohio over-winters in a variety of depressingly drab shades of brown and gray.  The Hocking Hills bucks that trend with a rich display of iron-orange Blackhand sandstone and evergreen hemlocks.  I'm especially partial to the color of the uniquely patterned sandstone. It's deserving of its own color in a Crayola crayon box coming soon.

Appalachian rockcap fern (Polypodium appalachianum) tightly curled in the subfreezing temperatures

Multiple layers of wool and fleece kept your narrator warm and toasty despite hours spent out in the subfreezing temperatures.  The same could not be said for the rest of the plant and animal life trying to survive the winter.  The Appalachian rockcap ferns (Polypodium appalachianum) that grace many slump rocks and boulders throughout the region looked especially cold.  Their evergreen fronds were all tightly curled inward, as if to shiver off the arctic chill.

Snow, sandstone and hemlocks

Leaving Cedar Falls behind, I made for my next stop in a lesser known part of Hocking state forest in Edison Hollow.  It's off the beaten path but contains much of the same beauty and features that make the region so popular.

Mature forest within Edison Hollow

Walking back into the bottleneck of the hollow takes you through an impressive forest with a lofty canopy and mature timber. Hemlock, black and yellow birch, beech, tuliptree, red and white oak, sugar maple, black cherry and basswood were all present and combine to make a locally significant forest community.  The Hocking Hills rugged and rough topography creates a cool, moist micro climate in its deep hollows which allows for the typically more northern assemblage of trees and plants to persist.

80'+ waterfall at the back of Edison Hollow

 
Once I reached the back of the gorge my eyes were met with an impressive straight plunge waterfall over 80 feet tall.  Much like Cedar Falls, Edison's was nearly frozen solid and only had a small drip of life to it.  The ice pyramid at its base was especially impressive.  It dwarfed me when standing next to it at nearly 20 feet in height and emitted a soft greenish-blue glow through its complex layers of ice crystals.

Snow, wind and light combine for a stunning scene

My visit to Edison Hollow happened to coincide with the sun positioned behind the falls and illuminating the stand of hemlocks at its precipice.  For a few brief moments the wind would pick up and send the hemlock's accumulated snow into the air, creating a heavenly glow of light above the falls.  The sunbeams would stream through the haze of ice and dance in waves and ripples.

Abruptly ending squirrel tracks

Greenshield Lichen (Flavoparmelia caperata)

The winter woods has a silence and beauty all its own, even more so after a fresh snowfall.  Animal activity was sparse with only a few lines of tracks meandering through the trees.  My favorites were the squirrel prints.  Their tracks would abruptly end a few feet from a tree as if it was suddenly snatched up in an alien spaceship's tractor beam...instead of just jumping onto and scurrying up the tree.

Overlooking the Queer Creek valley from atop a sandstone rock outcropping

After experiencing some impressive upward views in the sandstone gorges and hollows, it was high time to gain some elevation.  I chose another secluded and hardly-traveled area in the south-facing ridge line of the Queer Creek valley.  The valley contains a number of nice rock outcroppings that show off their views across the rough terrain.  Once again the dominant presence of the evergreen hemlocks and their snow-covered branches really magnified the charm of the scene.

Virginia Pine (Pinus virginiana)

Mountain Laurel (Kalmia latifolia)

The hemlocks weren't the only source of seasonal greenery.  Stunted Virginia pines and tangles of mountain laurel grew all along the rocky cliff's edges and perimeter.  They were right at home with the other dry, acidic condition-loving plants of the ridge tops like chestnut, black and scarlet oaks, downy serviceberry, hillside blueberry, black huckleberry and sourwood.

Sandstone rock outcrop above Rooty Hollow along the Queer Creek Valley

This past summer was the first time I'd ever experienced this particular part of the Hocking Hills.  These same rocky outcrops and cliff edges above Queer Creek are home to the state endangered cow-wheat (Melampryum lineare) and were the subject of a day's monitoring and surveying back on a hot and humid day in June.  The views and off-trail seclusion of it all made an instant impression back then and I knew it had to be equally good come winter.

Walking back into the bottleneck of Conkle's Hollow

No trip to the Hocking Hills for me is ever complete without a stop by Conkle's Hollow.  I'm fortunate to have seen and experienced as much of our fine state as I have and even after the years and new places, Conkle's still makes me swoon.  Walking back into its deep gorge or walking the rim trails, I never tire of the feel or atmosphere of the preserve.

