It was nice to see the allotment after a few weeks away. Fortunately a friend had attended to the watering otherwise it would have been bone dry. The runner beans have plenty of flowers (and bees) on them so hopefully they will crop well in the weeks ahead.

 A few of the allotments are neglected or vacant and there's something to be said for that because they have some of the loveliest flowers. If these Globe Artichokes had been eaten they wouldn't be bursting out in their extraordinary purple plumage.

 The neighbouring allotment is lovingly tended and resplendent with beautiful flowers throughout the summer. They grow many (though not all) of the species on it for dyeing fabrics using traditional methods.
 This is Elecampane (Inula helenium): tall, broad of leaf and very yellow blooms. Introduced to these shores by the Anglo-Saxons or perhaps even earlier by the Celts it has ancient associations with the mystical and medicinal. As far as I know Elecampane isn't a dye plant but it's certainly very striking.

 London proved to be almost as hot and dry as California when I returned. The garden is looking baked but some of the plants like it hot including these cultivars of Lavendula and Agastache. The essential oils of both are irresistible to bees.
 Lavender has another benefit besides nectar. Honey bees and their hives have become increasingly prone in the past few decades to infestations by the verroa mite (also known as the verroa destructor which indicates just how bad it is). Research indicates that these mites can be repelled and killed by certain essential oils including those of Lavendula.      

 Northern California and South London are worlds apart in all kinds of ways but I encountered some intriguing botanical connections. Above are two plants from the Aconitum genus commonly known as Monkshood.
 The first is Aconitum columbianum which I saw a lot of growing by streams in the meadows of Mount Eddy and is native to western North America. The second is Aconitum napellus growing in my back garden; native to continental Europe, possibly native to the UK, certainly naturalized here and well-known as a garden plant. (NB Worth bearing in mind that all Monkshoods are extremely poisonous, see my recent entry on 29th. June)
 Plant families spread across continents and pre-date the separation of continents so what is basically the same plant has evolved with some variations now separated by oceans and huge distances.

 And here is a humble little beauty: Self-heal (Prunella vulgaris). Native to both North America and Europe (not to mention Asia), I see it everywhere. In the first photo it is growing out of a crack in a paving stone at the end of my road; in the second it is growing in a mountain meadow in California.
 The Cherokee ate it, the Chinese use extracts for medicine, in the 16th. century the English herbalist John Gerard wrote "there is not a better wounde herbe in the world" when the leaves are applied to the skin.
 Old school gardening books advise you to eradicate Self-heal from your lawn lest weeds cast a blight on suburbia. But resistance is futile, Self-heal is indestructible: the meek shall inherit the Earth.

 The California Pitcher Plant is a wonder to behold. Darlingtonia californica is the one and only member of the genus Darlingtonia. As the name suggests it is native to California though in fact it grows in Oregon too. The Klamath-Siskiou region is its stronghold, particularly the slopes of Mount Eddy. It favours bogs, seeps, wet meadows. And... it's carnivorous.
 I was on a mission to find this plant as it seemed to symbolize the unique habitat of the area I had chosen to hike in. My first sighting was a few dozen of them growing alongside a stream that crossed the PCT. In the environs of Mount Eddy there were spectacular stands of D. californica growing en masse.
 The meadow in the photograph above (with Mount Shasta on the horizon) looks at first sight to be dotted with flowers but on closer inspection it is a teeming stand of Pitcher Plants...

 D. californica is one of those plants that can be considered a rarity but which grows abundantly in its niche habitat. This photo gives a sense of just how prolific it can be where it finds the right conditions. Interestingly it remains a mystery how the plant is pollinated but clearly it multiplies considerably.
 I know very little about carnivorous plants but as I understand it they compensate for lack of nitrogen in the soil by luring flies into them with a rancid smell. The flies become trapped by the fibrous hairs within the body of the plant and are dissolved by enzymes.
 Besides the resemblance to a pitcher D. californica has another common name: Cobra Lily.

  

 Castle Crags State Park where I started my hike is noted for its spring wildflowers but by the summer months conditions are far too dry for anything other than evergreen scrub and canopy. I knew I would have to backpack up into the alpine elevations of the wilderness area beyond to reach the mountain meadows of Mount Eddy still lush from the melted snow- a trek from around two thousand feet above sea level to over seven thousand.
 At about five or six thousand feet the landscape was still parched but I started to spot the first flowers. Indian Paintbrush (above) was common from then on. Actually this is a catch all common name for the fiery red Castilleja species of which there are many variations which all look rather similar. I might revisit these entries at a later date to brush up on the botany but I'll stick with the basics for now.

