Tag Archives: Parks

Mount St. Helens – Meta Lake at the eruption

If you’re reading this blog for the first time, it’s because I shamelessly added your name after a personal contact with you. I’ve published these art posts about once a week for years, showing new work, paintings, park projects and such. You can unsubscribe at any time by telling me in a reply.

Here is another bit of art for wayside panels recently completed for Mount St. Helens. If you click on it, the image should enlarge in your browser.

This shows Meta Lake, northeast side of the volcano near Portland, Oregon in May 1980 just as the blast cloud is approaching (you can see it over the treetops). In a few seconds, almost all nature here will be obliterated and, as you can see in the upper right panel photo, this old-growth forest will be reduced to ruin. But the mice and toads below the snow (shown in the insets) will survive, and in a few months begin to colonize this area again.

Imagining what this was like at that moment was fun. Would there have been snow in the trees? How much snow would there have been on the lake ice in May? What would the blast cloud have looked like at this point a few miles from the volcano? What do mice look like sleeping in their winter dens? How bent over would the little shrubs be beneath the snow? It seems amazingly easy to paint gallery canvases after doing this stuff. It’s the same paint getting splashed on the same canvas, but if it’s for me and not a park, no one tells me what to paint and I really don’t care if anyone likes it or not. That’s satisfying, sure – but this is challenging because I learn something new with each painting. Thanks for SeaReach for contracting me for this, and Becky at Mt St Helens for her skillful word-crafting. If was a fun project.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Fort Townsend Old-growth mural – almost in our backyard

 

 

(Lots going on in this sketch – this should enlarge if you click on it)

((Sorry to say, but my server has been playing some evil tricks with me. Hopefully the blog is back in business.))

I paint this stuff all over the country, from Alaska to the Great Smoky Mountains, but very rarely have I been able to accept a large mural commission within a mile or so of our home. Here’s the sketch almost ready for painting – and it’ll be fun for me.

Fort Townsend is an old army barracks that supposedly protected Port Townsend about 150 years ago. In reality, the town protected the fort, and so as time went on the property fell into the hands of the Washington State Parks – and now it’s one of the rarest lowland old-growth forests in Puget Sound. It’s dry country here 40 miles northwest of Seattle (yes, it’s true) and with only 18″ of rain annually, the trees don’t get very big. Because it’s never been logged and the ground has been undisturbed for about 8,000 years, some pretty rare plants grow here. You can find calypso orchids, candystick, gnome plant, pinedrops and spotted coralroot. These are all interesting plants that live off other plants – so they aren’t green, and this painting is all about showing that. Candystick looks just like its name. It’s a colorful stick like something you’d find at the candy store. To get this sketch going, I simply used my backyard plant and bird list for the pileated woodpecker, brown creeper and all the rest. The deer is from a photo from our front yard. The squirrel, chipmunk and most of the small birds could be drawn from life on our feeder every day.

When it’s finished, we’ll develop an exhibit in the park centered around the painting and its story, and each time we go there for a hike (and it’s often) I’ll feel like I’m a small part of this rare place. This project is being funded by a generous grant from the Friends of Fort Townsend (especially Ann and Nancy) and the Washington State Native Plant Society who know the value of art in education. Thanks to them for allowing me to show off  my backyard!

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Cedar Falls Trail – A Picnic Table Painting

A traditional watercolor painting for today. We spent last week hiking on the east side of the North Cascades and each evening I painted on the picnic table in Site 38, Pearrygin Lake State Park. Like everyone else in the West, they’ve experienced record snowpack and with temperatures in the 80’s, the snow is wasting no time getting out of there. And with spring pushed into summer, the flowers were just amazing. All the alpine lakes are still iced up, but these lower trails along the rivers were stunning, with lupine, paintbrush, calypso orchids, chocolate lilies, mountain ash, balsamroot – all of it in bloom at once. So, back in camp I got out the paints to relive the same experience twice.

While on this trail, I did a short little soundscape recording. I’m trying to figure out a way to easily add sound clips to paintings of these blog trail paintings, so here goes.