Sheer sandstone goodness

Conkle's hollow is one of the deepest in the entire state with depths of over 200 feet.  Many people consider Ohio to be flat and featureless.  It depends on where you're standing when you say that I suppose, but they'd best not be in the Hocking Hills!  Where else in the state do you get sheer walls of rock hundreds of feet tall right in your face?

Yellow birch roots exposed and growing down rock

Hefty hemlock

The predominate bedrock material of the Hocking Hills was laid down some 340 million years ago during the Mississippian Period. During that time the region was under a warm, shallow sea where several prehistoric waterways deposited their sediment loads over a series of deltaic complexes.  Over the eons the sediment layers cemented together to form the Blackhand sandstone we know today. Subsequent geological unrest in the region uplifted and exposed this strata of bedrock to the elements, where millions of years of wind, water and ice has carved out the incredible features we see today.

Frozen ice pillars at the back of Conkle's Hollow

Conkle's Hollow is supremely one of Father time and Mother nature's best works of erosion and patience in the state.  It's fun to think about what the preserve and hollow will look like hundreds of thousands of years into the future.  We live in such a brief flash of geologic time it's hard to comprehend the changes that have happened and will continue happening over the millions and billions of years.

Looking back into the bottleneck of Conkle's Hollow from the east rim trail

As the Blackhand sandstone was laid down, the sediments conglomerated into layers of varying erosion resistance.  The bottom and topmost layers are course-grained and firmly cemented, thus being very resistant to weathering.  These layers make up the basements of the region's hollows and their respective rims and tops of waterfalls.  The middle strata is comprised of a much finer grained sand that was crossbedded and weakly cemented, leaving it vulnerable to erosion.  This layer is where you see your recesses, caves and rock shelters.  Conkle's Hollow and the countless others in the Hocking Hills came to exist when a massive crack or fault in the previously more or less solid block of bedrock occurred and was gradually eaten away until it met more resilient rock.  Over millions of years it's gotten as far as what you see in the photo above.  It all comes back to time and the Earth has had a lot of it to work with.

Looking south out of Conkle's Hollow

This view just never gets old or boring, no matter how many times you've seen it

The afternoon skies had clouded up and a brisk wind was beginning to stir by the time I got to the eastern rim trail.  Temperatures had warmed into the low 20's but that new wind cut like a knife.  Still, it wasn't enough to dull the experience of the rim.  I've soaked in this view dozens of times and taken the same photo dozens more but it never, ever gets even one iota old.

The state-rare resurrection fern (Pleopeltis polypodioides)

I capped off my all-day Hocking Hills hiking extravaganza with a quick stop by a particular hunk of rock to see how one of our hardiest ferns was dealing with the harsh winter conditions.  Just as I expected, the state-rare resurrection fern (Pleopeltis polypodioides) looked just about dead.  But not to fear, it's just playing possum and will be back good as new with time.  This species gets its common name from its ability to dry and shrivel to a near-crisp during times of cold and/or arid conditions and snap right back to a lush, green state after getting a drink.  A fern that can come back from the "dead".  Resurrection, indeed.

I certainly got my wish for a good snowfall at some point this winter but it could be noted that you should always be careful what you wish for.  Another six-seven inches has fallen today to leave a solid foot of the white stuff on the ground.  That can only mean it's time to get out and do some more winter wonderland exploration, right?

~ ALG ~

A Quirky Orchid Under Old-Growth Pine and Hemlock

If you're a first time reader and/or visitor to this page, I thank you for dropping in and hope you enjoy your stay. For everyone else, whether it be my long-time readers or recent followers you should probably know by now of my obsession with our wild orchids.  It's a passion that only increases as the weeks and months go by after all.  I hope to feature or share each and every one of Ohio's 47 indigenous taxa on here at least once as time goes on.  The one that happens to be featured in this post also happens to be one of my favorites.  I know, every other orchid species is "one of my favorites" but this one is definitely on the top ten list.

Dan deep in thought under the old-growth white pines and hemlocks

The hike to the site for our upcoming quirky orchid is one of my favorites in Ohio, as it takes you into one of the rarest habitats our state has left to offer.  Along a north facing bluff overlooking the deep sandstone gorge of the Clear Fork of the Mohican is a very small but very significant old-growth white pine and hemlock forest full of ancient and towering specimens.  Above my good friend and botanical companion for the day, Daniel Boone pauses under a particularly profound white pine to ponder the beauty of the forest.

