Blue Lake

November 26, 2023

Baseball bat!

I’m awakened early this morning by a dream, the same one that’s broken my sleep for three nights running now. Rachael and I are walking down a wooded path through a narrow gap that has the feeling of an abandoned train line. Our path ahead is blocked for the moment though by two dogs lying in the center of it - large jet black lupine animals staring menacingly at us as they growl and gnaw on what looks like the bones of a carcass.

We have to get through though for some reason so we cautiously advance, Rachael walking behind me as I start talking the dogs down with a calm but assertive voice. There’s a reaction from them - they stir, look like they might back off, but nothing more. A firmer approach is needed apparently.

“Baseball bat!” I instruct Rachael, much as a surgeon might call for a scalpel. Not taking my eyes off of the animals ahead, I reach my left arm back behind me and grasp the wooden bat Rachael hands forward. I cock it high above my right shoulder, speak more loudly, take a few swings to make clear my intent to be the master here, and we start advancing as they finally begin to back off slightly.

I wake up before the situation resolves and we move on, just as I have each of the last two nights. Interpretations? Should we call off our upcoming trip south? Leave the country? Buy a condo, lock ourselves inside where it’s safe and subsist on Masterpiece Theater episodes and UberEats deliveries?

Today’s ride

The spell of stunning late autumn days continues, and our plans for the day are much the same as yesterday’s. Rachael starts off the day with another trip over to the nearby LA Fitness to participate in their morning cycle class again, and in the afternoon she takes another short walk (only six miles today!) up into the west hills, following nearly the same route she took yesterday until cutting it short when she started encountering frost still on the sidewalks and turned back, not wanting to risk a fall. Smart! We don’t want a repeat of my sister Elizabeth’s experience in her first winter here, when she slipped on the ice walking down from Pittock Mansion and broke her wrist.

For myself, I’m heading north to the river with the bike in the car, happy to find that yesterday’s short ride hasn’t resulted in a worsening of my congestion again. My ride plan is to leave the car at Broughton Beach again like I did yesterday, but bike east this time on a 20 mile out and back to Company Lake, a place I’ve never seen or even heard of before until I saw it listed as a local birding hotspot on eBird.

It figures to be an elemental ride, with a high of about 47F/8C, full sun when I’m not sheltered from it, and a chilling 10 mph wind blowing west from the gorge. I’m dressed for it though, wearing blue jeans, a Pendleton and a parka when I set out.

Conditions are stunning as I bike east atop the berm along the Marine Drive bike path, stopping over and over again for another shot of magnificent Mount Hood above the still golden cottonwoods on Government Island. I don’t see many birds at first, but I’m hopeful as always.

Just another glaucous-winged gull, or maybe a herring gull. seen from this distance and perspective it could be either.

I don’t get far though before I see a small raft of birds out in the middle of the river. One of the scaups I’m thinking, because they’re the rafters we’ve commonly seen out here in the winter. I’m wrong though, as I’ll find when I check the photos later. They’re common goldeneyes, a bird I’m excited to see when I come across a few closer in so that I can get a good look because I think they’re a first for the year. And I get many good looks, because I’ll keep passing them as I bike upriver and then again on the way back. Over and over again I stop to look at some birds on the water, and over and over again they turn out to be more goldeneyes. I’m pretty sure I end up seeing a couple hundred of them. And I suspect they’re new just in the last few days, and possibly just passing through on their migration south from the north slope. They’re a late migrant, not leaving for the south until the lakes further north freeze over.

And I’m wrong about something else about them, as I’ll also discover when I’m back home. They’re not a new bird - I saw one early last spring near Napa on our drive north. Still great though, and much greater numbers than I saw then.

A pair of common goldeneyes. They’re very similar to Barrow’s goldeneye, which we’ll also see here in the winter. You can tell them apart by their white eyespot - on the golden it’s circular, and on the Barrow’s it’s a paisley shape with the point curving up the front of his face.

Goldeneyes are hard to get a good photo of because they spend about ninety percent of the time under water. By the time I’ve located and focused on that small white spot out in the river, he’s going under again. Several of my efforts looked like this.

After seeing a few hundred of them, I see that they cluster in small groups, from singles or couples to ones of a dozen or more like this one.

Further on, there’s another bird surprise at the end of the bike path just before McGuire Point Marina - another quite large concentration of birds, maybe as much as a couple hundred. And zooming in, I see they’re nearly all common mergansers, the same bird I saw in large numbers at Oaks Bottom last week.

The surprise is the realization that it’s not unusual to see them concentrated like this, as I thought back at Oaks Bottom. It’s apparently normal wintering behavior for them. I’ve just never noticed before, or maybe just not been around at the right season to observe it. It’s another reminder of how much we overlook by not really paying attention.

