Although I’ve recorded in many parts of the southern half of Oregon, I’ve never visited the northeastern portion. This area is known to be home to some beautiful mountain ranges and lots of wildlife. I realized after my earlier trips this spring, that I’d fallen into a rut of visiting the same places again and again. While it’s nice to revisit those places and get new recordings to compare over the years, there are still many places I haven’t recorded yet. So, I decided to get out of my rut and head somewhere that I’ve been wanting to see for a while – the Wallowa Mountains of northeastern Oregon.
I headed north on June 25th and made a brief stop at the Nature Sounds Society annual meeting where I participated on a roundtable discussion of acoustic monitoring in parks and preserves. Then I headed to the Warner Mountains in northern California for the night. The weather, cloudy and breezy, wasn’t conducive to good recording, so after a cool night, I continued north to Oregon. I camped in the northern Warner Mountains at a place I’ve recorded several times before (it’s so hard to get out of that rut!). A thunderstorm rolled in shortly after I arrived, which became a theme for the first half of trip. I stashed a recorder under the picnic table and recorded some of it, until it really started pouring and I had to recover the gear.
The next morning, I enjoyed the warmth of the sun as I drank my coffee and wrote in my journal. I also recorded the birds and squirrels as I watched puffy clouds start to form. The site is near a spring, and you can hear the gurgling water in the background. I really treasure those quiet moments in the morning.
My next stop was in the Strawberry Mountains in the center of the state. I found a nice roadside campground on a seldom-used highway. It was right next to a stream, with a lovely riparian forest of cottonwood, alder, and pine. Unfortunately, the stream was loud enough that it dominated the recordings (whoosh). The next day, I headed to Baker City, bought some supplies, and headed into the southern side of the Wallowas, under dark skies:
I followed an endless maze of old logging roads until I found a nice dispersed camping site along Eagle Creek, not far from a trailhead into the Eagle Cap Wilderness.  On the way there, I was hit by a heavy thunderstorm that turned the road into a river, providing a bit of excitement as I feverishly hoped there were no big holes or boulders hidden by the water. But I made it ok, pulled into the site and waited for the rain to stop.Â
After the rain stopped and the trees quit dripping, the sun peaked through the clouds and the hermit thrushes serenaded the evening. Even though the nearest stream was at least 100 yards away, the whoosh of the stream still dominated the soundscape. This was evident with the dawn chorus, where the few birds that were singing were hard to hear over the sound of the river. It started me wondering if birds avoid these noisy environments or adjust the pitch or call rate of their singing, as they are known to do in urban environments.
I checked my camping apps to try to find campsites away from rivers, and I was able to find one up in a saddle – another trailhead into the Eagle Cap wilderness. So, I headed for Moss Springs, following a steep, narrow road up to the campground, and was surprised to find it half occupied with large camping trailers. They must have had fun negotiating that road. The trailhead was also quite busy. I took Shadow for a quick walk around the campground (his arthritis has been bothering him more and more, so long hikes are out) and was almost eaten alive by mosquitoes. I gambled that the campground wouldn’t be too noisy overnight and set out a microphone at the edge of my campsite. It was a very quiet night, but there was a nice bird chorus at first light:
Although this spot was much better for recording, the mosquitoes drove me out. I headed for the north side of the Wallowas and opted to avoid the more popular access points around the towns of Enterprise and Joseph. I decided to check out a small campground in Bear Canyon. The campground, also a trailhead into the wilderness, was about half full including a group with very barky dogs. Shadow and I spent a lovely afternoon enjoying the sunshine and watching a large variety of butterflies and listening to the loud whoosh of Bear Creek. I took advantage of the sun to warm up my solar shower and wash my hair.
In the narrow canyon, the creek created a blanket of white noise that masked most other sounds. The dawn chorus was simple and muted, and I realized if I wanted to do much recording in the Wallowas, I needed better information about places further from streams, or needed to plan a trip into the high country (where the streams were smaller). We took a short hike up the canyon, then packed up for the trip south, which I’ll describe in part 2. The area was stunningly beautiful, but I was a little disappointed that I wasn’t able to get better recordings. I had better luck on the second half of the trip.