Soaring white pine

Stout hemlocks

Stout and straight with hardly a taper is the rule in this grove and that makes it truly a sight to behold.  Even on the clearest and sunniest of days the forest floor remains cool and dark with its lofty canopy keeping the sun at bay overhead.  The melodic notes of the veery, hermit thrush, and black-throated green warbler are never far from your ear during this time of year and add another layer to your sensory overload.

Round-leaved orchid under the pines and hemlocks

Due to the aforementioned low-light conditions, the forest floor is sparsely vegetated with a large ratio of the ground merely a bed of fallen pine needles and oak leaves among a scattering of intermediate wood fern (Dryopteris intermedia).  Hardly anything seems able to live, let alone thrive in such conditions but the round-leaved orchid (Platanthera orbiculata) has managed to find a way. 

Round-leaved Orchid (Platanthera orbiculata)

Its large, round basal leaves are hard to miss among the detritus when purely vegetative but there's really no overlooking the plant when in full glorious flower.  It's ghostly cream-green glow beckons any willing soul toward its wand of bizarre looking flowers arranged in perfect fashion along a scape.

Close up of the raceme of round-leaved orchid

In my opinion, no other Ohio orchid's individual flower structure is more out-of-this-world than the round-leaved orchid's.  In something out of a drug-induced vision of the late Hunter S. Thompson, the flowers look like scurrying demonic, bat-headed beings on four legs with a tail, all ascending back up into their alien mothership.  Anyone care to share what they see in the flowers?

Such weird looking flowers

Aerial view of the round-leaved orchid

Orchids have the reputation for being some of the more fickle and finicky wildflowers out there and that stereotype definitely holds true with this species, at least in your narrator's experience.  I've visited this site annually for the past four years and it's certainly had its boom and bust years.  In 2011 the population had a mass bloom with dozens of plants bearing flowering stalks of varying size and vigor.  Subsequent visits in 2012 and 2013 produced essentially no flowering individuals with the most recent trip in 2014 bearing a good amount in flower but not approaching that of 2011.  

A spectacular specimen of the round-leaved orchid

Living in such a low-light environment, it's no surprise this species would come to evolve and bear such over-sized leaves and have a staggered bloom cycle from year to year.  Only a tiny fraction of the total available sunlight beaming down at the canopy penetrates through and reaches this particularly bleak forest floor, so any plants below are going to need all the help they can to keep their glucose factories humming along.  Sending up a flower stalk is an enormous allocation of energy for each individual plant so it makes perfect sense that a round-leaved orchid would take several years off between reproduction events to accumulate and replenish its energy stores before repeating the process.  

Round-leaved orchid portrait

The round-leaved orchid is predominately a species of the coniferous hardwood and mixed forests of the Great Lakes region, the Northeast, and all across northern Canada.  It does occur at higher elevations in the Appalachians as far south as Tennessee and North Carolina as well as in limited parts of the northern Rockies.  Here in Ohio, it occurs throughout the northeastern quarter of the state in a variety of mesic-dry conifer and mixed forests.  At Clear Fork Gorge it seems to prefer the oldest areas of the white pine/hemlock/chestnut oak forest accompanied by a thick duff of conifer needles where little else occurs.

Round-leaved orchid from 2011.

Round-leaved orchid from 2011.

As impossible as it is to see every orchid, every year going forward, I do my best to revisit each species because I'm just that nuts I guess?  Probably, but also because few things are more fun and get me more excited than the prospect of seeing an old friend again and these orchids were long overdue for a sit down.

Tanner getting acquainted with the round-leaved orchids

Along with Dan on this foray was my friend and exceptional field botanist in his own right, Tanner Morris who has a soft spot for our wild orchids as well.  He had never had the chance to see and photograph this species before so I was extra pleased this population finally came back to life this season.  Not to speak for Tanner himself but I think it's safe to assume he couldn't have enjoyed the experience more.  Hopefully there will be some around next year to see as barely even 12 hours removed, I'm already anticipating the next time.

Sweet Pinesap in the Red River Gorge

I'm quite fortunate to have witnessed and experienced as many different places as I have in my relatively short amount of time on this planet but there's always some that fall through the cracks.  The Red River Gorge in east-central Kentucky has always been one of those aforementioned missed opportunities and as such was someplace I wanted to make sure to mark off my list this year.  So this past weekend, myself and friends Daniel Boone and Joe Bens rose with the sun for an early morning rendezvous and drive down to the gorge.  Having never been myself, it was a pleasure to have the knowledge of Dan and Joe at my disposal who knew the botanical hot spots and "can't misses".