I’d planned to bike east to Company Lake, but it gradually sinks in that that’s not happening today. For one thing, as often happens here the wind blows stronger the further east I go, and by the time I near Blue Lake it’s up to at least 15 mph, and cold. It’s blowing hard enough that there are small whitecaps blowing on the river, confusing me into thinking some of them might be birds.

The other issue though has taken awhile to sink in - it’s too far. I spaced out when drawing my route for today’s ride and started it at a point about six miles east of where I parked the car. I’ve been puzzling over this for awhile, thinking I had an issue with the GPS. So I’m really looking at over a thirty mile ride, which is too far for the conditions or the available daylight. I decide to shorten it near here, by making a loop through Blue Lake Regional Park and then turning back.

I’d been planning to pass through Blue Lake anyway - it was on my drawn route - but when I get there I see that the entire park is shut down and barricaded, with construction equipment scattered around and signs saying it’s closed until late spring for a major renovation project. It’s Sunday though so there’s no construction activity underway today, and it’s easy enough to pass beneath the barricade at the main entrance with my bike so I do so. I want to get down for a look at the large, natural lake to see all the waterfowl that are probably bobbing around on it.

But they aren’t. I see exactly one gull, one cormorant, and two mallards, but that’s it. I think it’s because it’s so windy now. I content myself with walking along the lakefront for a ways and then move on.

This is new. They’ve opened up a new section of the bike trail near Blue Lake, so it’s another stretch where you can avoid busy Marine Drive.

No birds on Blue Lake today, despite what the surface looks like at first. Those dark spots are lily pads.

This secluded beech grove is one of the prettiest spots in the park.

I was a little anxious taking this shot, because the tree is noticeably groaning from the strong wind. It doesn’t seem like a wise spot to stand too long.

The ride back is the same as I came out. Nothing much has changed but the lighting - the sun’s low enough that most of the time now I’m in the shadow of the upper part of the berm. I’ve got a strong tailwind propelling me now, but without the sun I’m actually colder and anxious to get back to the car. There are still reasons to stop though, including the bird activity. Toward the end of the ride a cloud of about twenty small birds rises up to my side and swirls away too quickly for any kind of look - except for one bird, who circles around and lands on a small rock by the water. He stays put long enough for me to get off a shot and then he too flies off.

Its enough. When I get back and do the research I see it’s an American pipit, another bird of the far north that we only see them down here in the winter. I’m sure this is the first time I’ve ever knowingly seen a pipit, so it’s not just a new addition to the year’s list - he’s a lifetime first for me.

Looking upriver through the narrow gap between Government and McGuire Islands.

Another short-billed gull, one of several kiting above the river. I’m getting faster at recognizing them now - they really look more like terns than what I think of as gulls.

Not sure what’s going on here, but it seemed worth stopping for a shot.

Killdeer! I saw him flying offshore, moving too quickly to get a good enough look to identify him. Nice that he circled back and alit on the bike path just in front of me.

What an exceptional autumn this has turned into here! One stunning day after another.

To celebrate my new bird (that’s a lie - we made this reservation several days ago and I’ve been hurrying back to be in time for a shower first), we drive down to Eleni’s for a Greek meal, and our last dinner out together before heading south. Afterwards as we’re driving back Rachael looks up and reports that the moon looks full, which reminds me that I read an article about it and was planning to get out for a shot. Once we’re home I head upstairs to grab the camera and then step into the street for a quick shot before hurrying back inside again.

Grilled branzino, with outstanding sides. A great dish - we should try to make it back here in February.

Grilled stifatho, and the same sides. Also excellent.

The Beaver Moon. It won’t be full for a few more hours yet, but this is close enough.

A composite of yesterday’s ride (red) and today’s.

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Today’s take (15): Rock dove, American crow, double-crested cormorant, glaucous-winged gull, golden-crowned sparrow, Canada goose, common goldeneye, common merganser, California gull, great blue heron, little egret, mallard, short-billed gull, killdeer, American pipit.

Today's ride: 20 miles (32 km)
Total: 37 miles (60 km)

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Bruce LellmanAs disturbing as your dream was it still doesn't compare to my Burmese puppet, a stationary object in my living room, suddenly lunging forward to fall face first on the very morning we were to fly to Saigon. I still don't know how he defied gravity like that.

Good find with the American pipit.
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1 year ago

Gregory GarceauI know it was a dream, but I still found it funny that Rocky just happened to be carrying a baseball bat while hiking in the woods.
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Gregory GarceauThat Rocky. Ready for anything!
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1 year ago

Bob DistelbergWell, I think the dogs represent the various challenges you’ve faced of late. You of course face them calmly but firmly moving forward, coming out swinging so to speak. Rocky was there to support you. The dream ended before the situation was resolved because, of course, challenges in life are always ongoing. Wow, that Intro Psych course I took 40+ years ago is really useful.
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1 year ago

Scott AndersonTo Bob DistelbergHey, good news! Thanks for the consultation, Doc. I guess we’ll continue on our path after all.
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1 year ago