Hidden from view

That the scablands is a different world is illustrated by the tiny Lomatium gormanii. Old follows a ritual of venturing out on New Year’s Day to find the first spring flower. Lomatium gormanii grows in exposed basalt faces, which absorb the heat even of the late-December sun. Last year Old found the first bloom on December 20.

That Old found the scabland flower in Pullman makes no difference. Although the great floods did not sweep over Pullman, the scabland species find their way out of the coulees and canyons of the scabland proper.

The effects of the great floods reach from the mouth of the Clark Fork River in Idaho to the Pacific Ocean. But because the corridor between Cheney and Pasco had no high hills or bluffs to contain the water, it spread over 2,500 square miles.

Much of that area is private land. The advantage of trekking with Old is he’s fifth-generation to the area. He knows who owns what, who to ask. And so one day last spring we tramped through an area of the scablands that few people ever get to see, the canyon where Rock Creek flows into Rock Lake. Bounded by the lake and a series of waterfalls, it is a magical place, despite Old’s regret.

“When I was first taking botany,” says Old, “I found Blepharipappus here. I’ve been back yearly, but haven’t seen it since.”

Equally magical—and open to the public—is the Escure Ranch. Downstream from Rock Lake on Rock Creek, and purchased by the Bureau of Land Management in 1999, the Escure Ranch is classic scabland. An easy hike takes the visitor into one of the loveliest waterfalls in the Northwest. A large lake is another couple miles in. Although the plant life suffers badly from overgrazing, some natives persist.

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Lomatium gormanii

Towell Falls, on Rock Creek, Escure Ranch.

Old leads us up a mesa, identifying plants as we go and decrying the invasion of pocket gophers from the wheatfields above us. The arrowleaf balsamroots have withered slightly from a late harsh frost the night before. North of us is another, much larger mesa that was formed by the floods, which scoured the sides and top of the basalt outcrop. Except for meadowlarks, the occasional raven flying over the valley, and our Latin-laden conversation, there is absolute quiet.

Like many of the flood’s hidden channels, the 13,000-acre ranch is a harsh Eden within the monotony of the wheatfields, an exquisite scar through what Zane Grey called the desert of wheat, refuge to mule deer and badger, cliff swallows and ferruginous hawks, sage, bunchgrass, Jacob’s ladder, and blue-eyed Mary. In spite of the European invasives, the ancient catastrophic beauty of the area prevails. In spite of the loss that he sees, Old is smiling the whole time.

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The Escure Ranch, near Winona, Washington, recently obtained by the Bureau of Land Management, suffers from years of grazing. But the terrain is classic scabland.

To find the Escure Ranch: Heading west out of Winona on Endicott West Road, turn right on the second road. After a couple of miles, take the first left, then the next left. Soon you’ll see a sign for the ranch. It is about 10 miles from Winona.