View across the wide chasm of the Red River Gorge in east-central Kentucky

A large portion of the gorge is located within Daniel Boone National Forest and a designed National Natural Landmark as well as listed on the National Register of Historic Places.  It's famed geologic formations have developed over millions of years from erosion and wear from the forces of wind, water, and ice.  This long exposure to the elements has left remarkable sandstone cliffs, natural bridges, waterfalls, and rock shelters scattered throughout the region, which in turn has seen it become one of the world's premiere rock climbing destinations. Due to the uniqueness of the region's rugged and wild landscape, a wide variety of habitats and environments occur and are filled with a diverse amount of flora and fauna.

Serviceberry (Amelanchier arborea) blooming along a sandstone cliff

Upon our arrival we decided to make for a specific part of the gorge that was known to harbor a globally rare plant that was a highly anticipated part of the day's itinerary and a species I had long wanted to make acquaintances with.  Unfortunately, we found the trailhead surrounded by half a dozen or so U.S. forestry service vehicles and would come to find out a nearby wildfire had closed the trail indefinitely.  The fire was a fair ways off and hardly a threat to our current location but the folks in charge weren't about to let us take a step down that path.  With our hopes dashed a bit, Dan, Joe, and I headed off for another nearby trail to see if our luck would change.

The plant we had our eye's set on finding was the rare sweet pinesap or pygmy pipes (Monotropsis odorata), a myco-heterotrophic species that depends entirely on a symbiotic relationship with subterranean mycorrhiza fungi it parasitizes for nourishment.  Making the task even harder than not knowing where to look was the fact sweet pinesap is more or less neutrally colored and blends in seamlessly with the detritus on the ground.  Going on Dan's previous experience with the plant that Virginia pines in particular seem to coincide with occurrence of the plant, we combed the understory of the scrubby oak/pine forest situated atop a sandstone ridge with some spectacular accompanying views.

Large clump of sweet pinesap (Monotropsis ordorata) under some Virginia pines

After a while of fruitless searching and the creep of doubt beginning to set in, I noticed what appeared to a be a weird clump of pine cones peaking out of the browned, fallen leaves and pine needles.  No sooner had I made eye contact with the suspicious clump of something when my nose detected a strong, spicy odor on the air.  Definitely not pine cones!  I gave a hearty holler to Dan and Joe that I had found precisely what we were looking for.

Sweet pinesap (Monotropsis odorata) close up

Sweet pinesap is accurately named, as this wildflower has quite possibly, nay definitely the most intoxicating and enchanting aroma my olfactories have ever had the gratification of smelling.  It was quite reminiscent of cloves with a slightly sweeter twist that just made your nose swoon.  All three of us took turns lying on our stomachs, noses hovering only millimeters from the mauve petals, savoring every inhalation.  I think it's safe to assume that if you could get a high off huffing this plant, we would know!

Clump of sweet pinesap (Monotropsis odorata)

Pygmy pipes (as they are also known to go by) hail from the subfamily Monotropoideae within the expansive heath family (Ericaceae).  At first glance it doesn't look like something that would be related to blueberries and rhododendrons but upon inspecting their flower's inner workings and arrangment the evidence becomes more clear. The plant seems to want to hide its elegance and good looks behind the papery brown sepals and bracts that sheathe the majestic purple petals and stems.  Try as it might, its allure isn't lost on my eyes.

Dan getting a better look and smell of the sweet pinesap

The Red River Gorge is close to the northern edge of the sweet pinesap's range and is just one of a handful of localities known for it in the state of Kentucky, where it's listed as a threatened species.  The amount of relief to have not traveled multiple hours only to leave empty handed was palpable among the three of us and allowed for the rest of the day's discoveries to be the cherries on top of our botanical sundae.

Joe and Dan walking through a hemlock and rhododendron filled sandstone gorge

After getting our fill of the aromatic pygmy pipes, we made our way down into the gorge itself to explore some of the sandstone hollows and what surprises awaited within.  Eastern hemlock, beech, red/white oaks, black birch, tuliptree, cucumber magnolia, and white pine rose far above our heads as tangles and thickets of rosebay rhododendron (Rhododendron maximum) and mountain laurel (Kalmia latifolia) intertwined underneath.  Apart from the rhododendron, it had a comparable feel to Ohio's Hocking Hills region.

Halberd-leaved Violet (Viola hastata)

Halberd-leaved Violet (Viola hastata)

Scattered among the bevy of other wildflowers in the dappled sunlight was halberd-leaved violet (Viola hastata), a taxon I'd never seen before and had only admired from the computer screen.  It's not too often you come across a plant where one might argue its foliage is more attractive than its flower but I found the leaves especially charming.