 A bit further and higher these yellow lupines became a regular feature. Last year when I visited Crater Lake lupines were also very common but always in shades of magenta, blue and purple. The ones above are Lupinus croceus which in fact is also known as Mount Eddy Lupine.
 Eddy and Castle Crags are part of the vast territory referred to as Klamath-Siskiyou which encompasses a large chunk of northern California and southern Oregon, home to over 3,500 plant species including many endemics and neoendemics.

 Another common one- Scarlet Gilia (Ipomopsis aggregata). NB Many of these are new to me and I am relying on an excellent field guide "Wildflowers of the Pacific Northwest" published by Timber Press. Happy to be corrected if I am mistaken in any of my identifications!

 Water is the key. Where creeks flowed (or had flowed till recently) there were fertile corridors of green. For example Rosy Spirea (Spirea splendens) flourishes along these stretches of moist soil.

 Some plants like their feet right by or in the water e.g. Streambank Arnica (Arnica amplexicaulis).

 Where Arnica grew there would also be this American variety of Monkshood (Aconitum columbianum) nearby. I saw this same combination in Crater Lake so clearly they both favour the same conditions.

 On the slopes of Mount Eddy these creeks and streams create verdant mountain meadows (about seven thousand feet above sea level) each with their own character. For example this one is dotted with the white flowers of Western Bistort (Polygonum bistortoides) and the exquisite Red Columbine (Aquilegia formosa).
 The Bistort needs a lot of moisture but the Columbine seems to be something of a generalist at this elevation, it pops up all over the place.

 This meadow was only a short walk away from the one above but it is speckled by the pinkish-red flowers of a different plant altogether. Perhaps you are wondering what it is? So am I!

 These meadows are characterized by their tapestries of low growing wildflowers varying in height from a few inches to a few feet. These little Asters for example (not sure what kind they are) are common to many of the grassy areas I saw.

 There are a few taller species however. I'm always a bit wary about misidentifying umbellifers because they include the Hemlocks but I'm thinking this might be Angelica arguta. Magnifying the photo it appears to have serrated leaves and A. arguta is known as Sharptooth Angelica so maybe I'm on the right lines here.

 To my mind the special atmosphere of these meadows has a lot to do with their intimate scale nestled as they are among the vastness that surrounds them. Mountains and rocks are eternal, the forces that shape them are colossal, trees are ancient but every year these flowers bloom briefly for their season.

 
 And like all meadows the flowers of Mount Eddy create enchanting combinations of form and colour.
 I will dedicate my next entry to one plant in particular, which flourishes here like nowhere else: the carnivorous California Pitcher Plant (though fortunately it eats flies rather than hikers). It's a plant I particularly wanted to find and Mount Eddy did not disappoint... 

 Some men went to California in search of gold. I went in search of wildflowers and on the slopes of Mount Eddy I hit the mother lode. But first I had to get there...

 I spent several days in San Francisco then boarded the overnight Amtrak to Dunsmuir in Northern California. The Coast Starlight runs between Los Angeles and Seattle with one train a day in each direction; other than that the line is given over to enormous freight trains that clank and hoot along the tracks. I arrived at dawn on July 7th.
 Dunsmuir is a small town in the woods and the forest extends right down to the railroad yard. What I first thought was a misty morning proved to be smoke. I asked around and was told that a huge wildfire was burning 50 or 60 miles to the north.
 I must admit that I looked up at the trees and mountains with awe and some trepidation.

 I needed to get 6 miles south to where I could pick up the Pacific Crest Trail where it runs through the Castle Crags State Park into the wilderness area beyond. It's a difficult spot to reach on foot from Dunsmuir but there is one taxi firm in the area (Shasta Shuttles) so I left a message at 6am to see if I could get a ride. I found a place to sit down by the Post Office resigned to a long wait.
 After about 25 minutes a pick up truck pulled up and the driver hailed me. It was Artie the owner of the firm who got my message at home and set off in his truck to see if he could find me!
 He dropped me off at Amiretti's Market near the trail. I had a chat with the proprietor when he opened up the store. He arrived on a mini-tractor; had he been on a horse he could have been a figure from the Old West. Then I started walking...

 As mentioned in my previous entry the first day was spent skirting around the towering granite spires of the Crags.