If you’re reading this from an email, try this: Cedar-falls-soundscape

If you’re reading this on the internet blog, click this:  Cedar-Falls.amr

Pearrygin Lake is downslope of the North Cascades Highway and south of the Pasayton Wilderness, some of the wildest and most pristine country I know. With over a half million acres, the Pasayton is the northern terminus of the Pacific Crest Trail. It’s one of the few places in the Lower 48 where trailhead signs have notices for BOTH grizzlies and wolves. This one was on the South Fork of the Twisp River coming down from North Cascades National Park and caught our eyes. It states hunters need to make sure the dog-species they’re killing is a coyote instead of a wolf. So, why would anyone climb up these steep trails to pull the trigger on a coyote when they’re in most everyone’s backyards – but then hunting anything at all has always baffled me. Doesn’t it seem like we as the now-dominant and planet caretaker species should be beyond that sort of mayhem?

Thanks for reading this week. This painting isn’t for sale just yet. The memories are too good to let it go.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

A Torrent of Mud on Mount St. Helens

This is another in the series of wayside panels I recently finished for Mount St. Helens National Monument. Now, you’ll have to admit I’m not normally posting paintings of mudflows – and I can’t even remember ever doing one. The top bit of art tells the story of the giant mudflow that filled this valley 31 years ago during the eruption. The finished outdoor panel will be placed at the overlook boardwalk above the creek. Linda Repplinger and Susan Jurasz of Sea Reach Ltd, 146 NE Yamhill St. Sheridan Oregon did the layout and design.  Also involved in these panels were Peter Reedijk from Sea Reach and Charlie Crisafulli and several others from USDA Forest Service, Mount St Helens who added additional thoughts and comments on the accuracy of the images.

As it’s not easy to read here, this is the text for the panel written, I believe, by Rebecca Railey, Interpretive Planner at Mount St Helens National Monument: Lava Canyon’s beauty lay hidden for centuries beneath lush evergreen forests until the May 18, 1980 eruption. A surge of hot gas, ash and pumice boiled out of the crater and scoured nearly 30 feet of ice off St. Helens Shoestring Glacier. Water, ash and rock mixed, forming a thick slurry that raced down the mountain and into the Muddy River drainage. A 15 foot wall of mud and rock swept into Lava Canyon. In an instant, the mudflow’s boulders and abrasive ash battered, scoured and swept away the vibrant forest that cloaked this canyon, exposing its beautiful waterfalls and rock formations.

The photos below the painting show what it looks like today, but, as they say “a painting is worth 1000 words” and with only about space for a hundred of them – that’s why they commissioned me. In the process I learned a bunch about mudflows. This version had the mudflow too fluid, so I worked at making it more champagne-milk-shakey. Haven’t seen that final mock up, but only I and a couple of USFS science-guys would know the difference between milk-shakey and fluid-flowing. And since no one actually saw this happening, it’s only a guess anyway.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Hole-In-The-Wall at Rialto Beach

We were on the road to Moab, Utah for some business and sunny hiking on the slick-rock. Then – the updated weather report said it was going to be in the mid-90’s, and, not wanting to just be normal people, we turned right instead and went out to the cool, wild and always delightful Olympic Coast. Saved a grand in camping and gas, and how could this be any less amazing than where we were originally going? We’ll get to Utah sooner or later, just not this week. And being able to do these things really is what being an artist is all about.

While sitting on the beach between hikes I did a couple of watercolors. This one was on a partially overcast day, so I kept it to only two colors. This is low tide at Hole-In-the-Wall at Rialto Beach – rated #2 in Olympic National Park sights to see. There were only two other people on the beach!

