The vast majority of the midden is shells of sea creatures, discarded after the tasty parts had been eaten.
The midden also disgorges the occasional stone tool, bone needle, or other artifact. Mike makes a point of checking the shore and the edge of the midden after winter storms.
When the salmon return from the sea, they swim and jump into this holding pool. Here the staff extract the eggs and sperm from the salmon for raising the next generation.
At Glenwood Springs Hatchery the growing salmon (and some trout) inhabit outdoor ponds, where they lead much more natural lives than they would in an indoor holding tank. There are bugs to eat (with food supplements as needed), and predators, such as osprey or raccoons, to avoid. This picture is of one corner of a pond. When the time comes to release the fish, the wheel in the photo is hand-cranked to drain the pond, and the fish soon realize that it is time to go.
Our next stop was the main building of the hatchery. Mike is bringing out a bucket of fish food for an adjacent pond.
The fish are eager for the chow.
There is art everywhere in the Pacific Northwest, and the entryway to the hatchery is not an exception.
The hatchery has an unusual origin. In short, the founder wondered if a brand-new chinook (or king) salmon run could be established by growing and releasing chinook in a watershed that had no salmon. It worked!
The building's interior has a gravel floor, because there's a lot of water splashed around when working with salmon.
Another corner of the building.
Mike explained the several kinds of equipment and the phase of raising salmon that requires each one.
All hatchery salmon are marked by clipping their adipose fin, which allows the fishermen who catch them years later to distinguish between wild and hatchery fish. Most interestingly, 15% to 20% of the salmon are injected with a coded wire tag. This allows the hatchery to determine where its fish are being caught, how much they contribute to sport and commercial fishery, and what the approximate survival rate of their salmon is. The work is all done by hand, so there are seasonal surges of labor at the hatchery followed by quieter times.
From the hatchery we drove over to Moran State Park.
We had a short break at a camping and picnic area. One of the first things we saw was a "tree cookie," a cross-section of a tree that was very old when it died.
The three markers on the tree cookie show its size when the Pilgrims landed at Plymouth Rock (1620), when George Washington was born (1732), and when Moran State Park was dedicated (1921).
Then we drove to the trailhead to see a living old-growth tree, which Melissa called "Big Bertha." This photo is looking back at a bridge on the road after we've started our gentle downhill walk to Big Bertha.
We were not alone on the trail.
It's impossible to fit all of Big Bertha into one photo.
To visualize Bertha's girth, Melissa had us form a human chain, reaching out at arm's length to the next person, encircling Big Bertha. Then we recreated the chain in open air to realize just how big she was. Being a part of the chain, I have no photo of it, but here Candy serves as a smiling model to provide scale.
After leaving Big Bertha, we returned to the road and then to the picnic ground for lunch. At the end of our repast, preparing to board the bus, we saw a young American Dipper. This is the bird that forages by walking underwater, snatching the small creatures that live on the stream bottom. This one was too young to be scared of us, as long as we didn't get too close. It is plump, so it may have left the nest only recently.
Then those who were interested were driven to the trailhead for a hike on the west bank of Mountain Lake. The trail was broad and easy to follow. We were wide-eyed at these emerging saprophytic plants, commonly called "candy stripe" or "candy stick."
Saprophytic plants have no chlorophyll, so they cannot photosynthesize; their food is decaying organic matter. These candy sticks extract their nutrients through a symbiotic relationship with fungi in the soil.
In places the trail was very close to the lake.
Mountain Lake is long and narrow; this is a view from near the northern end.
Our turnaround point was a grove of cedars just beyond the tip of the lake. The trail went on ...
We paused and sat there for a few minutes, absorbing the sights and smells.
Now, in retrospect, I wish I had taken several side-by-side vertical/portrait photos, so that I could stitch them into a forest panorama.
Our return walk and the evening's dinner completed an excellent day. Melissa promised us a surprise for tomorrow morning, creating some suspense.
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