Goats in the Gap: Wildlife

We'd heard that there were goats in the gap. I recall when skiing on the Frying Pan glacier, decades ago, a whole herd of goats crossed the gap and played in our tracks. I was eager to see them there again, white on white, sure-footed friends. However, I saw no goats in Ohanapecosh Park, Panhandle Gap, nor Summerland. Perhaps it was because we went through that area on a lovely Saturday, where hundreds of day hikers and tourists were making their way up the Summerland trail as we descended the gap to Summerland camp. Goats, overall on this Wonderland journey, for me, stayed rather elusive. I saw hoof prints in the mud at Aurora Lake. I saw signs of them on a scramble above Mystic Lake, fluffs of white fur on the edges of evergreens, stuck to the pitch and the bristles of needles. While admiring the alpine glow from Aurora Lake, a fellow camper pointed out a lone big billy goat ambling on the flanks of Aurora Peak. We alternated watching the goat and the glow. So the next morning, when I went scrambling up Aurora Peak with Jaal, seeing fur on nearly every veggie belay, I started singing. "Billy! Billy don't you loose my number! Cause you're not anywhere, that I can find you." It was silly, but I really didn't want to see an angry old billy goat come around the corner. 

At Sunrise, everyone asked if we'd seen any wildlife. My response was, "Of course! Birds, butterflies, insects, frogs!" I smiled. There were so many creatures to catch my eye. A ranger with a butterfly net caught my eye too, and I stopped her to ask her some questions. I had photographed a few and wanted to know more. 

Me: "What is the blue butterfly?" 

Ranger: "Well, the very technical scientific name for them is Blues! Although there are a few species." (later I looked up the genus: Lycaeides)

Me: "The yellow one, here?" I showed her a photo. 

Ranger: "Likely a sulphur" (Colias occidentalis)

I showed her photos of the orange checkerspot, and a heart shaped black and white moth, whose name I've forgotten. As we parted she said, "Someone today asked if there were any butterflies out here, noting they hadn't seen any." "They are EVERYWHERE!," we smiled in unison. 

Orange Checkerspot

unknown (to me) Black and White Moth

A bevy of blue butterflies (say that ten times fast!)

Mayflies were magic like fairies. They danced in the wet meadows, back-lit by morning sunlight. They sparkled in the mist of the Spray Falls. They delighted me. 

But not all insects were pretty; some were downright persistent pests. The flies were likely the worse, deer flies pestering more than biting black, as they were slow and could be swatted if you had your hands free. I think bugs in general were the worst uphill from Nickel Creek. In a desperate move, to keep moving, I pulled my bug jacket out of the top of my pack and threw it on. I'm advocating for the invention of an over-the-pack-bug-poncho. But I like to say it isn't summer, unless there are few summer scars. Even if they are from bug bites, itched raw to bleeding. Buggers. 

Mama and cubs, Carbon River, photo by Jimmy Williams, NC

We heard there were bears at this camp, and that camp. Ten days in, I still hadn't seen any sign of them. I met a ten year old girl along Moraine Creek and the Carbon River glacier, who practically jumped out of her backpack to tell me a story of the mama bear and cubs she just witnessed crossing the suspension bridge. Fellow hiker Jimmy Williams was there too, and captured this photo. Later he wrote, "I wish I would have gotten her running across the suspension bridge, but grabbing my pack and getting off the trail was first priority."

Then, sure enough, day ten, I'm hauling up a steep climb from South Mowich River, keeping a good pace and crushing my time goal. I was feeling great. I reached the ridge and was rewarded with rustling in the berry bushes. I froze as she stood on her hind legs, looked me straight in the eye, and then settled back down. I had raised my poles above my head and told her loudly "I see you. I won't harm you. You won't harm me!". Then, I grabbed my camera and watched. I could see her big collar, and then her cubs. They crossed the trail, checking me out. A fellow hiker watching from the other direction, and he thought my pole raising was a signal to him. When I did catch his eye, I made other gestures, that in retelling to Jaal at camp, seemed silly and moose like. Regardless, we were all safe and I had my bear sighting. 

Mama Bear

Cub on the trail

Curious Cub

Mighty mammals make for fine wildlife stories. I think that's what all those Sunrise tourists were asking me about. Then, leaving Sunrise parking lot, we watched a deer and fawn. I heard the peep of pikas, mostly in the scree fields while hiking or at the pit toilet of Cataract Valley camp. They were hard to photograph, so small, and gray, round like rocks. A Douglas Squirrel practically posed for me leaving Cataract. Marmots seem to do the same, perched on rocks in alpine meadows. At Summerland I watched a few nibbling wildflowers in lovely light. 

Oh Deer! 

This Douglas Squirrel is a fungi.

Mmmm. mmm. mmm. Marmot

Finally, I'm a fan of frogs. Alpine lakes were teaming with tadpoles. The tarn at 6000' above Mystic Lake had moving moss--I've never seen so many tiny frogs in my life, the ground was hoping! I was grateful these amphibians shared their swimming holes. 

teeny tiny frog

Jaal and the frog

Frog in Golden Lake.