We continued past this area, past the shipwreck stuff, the eagle’s nest and possible Quileute werewolves left over from the Twilight movies that were filmed here, and in about a mile we came to an amazing place. Most hikers on Rialto Beach only go as far as where the painting was created – a couple of miles through often very soft gravel. But if you go another mile around the next point (low tide only and you’d better plan your escape accordingly), you’ll come to a rocky flat tideland “meadow.” I can only call it a meadow because that’s what it appeared to be, like an absolutely flat (not inclining like a beach) alpine meadow below the high-tide line. (click the photo, it should enlarge so you can see it better) This place was an acre at least, and so full of sea life you couldn’t move without squashing a turban shell, or a turban filled with hermit crab. Eel grass and rockweed covered almost every surface which was interesting because eel grass is normally a sand-thing, certainly not on a rocky headland. We couldn’t count the number of seastars, limpets and mussels. Why this area is so rich we could only imagine. At high tide, it has to be only be a few feet deep, so maybe it’s the extra light, slightly warmer water, who knows – but it was hard Olympic bedrock that was flat. From Cabo to Homer, we’ve never seen anything like it in all our tramping around West Coast beaches.

The original watercolor and ink painting of Hole-in-the-Wall is 8″ x 10″ and $100 unframed.
The double mat with custom wood frame makes it a total of $125 and shipping adds just a bit more depending on your zone or if you take the frame. This is the original painting, NOT a print – and you get the saltwater smudge on the bottom of the paper (not on the painting) for free.
Email us for details.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Migrating Dunlin – Taking a Break

 

 

We were out on one of the West End Olympic beaches the other day – Beach #2 maybe, and up in the wrack I spotted this little dunlin. It seemed okay, probably just taking a well-deserved rest. What was unusual for us was that it was in the finest breeding form, a suit of clothes we don’t normally get to see over on Puget Sound around Port Townsend – over there we see Fall southbound birds in dull-gray clothes. I’m guessing that it was about half way on the north-bound migratory journey from Mexico to the North Slope of Alaska. There were a couple other dunlin also on the beach, so we assumed this one was with that bunch, and the fact it wasn’t alone felt good to us.

I was struck by the enormity of the scene. Visualize giant and endless sets of waves on a rugged shoreline, piles of drift trees all the way up into the forest where winter storms had easily tossed them, millions upon millions of polished stones and bits of driftwood stretching into the distance in both directions – and this tiny 2-ounce hemispheric traveller that weighs the same as two first class letters was on its way from Mexico to the Arctic. Worthy of a painting? I thought so?

This ORIGINAL painting is varnished acrylic on linen canvas, 8″ x 10″ and $125 unframed.
We have nice custom wood frames for $25 and shipping adds just a bit more depending on your zone or if you take the frame. This is the original painting, NOT a print.
Email us for details.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Clickhere to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography. She has some current posts of the same trip (ours, not the dunlin’s).

Barnes Creek Trail – an Ageless Moment

Another sweet old-growth trail painting today. How many of these trails have I been on? I think it’s some genetic throwback to a distant past that compels me to hike just one more of these trails, and then paint the darned thing later (it’s two for one – first the trail experience and then reliving that pleasure in a painting). This one starts on Lake Crescent in Olympic National Park, goes gently upslope following the creek past Merrymere Falls (pretty cool in itself) and onto the flanks of Mount Storm King. About two miles out, the trail goes over a little hump past some pretty impressive trees – which is where the inspiration for this painting occurred. Don’t go up there looking for it – these things are never even close to what they actually look like. There I was, waiting for Nancy to photograph some spring flowers – knees in the dirt, head in the ferns as usual. And while I stood there soaking in the forest, I just fell in love with the place – the gentle flow of the trail, the glow of light on a few leaves, the agelessness of it all.

This ORIGINAL painting is varnished acrylic on linen canvas, 8″ x 10″ and $320 unframed.
A custom wood frame is about $25 and shipping adds just a bit more depending on your zone or if you take the frame. This is the original painting, NOT a print.
Email us for details.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Demise of a Favorite Bridge