 The PCT is generally no wider than a footpath, albeit one that runs from Mexico to Canada. This is one of the gentler gradients; basically I had to backpack uphill for 40 miles going from around 2000 feet above sea level to over 7000. Temperatures were hitting the high thirties, I had to carry food for the week and water was in short supply along the trail. In fact several thru hikers said they were finding it tougher than the desert stages of the PCT which are flatter and they tackle in spring.
 I chatted to a number of these hikers along the way. Great people- I guess anyone who decides to walk a couple of thousand miles must have spirit and strong character.
 Sometimes the trail passed through shady pine and redwood but much of it was exposed to the baking sun. I remember this spot because Mount Shasta is straight ahead on the horizon and a beautiful cool breeze was blowing straight off its snow capped peak!

 My trusty tent was the roof over my head at night.

 This dried up creek gives a good idea of the water situation. A stupendous amount of water must flow after winter to move these very large granite boulders but by summer it's gone. I had to go some way up these rocks to find a trickle of water to refill my bottles.

 The trail was mostly distinct enough to follow without too much difficulty and the occasional signpost helps! Navigating any distance off trail would require a compass or GPS. It's a vast, uninhabited territory and it would be easy to get disorientated.

 As I reached the higher elevations I began to spot a number of lakes scattered around the landscape. This reassured me that there would be water to drink and where there's water there's wildflowers.

 On the third day I reached Deadfall Lake at the foot of Mount Eddy. Here I based myself for several days meaning I could explore the surrounding area without having to lug my pack.
 I pitched right by the lake and it was truly an idyll. I was woken in the morning by the wings of hummingbirds (of which there were many) and I was lulled to sleep at night by the sound of fish flip-flopping in the water.

 There are other smaller lakes higher than Deadfall Lake all fed in spring by the snow melt of Mount Eddy, seen rising above in the background of this photo.

 The flow of this water creates verdant mountain meadows. These alpine areas are particularly flowery in the summer months because the flowers have a very short period to do their thing. The time between the snow melting and the creeks drying up then snow again is relatively short.

 And sure enough Mount Eddy lived up to its promise of wildflowers in profusion. I will write several more entries (at least!) in the days and weeks ahead detailing some of the beauties I spotted...  

 I'm back! I started my travels on the streets of San Francisco...

Then I headed to Castle Crags in Northern California and hiked a section of the Pacific Crest Trail. The Crags are huge granite outcrops. The trail skirts around them and they loomed overhead throughout the first day of the walk...

Every step of the way magnificent vistas were all around...

Once I had cleared the Crags the vistas looking north were often dominated by the mighty Mount Shasta (where I hiked a couple of years ago)...

I backpacked 40 miles (uphill!) over the course of three days and reached my destination- Deadfall Lake, from where I could explore the slopes of Mount Eddy which are noted for their abundance of wildflowers. I pitched right by the lake and I can confirm that Heaven is a place on Earth. Apart from a few hikers passing through I had the lake and several mountains pretty much to myself.

 Deadfall Lake is shallow, crystal clear and pure snow-melt. A preliminary paddle told me that the waters were a perfect temperature, not too cold and not too warm. After three parched and dusty days on the trail I went for a swim and it was glorious.

 More to follow... 

 Dear reader, I'm packing the diary in my rucksack while I hit the trail so there will be no entries for several weeks. Today I fly to San Fransisco to catch up with some good people in the Bay Area then I'll continue my explorations of the Pacific North-West.
 In 2016 I headed for Mount Shasta in northern California (top photo) for some hiking and camping where the tree line meets the snowline. I wasn't keeping this diary then but there is an entry 21st. June last year concerning the extraordinary Panther Meadows, an alpine flower meadow on the slopes of Shasta.
 In 2017 I pitched my tent near Crater Lake (second photo) in southern Oregon- there are numerous entries last August about this trip.
 This year I'm heading to NorCal again but south of Shasta, to Castle Crags. I'll be back later in the month with some tales from the trails...    

 I'm parched. I don't mean I need a beer. Actually I do need a beer but that's not what I mean. We're in a drought. I haven't seen any official figures but this is the driest I've known the garden in the eight years I've been living here. I'm thinking this must be the longest, hottest spell we've had for decades?
 Beyond going round with a watering can (pots mainly) the garden is left to its own devices, so it's looking decidedly scrubby, scrappy and mottled. All the plants should tough it out though and recover in the year ahead. These species exist in the wild and see all kinds of weather be it drought, downpour, sub-zero or blazing hot.