Small grouping of red trillium (Trillium erectum)

The cool, sandy, acidic-soiled slopes were ensconced with hundreds upon hundreds of red trillium (Trillium erectum) in full bloom among the Carolina spring beauties (Claytonia caroliniana), mitrewort (Mitella diphylla), large-flowered trillium (T. grandiflorum), and plantain-leaved sedge (Carex plantaginea).

Long-stalked Sedge (Carex pedunculata)

Plagiomnium ciliare moss with capsules

It can't always be all about the showier stuff while out on a hike.  Sometimes it's best to slow down and admire the more obscure and overlooked that never seem to get enough attention, like sedges and mosses for example.  In seepy areas on the hollow's steep slopes grew clumps of the handsome long-stalked sedge (Carex pedunculata) with its dark pistillate scales contrasted against lime green perigynia.  The fresh capsules of Plagiomnium ciliare from the Mniaceae family almost seem like something not of this world.

Deeper in a sandstone hollow with rhododendron covered cliff faces

Deeper into the hollow the steep slopes turned into precipitous sandstone rock walls and cliffs rimmed with rhododendron and clumps of unfurling wood ferns.  The returning migrants were in full song as the melodies of black-and-white warbler, pine warbler, black-throated green warbler, Louisiana waterthrush, ovenbird, and blue-headed vireo filled our ears.  We held out hope we might catch the tune of the rare Swainson's warbler but were perhaps a bit too early.

Round-leaved Violet (Viola rotundifolia)

Round-leaved Violet (Viola rotundifolia)

Another yellow-colored violet I'd yet to see before was the round-leaved violet (Viola rotundifolia).  What initially started as clumps past flowering and already in fruit turned into plants still in full flower further back in the hollow. Both this and halberd-leaved violet occur in Ohio but are restricted to the northeastern quarter of the state.

Intricate exposed white pine roots

Native white pines growing along a cliff bluff

An interesting aspect and association to the forest canopy's makeup was the scattered presence of old, large native white pines.  They took a page from the hemlocks and grew from the bluffs and rock faces throughout the gorge and measured two-three feet in diameter with untold heights.  The pair photographed above right are showing off the intricate design of their exposed roots spread out across the face of a sandstone boulder.

Dwarf Ginseng (Panax trifolius)

Later that the day found us exploring some stretches of forest near the gorge's floor along the Red River where ancient and impressively proportioned hemlocks, beech, and red oak abounded.  Dan's sharp eyes managed to turn up a nice population of delicate dwarf ginseng (Panax trifolius) in perfect flower.  Dwarf ginseng's blooms are much more conspicuous and aesthetic compared to their American ginseng (P. quinquefolius) kin's and lack the medicinal value of its larger brethren as well.

Along the Rock Garden trail in the gorge

Our last hike of the day was the famed Rock Garden trail near Natural Bridge.  Massive blocks of sandstone long broken from the sheer cliffs hundreds of feet above were strewn out across a lush landscape ensconced in spring ephemerals.  

Large-flowered trillium mixed with red trillium

Closer to the gorge's wall and its steeper slopes was one of the most impressive displays of large-flowered trillium and red trillium I've ever seen.  Literally thousands of plants were densely packed in the shade of the looming cliff, a perfect mixture of snow white and vibrant maroon.

The video attached above can only give the viewer a small glimpse into the true magnitude of the mixture of trillium but it's certainly better than nothing.  Like a video I uploaded in a previous post, the quality plummets upon expanding the window's size so for the best quality keep it small.  

Reznicek's Sedge (Carex reznicekii)

Black-edge Sedge (Carex nigromarginata)

Despite the thousands of trillium blooming en masse, I managed to find myself looking at sedges again upon the discovery of one of my favorite species and another of its close relatives.  The black-edged sedge (C. nigromarginata) and recently split and described Reznicek's sedge (C. reznicekii) were both growing in the immediate vicinity of one another and allowed for a fun side-by-side comparison.

Looking up at the sandstone walls of the Red River Gorge

In the end I could have made this post twice as long with the amount of fun and interesting discoveries Dan, Joe, and I made last weekend but I think this will suffice it to say a great time was had by all.  I look forward to additional returns to the Red River Gorge's diversity and beauty at different times of the year.  It may have taken me a long time to finally experience its wonders within but it was unquestionably worth the wait.