Fieldtripping, July 2007

Site A
July 21, 2007. 7 p.m. 
Hottest day of the year. Hitting 100 in the shade. MarianWalkingstick, Abe Sanchez and Coletta Cole have come from the coast to gather juncus. They drive the Ortega Highway, pass through Lake Elsinore where it was 115.

So we wait until it cools, if you can call it that. We wait until the sun goes down. I drive us in my 4-wheel SUV to the riparian area. No herbicides here. The area is thick with juncus and juncus' favorite ally-poison oak. We all know to wear long-sleeved shirts, long pants, sturdy shoes, thick gloves. We're very careful at first. Pull the easy juncus near the road. But we see more great juncus down towards the stream, amidst the poison oak. So we slowly make our way into the area. As we pull, I notice we're all braver (more foolhardy) as we enter the thick poison oak stands. There are some amazingly thick poison oak vines winding their way up the sycamore trees. You'd think we were in the Amazon. Snake vines. Poison vines. Protector vines.

After awhile, no one is talking. We're all pulling juncus. Marian concentrates on the new juncus stalks with its white stems. She wants juncus for string. Coletta and Abe pull the brown juncus. They want the juncus for color. I pull some of both. This is my first time actually gathering juncus. On previous trips, I always had my camera to shoot the gathering process. This feels really good. I never understood how to tell the difference between fresh white stemmed juncus and brown juncus. Now it seems pretty obvious-the older brown-stemmed juncus is bent, lying down with age. The newer juncus is standing pert and upright. It's much easier to pull the new juncus, but with the old stems, I have to pull hard. Occasionally I break the stem. I apologize to the plant, but know it will become part of the great cosmic compost pile.

Site B
We drive back down the road to an area where all plants have been cleared 10 feet back from the road for San Diego County's "weed abatement" program. Above the cut is a stand of juncus. I pull one of the bent-over juncus stems. "Wow! What a beautiful brown." I show Marian. "Wow!" She agrees. A beautiful mahogany brown. Abe wanders back to where we're pulling. We joke that this is our claim. Abe of course ignores us, begins pulling the beautiful browns. Coletta is across the road, up in what looks like some pretty dense poison oak. Marian is worried about her, tells her to come out of there. Turns out it's a thicket of blackberry. Sometimes hard to tell the difference, plus we’re beginning to lose the light. The blackberry has little spines on the stem, but it also has that cluster of three let-it-be leaves. I wonder if this is the native blackberry or the Himalayan. Must remember to take a sample to Valerie Phillips at Las Pilitas Nursery for an identification. Of course I could look it up in my field guide, but it's more fun to talk to Valerie. Any excuse to go to the native plant nursery.

We cut off the tops of the juncus, then add the new stems to our bundles. We tie them together with the blue fabric ties Marian brought with her for just this purpose. Our juncus bundles look really nice.

Site C
July 22. 8 am. It's a bit cooler today. Overcast. We're up. Skip breakfast to get out there to gather before the sun hits hard. We drive to another site. Really dense juncus. We'll have to cross a small dry seasonal stream bed to get there. Down over rock boulders. Careful. Up a steep slope. Poison oak, as always, is everywhere. Once again, we're dressed in de rigueur gathering attire: long sleeved shirts, long pants, sturdy, thick gloves. It's a beautiful spot.

"Marian, do you want some help." Marian doesn't want to cross directly. Too steep. So she's making her way upstream.

"No. I think I'm going to gather right here. Poison oak is no match for Marian Walkingstick," Marian announces to the poison oak.

"Have you every had it," I ask her.

"No. Never."

"When I had it," I tell Marian, "I wanted to rip my skin off."

"This is incredible! This is the thickest patch I've ever seen!" Abe says. Abe, as usual when he's gathering, is all exclamation marks. "I've never seen juncus this long! I'm stepping on the ends!"

We're in juncus heaven. "Why so lush here?" I ask.

"The oaks," Abe tells us. "The particular microclimate. Most people think the best juncus grows under oak trees where the soil is so rich."

The oaks trees here are coast live oaks. Quercus agrifolia.
And poison oak. Lots of poison oak. Toxicodendron diversilobum.
The Toxicodendron diversilobum really keeps us on our toes.
We remind each other to watch out for rattlesnakes as well.

"Hey Marian. Do you want some help?"

"I don't know. Keep an eye on me."

Marian is attempting to climb over the rocks up on to the hillside where Abe, Coletta and I are gathering. I offer my usual sage advice: "Get on your butt and you’ll be safe.
Just flip your legs around."

"Mamacita! This hurts!" Marian looks up. "Do you have that thing on." Marian points to my recorder.

"Yeah, but you know I won't incriminate anyone too much."

"Watch your eyes!" I tell Marian as she makes her way up the hillside. We all have to make sure we're not stabbed by the sharp ends of the juncus.

"You're going love it, Marian," Abe tells her. "It's amazing up here!"

8 am
We've been gathering for a couple of hours, and now we're starving. We left early and didn't eat anything. So we drive back home, eat last night's leftover Julian apple pie and ice cream, guacamole, more guacamole, tortillas, drink water, more water.

We then trim the rest of the juncus, tie it into bundles . . .