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From the look of the clouds, it was going to get windy.

Heading west into the foothills I could see the ragged edge of a chinook-type arch overhead and the oval shapes of the clouds above and below it. The wind was definitely blowing up there but, so far at least, it hadn’t made it down to the ground.

I was on my way up to the Ware Creek valley, an area I haven’t been to in quite a while, to look around for mushrooms. T’is the season for them, now that September is upon us, and though I never pick or eat them, I really enjoy taking their pictures.

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So I headed west from Millarville up to the edge of the mountains to have a look around.

The countryside looks stunning out there right now. The pastures are all still green, the ridges that surge like bow waves ahead of the mountain prows are shadowed in shades of jade, the valleys sparkle with little streams like Threepoint and Ware Creeks. And except for a few county and gas plant vehicles, I had it pretty much all to myself.

Which made it nice to poke around the little campground by Threepoint Creek.

I don’t often stop in campgrounds to look around, mostly because they are often crowded. But here on a Tuesday morning, there were only a couple of trailers and a single tent. Beyond that, there was no one there as I drove slowly around.

This particular campground — North Fork, I think it’s called — sits right along the creek with sites that back onto the flood-protection berm and others tucked into the trees and because it is situated in this sheltered, south-facing valley, it encloses a nice variety of habitats.

Over against the shady north side, there are horsetails and moss and other damp-loving plants while out in the sunny spots, hawkweed, thistles and fireweed grow. The big trees in the deepest shade are hung with lichens. Aspens and poplars fill in the background while roses and raspberries — there were still a few sweet treats hanging on — cover the spots between the sites.

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Thistles, asters and a few fireweed are still blooming and they caught the morning light as they swayed in the breeze that was starting to blow. Goldenrod and yarrow danced, too, as did the threads of spider silk among the branches. And there were birds.

Out in the open, a trio of ravens was poking at something on the ground, their black feathers shiny and metallic in the morning light. Around them, siskins and young chipping sparrows. I saw a flash of blue that turned out to be a jay. I could hear robins high in the trees.

Down on the ground, a squirrel was foraging, gathering up rose hips. It was running with them in its mouth to stash somewhere but after a minute, it paused to actually eat one. A second squirrel spent a few seconds looking at me from a branch before continuing up the tree to get at the cones. And with the exception of that second squirrel, none of them paid me much attention, I suspect because they are used to having people and vehicles around.

But I was here to look for fungi and though there were mushrooms scattered among the trees there weren’t all that many. So I pulled out of the campground and headed a bit further west.

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I had kinda figured on heading up toward the ridge that leads over to McLean Creek to explore the treed area up that way but just a kilometre or so from the campground I came to the turnoff for Gorge Creek Trail. I knew there were some meadows down that way that might be fungus-y so since I was right there, I took the turn.

I had expected to park by the closed gate at the bridge over Threepoint Creek and then walk over to the first meadow but to my surprise, the gate was open. So I kept on rolling.

The first meadow was nice but I had to come back this way anyway so I pushed on to the grassy area where a power line goes through. Looked pretty mushroom-y but since the road ahead was just waiting for me, I rolled on.

It was a steep climb up to the first ridge, the little truck bouncing over loose rocks and ruts, but as I climbed, the views got better and better. But the wind also got stronger and stronger. It was blowing pretty hard when I stopped to take pictures of some tall, skinny aspens but by the time I hit the top of the ridge it was roaring.

Like, literally. The long gusts sounded like jet engines and I could hear branches snapping among the trees. Dark clouds were tumbling and churning and they sped eastward and a few drops of rain spattered the windshield.

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But, dammit, it was beautiful. So I rolled on.

Once off the ridge, the wind was less strong and it dropped off dramatically as I descended into the Ware Creek valley. While the ridge had been populated with aspens and pines, down here in the sheltered valley it was tall spruce and poplars. Stopping the truck to get out and look for fungi, with the wind abated I could hear the creek trickling and leaves rustling.

And on the mossy forest floor, there were mushrooms.

Gotta admit, it wasn’t the best place to look for them but there were a few. Not being a mycologist, I can’t tell you their names but they were the common species you often see among the trees in the damper parts of the forest. So I laid down on the moss and spruce needles to get close.

Such a lovely, musty smell down there on the forest floor, so rich and pungent. And the mushrooms, up close, had a bronze tint that complemented the browns, greys and greens around them. I didn’t disturb any but I couldn’t stop myself from reaching out to touch one. It felt cool and smooth, like waxed leather.

There were little fleabanes close by, their pinkish petals looking more blue in the shadowy light, and bunchberries, their creamy little blossoms now morphed into bright red berries that seemed to glow in blue shade. On a fallen log I came across a scattering of yellow petals. Why they were there, no idea.

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The wind was trying to get down to the forest floor now and I could hear it shoving around the treetops above me so I started waking back to the truck. But at least the clouds weren’t as menacing. Stopping to take a couple pictures from the bridge over Ware Creek, soft sun shone on the water.

That, of course, didn’t last. I was back in the gusting wind less than a kilometre down the road and watching the trees whip around and hearing branches snap at the crest of the ridge. Rain came in with the gusts and looking back toward the mountains I could see thin sheets of it hanging from the clouds.

But back on the downhill side, I was out of the strongest gusts and I found patches of bright orange fairy bell berries with red twisted-stalk and white yarrow flowers. Harebells, feathery clematis and fireweed grew among them. The dogbane had already turned yellow but the aspens showed little sign of the impending fall.

And the little whitetail buck that stopped to stare for a second still had velvet on his antlers. A doe he was with tried to hide behind a skinny aspen before bounding off among the trees.

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The wind was screaming overhead, sounding more like a running river as it set up a constant roar among the trees. Even back down by the first meadow, well below the ridge, I could hear it howling and though it was less strong here, I still had a tough time getting the screamingly scarlet leaves of a wild rose in focus. The paintbrush — red but not quite as bright— was a challenge, too. The big puffballs — the only fungi I could find here — stayed perfectly still, though.

The clouds were thickening even more now, the sunniness and pleasant light blown away, so I started heading for open country again. I cut east through a brief rainfall back toward Millarville and then north again toward Priddis. I stopped briefly at a wetland just starting to show its fall colours — so pretty — and then again for a minute at Brown-Lowery Park to poke around the cow parsnips by the parking lot. So many wasps but at least the sun was out. And so was a very calm whitetail doe. She stared at me from between the leaves.

But rain was on the way and lots of it so I scurried on back to town before it hit.

So no, I didn’t find much in the way of fungi and I did get blown around quite a bit.

But you can’t spell fungi without fun so maybe come September I’ll head back out and look for fun again.

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