Up a Shady River On a Muggy Afternoon

Whew!  Too darned hot!  Yes, I know, compared to the triple-digit temps other folks around the world are suffering now, the upper 90s we've sweltered through the past few days here in Saratoga are hardly worth mentioning.  But those sweltering temps were enough to send me off to the coolest outdoor spots I could think of: the tree-shaded banks of the Hudson River between the Spier Falls and Sherman Island dams.  But it wasn't simply the heat that impelled me there.  I was hoping to find the Smaller Purple Fringed Orchids I'd found there in other years, and I knew they should be blooming now. 

After launching my solo canoe, I headed upstream, toward where I'd found those orchids before.

Well, they weren't there.  No sign of them where they grew last year.  And the year before that.  And the year before that.  And the year before that.  But not this year. Orchids are like that.  Fickle.  So I turned around and headed back downstream.  A nice paddle would ease my disappointment.  The scenery sure was lovely, with forested mountains rising on both sides, and I had the river all to myself this day.  Also, a breeze had picked up. I splashed some water on my shirt so the breeze would cool me as I paddled.

Then, look what I saw as I approached the very spot I had started from: a beautiful Smaller Purple Fringed Orchid (Platanthera psycodes)!  It was growing right where I'd found it over 10 years ago and had given up looking for it there again. How could I have passed this showy flower on my way upstream and not noticed it? As I've often told myself: the return trip along a trail will reveal a whole new scene. 

As I continued downstream, I tarried close to a spot where I'd noticed some Great St. John's Worts (Hypericum ascyron ssp. pyramidatum) in bud a few weeks ago.  And sure enough, some showy big blooms were topping their tall stalks.  Great St. John's Wort is rated as a Rare species in New York State, but the shore of the Hudson River where it runs through this mountain valley is one of the places it seems to like to grow. I have found it on three other sites besides this one along the Hudson shore.

Other plants delighted me as I continued my paddle downstream.  Patches of snowy-white Grass-leaved Arrowhead (Sagittaria graminea) graced the shallows close to the banks:

Northern Pipewort (Eriocaulon aquaticum) could be found holding its button-shaped flowerheads atop skinny stems both underwater and above.  This row of them protruded above a rock:

Yellow Loosestrife (Lysimachia terrestris) is another flower that will bloom in standing shallow water.  Its flowers are such a brilliant yellow, it's easy to see how it acquired another vernacular name, that of Swamp Candles. I have often pondered its specific scientific name, terrestris, though, since this species almost always grows in or near water, not on dry land.

These chubby, bright-blue Marsh Skullcap flowers were dangling over some riverside rocks, displaying their pale dotted tongues. Scutellaria  galericulata is their scientific name. I suppose the vernacular name might have been suggested by the domed upper petal.

As I approached a stretch of riverbank where large boulders had tumbled down from the mountains above, I noticed an odd little patch of rumpled green stuff at the base of one boulder, half in and half out of the water.

A closer look revealed the look of a lichen to this green stuff, and I remembered seeing it before.  It was Dermatocarpon luridum, otherwise known by several other names, among them Streambed Stippleback Lichen.  That vernacular name acknowledges this lichen's propensity for growing right at the waterline, where it frequently gets washed by waves or rising water. When not wetted, the leaves lose their green color and look like dark gray crumbly stuff.

I continued paddling along this bouldered shore, marveling at how huge were some of the chunks of mountainside rocks.

Many interesting plants had made their homes among the cracks and ledges of these boulders.  To me, the prettiest of all were the tiny pink flowers and lacy green leaves of Herb Robert (Geranium robertianum), looking so truly at home on what looks like barren rock.

At this point I pondered whether to continue for more than a mile downstream to a section of riverbank where I had found other specimens of Smaller Purple Orchids.  But the breeze had now become a stiff wind, and although it would help to propel me further downstream now, I knew I'd be fighting both the wind and the current when it was time to return.  So I saved that part of the river for the following day.

A pair of Black Ducks came swimming by, as if to say good-bye.  Now they truly had the river all to themselves.

The following day was just as hot, if not more so.  But the section of the Hudson I planned to paddle was even more tree-shaded than where I had paddled the day before.  There is no official boat launch site here, though, so I had to carry my canoe along a dirt road and then down a hill through the woods to the place I consider my personal paddler's Paradise, where the river runs back behind a large island and in and out of serene little coves.  All that cool green shade, mossy banks, and quiet water make it well worth the effort to get here. (It sure helps to have a canoe that weighs less than my cat!)

In this section of the river, closer to the Sherman Island Dam, the shoreline is convoluted with craggy, deeply eroded bedrock and overhung with trees and shrubs and ferns.

I promptly paddled to one little cove where I had found Smaller Purple Fringed Orchids for several years in a row.  Would they be blooming again this year? My hopes were high.

And my hopes were not dashed!  Hurray!  Two gorgeous specimens shared their bank with Royal Fern and Tall Meadow Rue, but their vivid purple blooms stood out among all that green foliage. I espied them the moment I entered their cove.

Another flower with vivid blooms shared that cove with the orchids.  This is the magnificent Cardinal Flower (Lobelia cardinalis), blazing forth from its Hemlock shaded bank.  I had seen many other plants along the way, but they were just in bud.  Well, this was indeed my lucky day for beautiful floral finds!

More spectacular floral gorgeousness awaited in another cove.  Here, the long purple spikes of Pickerelweed (Pontederia cordata) were perfectly reflected in the dark quiet water.

In another small cove where sunbeams penetrated the tree canopy, the sunlight illuminated patches of Northern Pipewort blooming away under shallow water.  The plants' leaves glowed a lovely green and gold, topped by white-dotted stems that swayed with the river's current.  In this catchment between two dams, the water levels rise and fall with dam operations, sometimes completely submerging tolerant plants like these that are normally emergent, but not exclusively aquatic.

  

Here's just a sampling of some of the many other pretty riverside flowers I saw.  This rosy spike of Steeplebush flowers (Spiraea tomentosa) was visited by a small pollen-eating hoverfly.      

Dozens and dozens of glossy-green American Wintergreen plants (Gaultheria procumbens) covered a sloping bank, each plant dangling multiple snowy-white bells.

I encountered a patch of Marsh St. John's Worts (Hypericum virginicum) at just the right hour of the afternoon to catch its pretty pink flowers newly open.  Don't bother to go looking for this wetland species before three o'clock in the afternoon.

It was definitely well after three o'clock in the afternoon by now, time for me to paddle back to my put-in place and the carry back to my car. Rather than amble slowly along close to shore,  I headed straight up the open river, pushing energetically against both the wind and the current.  Little waves slapped against the side of my boat, sending cooling droplets on me that the breeze helped to dry as it wafted my own personal heat away.  Surrounded by the cooling colors of blues and greens, I felt refreshed on this otherwise stifling hot day, as well as deeply grateful to live amid such natural beauty so close to my home.