Mountain-top Botanizing

 

From left: Steve Young, Bruce Gilman, Tom Phillips, Ruth Brooks, Jackie Donnelly, Katie Beeles

Does this look like a happy bunch of botanizers?  Well, why wouldn't we be happy?  We couldn't have had a more beautiful day for seeking out those plants that thrive best at high altitudes, on a field trip offered by the New York Flora Association.  And we made it all the way to the top of Whiteface Mountain, one of the highest peaks of the Adirondacks,  while having to hike only the last 1500 feet or so. 

Granted, it was kind of a steep 1500 feet, along a walkway from the parking area at the end of the Whiteface Memorial Highway (a 5-mile-long toll road) to the actual summit. But that sturdy handrail helped to assuage any traces of acrophobia.  And it also helped me lift some weight off my arthritic knee as I climbed.

But of course, we didn't exactly charge up that walkway, either.  Being plant people, we stopped every few feet or so to examine what plants were growing along the trail. Our leader, Steve Young (only recently retired as Chief Botanist for New York's Natural Heritage Program), has been monitoring the plants at this site for years, and he brought along a checklist of all the plants that have been recorded for this location. Some of those plants are exceedingly rare, as well as found only in such high-altitude locations.

It seemed hard to believe that some of the plants we observed could actually be thought of as rare, they were so abundant on this mountaintop.  This Bearberry Willow (Salix uva-ursi), for example, while rated a Threatened species in our state (and similarly rare in surrounding states), spread its sprawling branches of shiny green leaves across wide swaths of bare rock near the summit. On our visit, those branches were studded with fluffy catkins, this plant's strategy for dispersing its seeds, aided by the near-constant winds that blow across mountaintops.

Here is a typical patch of mountain greenery, easily observed by simply leaning over the iron rail along the walkway. The small, rounded, blue-green leaves are those of Bog Bilberry (Vaccinium uliginosum), a typical resident of high-elevation habitats (also called Alpine Blueberry). The lime-green, spiky, inrolled leaves atop fuzzy orange stems belong to Labrador Tea (Rhododendron groenlandicum), a common inhabitant of lower-elevation bogs that can also tolerate the rigors of mountain-top habitats.  The small conifer is Balsam Fir (Abies balsamea), displaying much shorter and rounder needles than we see on our typical Christmas trees, a morphological response by this fir to the extreme weather conditions at this height. And the broader, lighter-green leaves belong to Mountain Paper Birch (Betula cordifolia), a species of birch adapted to the very cold temperatures of high-elevation regions.

This fruiting Green Alder (Alnus alnobetula ssp. crispa) is a cold-tolerant species of alder found only in northern regions of our state. This dwarfed specimen has found its happy place in a cleft of the rock.

Not all the plants we saw are exclusive to alpine or sub-alpine habitats.  I do indeed find Bunchberry flowers (Cornus canadensis) at lower altitudes, but it is known to prefer the colder regions of our state, and it certainly looked very happy here, nestled among the leaves of Bog Bilberry. It was unusual, though, to see this flower's normally snow-white bracts tinged with pink.

Mountain Sandwort (Mononeuria groenlandica) lives up to its vernacular name by definitely preferring the rocky clefts of mountain summits, and it was beautifully in bloom on this day. I love how it grows in such pincushion-shaped clumps, so thickly covered with blooms I could hardly make out its needle-fine spiky leaves.

Here is another denizen of the dry, rocky, mountain-top habitat,  the sprawling, low-growing, woody-stemmed wildflower called Three-toothed Cinquefoil (Sibbaldia tridentata). We were lucky to visit it while it bore such abundant blooms.

The Alpine Goldenrod (Solidago leiocarpa) was just starting to open its tufts of yellow blooms. Although rated a Threatened species in New York, this goldenrod is abundant atop Whiteface Mountain.

Here was the rarest flower we found on the summit today, Boott's Rattlesnake Root (Nabalus boottii), and we were lucky to find just a few blooms beginning to open out of abundant patches of leaves. Known from only a few mountain peaks in New York and New England, Boott's Rattlesnake Root is not only classified as an Endangered species in New York State, but it is also rated as a Threatened species around the globe.  Up on this mountain top, though, you might never imagine it to be such a rare plant, considering how it thrives here.