Bark Shanty Bridge – Big Quilcene River: If you’ve been reading these posts for a few years, you might recognize this painting. Recently we hiked the same trail under those same giant trees, the Lower Big Quil a few miles south of us. At just under the three mile mark, first one beautiful old bridge, then Bark Shanty Flat with giant cedars and Doug-firs, and around the bend to a very disheartening sight. Bark Shanty Bridge has been hit by not one, but two giant trees, and the far end is crushed to pieces. It’s cleared away and open to hikers only, but the deed is done and the bridge will soon be history. The Forest Service says it’s letting a contract this summer for a replacement, and if the new bridge on the nearby Dungeness Trail is any example, they’ll do a good job of carefully replacing it with another hand-carved log span. BUT, OUR bridge is soon to be gone – the one I used as the model for this painting. It had real character – a fish net nailed across the tread to improve traction, mossy handrails, notched logs for the cross beams. The Forest Service isn’t sure how old it is, but I’m guessing 1950’s at least – probably not WPA-age because wood just doesn’t last all that long up in those wet forests. As my painterly-life has gone on, this has happened more times than I can count, and I’m beginning to think it’s bad luck – or good luck, maybe, to recognize something beautiful and interesting – and instill some sort of painterly immortality upon it before it’s gone.

The Bark Shanty Bridge the other day. You can see where the trees hit it on the far side, and the splintered spire of the second tree’s base. Evidently during a winter’s high water, the upper sections of both trees then washed back downstream and lodged under the bridge.

We still have prints available of this painting. Here they are on the main website.
Or, you can Email us for details.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography. I think she’s cooking up a blog post of this too.

The Marmots of Hurricane Hill

A local project this week. Olympic National Park is just to the southwest of us, we see the snow shining on the peaks just a few miles away. The Olympic Peninsula is a biological island, with water on three sides and lowland on the fourth, so Olympic’s alpine is really isolated from the rest of the continent. Because of this, there are at least twenty-three plants and animals that are only found here – although a couple are on Vancouver Island peaks too. Take a walk in the alpine and you’ll see nature you can’t see anywhere else. One of these is the Olympic marmot, a big meadow-living woodchuck that spends its summers eating sedges and grasses as it prepares for the next 8 months of underground sleeping. We often see these guys hanging out on their den “front porches”, watching for preditors. But recently, their meadows have been changing – and not for the better. One might say the neighborhood has been going to the dogs (coyotes).

So this bit of art will alert visitors as they climb the Hurricane Hill trail to watch for a rare critter that is in trouble. Climate Change? Well, the Park might not say this, but I see thousands of brand new little confers invading the upper meadows, where trees haven’t been before. It’s like winters aren’t as harsh, the growing season just a bit longer. More trees equal better cover for lowland coyotes to sneak through as they go after the marmots. And the coyotes are here since the wolves have been exterminated!

For me, it’s another chance to learn more about nature – and figure out how to illustrate it so you can too.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.

Mount St. Helens Wayside Panels

Besides all the other stuff I’ve posted here over the past few months, I’ve been working on paintings for some outside panels at Mount St. Helens National Monument. Here’s the first one. Mount St. Helens is about half a day’s drive south of us, and last fall we were up there to have a look. The eruption happened 31 years ago, and the changes since the initial devastation are pretty amazing. Nature is back in a big way, and my paintings will help explain that. When we were here at this overlook at Meta Lake, there was a toad hatch-out, and what appeared to be squirming mud soon defined itself as a bunch of little amphibians. This species, and lots of others, survived the May 1980 blast because they were either in their dens under the snow, under the lake ice, or buried in mud.

I’ll show you the other panels in weeks to come. Learning about and then illustrating the giant eruption and its aftermath has been a fun project. I feel like we know that mountain in a much better way. It’s one of the reasons I continue to do this stuff. And if you’re on the north side Spirit Lake road, look for a little Eifert art gallery as you go – and you’ll learn about it too. Maybe I should put out a map and guide to all these waysides around the country where you can see my work on outdoor panels. I haven’t kept good track, but I’d guess we’re up to at least 400 by now.

These panels are being designed and created by Sea Reach Ltd. of Sheridan, Oregon – a bunch of very nice people. In an interesting twist, I also bid on this project, which Sea Reach won. Not to be left out, I contacted them and pleaded to be involved – and so here I am. No one ever said I was shy and retiring – but you already know that.

Thanks for reading this week.
Larry Eifert

Click here to go to the online blog this was to.

Click here to go to our main website – packed with jigsaw puzzles, prints, interpretive portfolios and lots of other stuff.

Click here to check out what Nancy’s currently working on with her photography.