We also found a number of rare grassy plants, including this sprightly tuft of Highland Rush  (Oreojuncus trifidus), a Threatened species in New York that is mostly restricted to high-altitude sites.  (You can gauge how high up it was growing by how far down Lake Placid appears in the distance.) It  certainly seemed very happy atop this mountain, to judge by how many clumps of it we found sprouting from bare rock. The brown tips of the leaves is a distinctive feature of this rush, even while young, not an indication that it is fading. 

This Canadian Single-spike Sedge (Carex scirpoidea ssp. scirpoides) is an even rarer plant, an Endangered species found nowhere else in New York but here on Whiteface Mountain. One would hardly be able to guess at such rarity, to judge by how many plants were thriving  up here.

Here, our friends edged quite close to precipitous cliffs in search of another prize plant that grows very near the summit of Whiteface, a nice patch of the Endangered species called Bigelow's Sedge (Carex bigelowii ssp. bigelowii). Known from only two counties in New York, this sedge can tolerate very open alpine conditions.

I'm very glad we had our sedge experts with us today, for I would have walked right by this unprepossessing patch of green stuff and never have noticed Bigelow Sedge's distinctive (and quite pretty!) green and brown spikelets.

We made it to the very top! And as this photo reveals, so did many other folks on this beautiful blue-sky day, with mild temperatures and gentle winds.  It was quite a challenge for me to guess what were all the different languages I overheard in passing. The presence of that toll road up most of the mountain, plus an elevator that can lift even disabled folks very close to the summit, contribute to Whiteface Mountain being quite a tourist attraction. I wonder how many of this summit's visitors are aware of the amazing rarity of some of the plants they pass on their way to the top.

And now we had to go down! Although Ruth and I chose to return to the parking area via the hand-railed walkway we came up on, the others in our group chose the more challenging trail down, one that required more scrambling over boulders and lowering oneself down steeper inclines than my arthritic knee could safely carry me.  I have descended by this trail several time, before I broke my kneecap, so I remember quite well its difficulties, even when I was more able-bodied.  Here, Katie bids us goodbye as she prepares to descend, while also demonstrating good trail etiquette, by staying on the rocks.

Ruth kept me company on the alternate route down, although both of us did stand at the top of the descending trail and gazed down, wondering what botanical rarities we might be missing.

Ah well, by eschewing the more difficult route, we were present when this enormous shiny black bug came winging by, dangling its orange-colored legs in a flight posture similar to that of a wasp. But neither of us had ever seen a wasp as big and fat as this. It must have measured at least an inch and a half from its head to the end of its segmented abdomen. 

When it kindly landed on a grassy stalk and turned its back to us, we could see the distinctive white patch on its thorax and take photos that might better help us obtain its ID. Thanks to cell service atop the mountain, Ruth was able to get a response from iNaturalist, informing us that our bug was most likely an Elm Sawfly (Cimbex americanus).  Sawflies are a kind of wasp, yet without the narrow "waist" nor a stinger. Since I did risk annoying this bug by nosing my camera in close, I'm glad to know I never risked being stung.

And then we climbed down.  And down and down and down and down. Even on this "easier" route, to my tired legs it seemed even longer going down than it did climbing up! But the scenic views were absolutely fantastic!

We re-connected with our friends at a picnic area below,  where we had a chance to see one of the rarest herbaceous flowers yet of our adventure, the diminutive Lesser Shinleaf (Pyrola minor), hiding well back in the woods. 

When I first met this small Pyrola some years ago, I learned that Whiteface Mountain was the only place this Endangered species was known to grow in all the state.  The New York Flora Association's plant atlas now shows it as vouchered from neighboring Hamilton County as well as Essex County, but it's still a very rare plant -- even rarer now than when I last saw it up here three years ago, in a ditch since cleared by road work. At least in this second wooded location, this rare plant seems less likely to be destroyed by human activity. I am so happy I once again got to see its distinctively globular florets, with no styles projecting beyond the florets (a feature of other Pyrola species).  One last little treat to end this amazing day of many other botanical treats!