It was 1970, long ago in a galaxy far, far, away. We all were still feeling the magic of having landed men on the moon for the first time the year before, Vietnam was raging, and Haight-Ashbury was the seat of a rebellious youthful culture, entertained by the music of such icons as Janis Joplin and The Doors. ATM cards, cell phones, CD’s and other electronic wizardry had not hit us yet, and computers were mostly large, ungainly machines that took up space in large rooms at NASA or the UW. However, there still were lots of butterflies …

I was a student at the University of Washington, studying Zoology and Botany, intensely interested in butterflies and moths. You might not have recognized me then, through all the curly muttonchops, tall and skinny with those ugly black framed glasses that characterized the times. My butterfly buddy was also an unlikely looking sort, a burly football player from Yakima Valley College named Jon Pelham. Like me, Jon had been interested in butterflies since childhood. We were young, and we were intense about butterflies!

During the previous two or three years, we had spent time in the field getting to know each other, energetically going out to find every Washington butterfly in whatever way we could. In the “in-between-trip” times and off season, we reared butterfly species as well as an assortment of the larger Silk and Sphinx moths that we obtained as eggs from other Lepidopterists all over the U.S. Jon was quickly becoming expert on just about every butterfly-identification, host plant, habits, and overall ecology.

It was always a challenge to get out into the field in those days, since neither of us had a car, and we were captive to parents, sympathetic friends, and older Lepidopterists who would let us tag along. How frustrating were the many long, hot, summer days that we were stuck in Seattle. Once, in desperation, we even took a bus and hitchhiked to a good collecting area near Roslyn, “camping out” ·with nothing more than a few candy bars, nets, and sleeping bags, in weather that was thankfully forgiving of our youthful folly. The next morning we were “rescued” by a sympathetic Lepidopterist from Ellensburg.

We were quite lucky to have good mentors such as Dr. Dennis Paulson, Dr. Melville Hatch, Dr. Dave McCorkle, Don Frechin, Dan Carney, E.J. Newcomer, and others who did their best to guide our interests. Dr. Bob Pyle was a good friend and also an occasional companion of ours at that time, taking photographs for his first book, “Watching Washington Butterflies,” which was also his Master’s Thesis at the UW College of Forestry, and the first of many popular books he would write.

Now it was going to be different! My Dad, Floyd, stressed in his insurance business, was always looking for ways to relax and be active outside, offered a car, overnight hotel accommodations, and companionship for our first really big trip. We were going after The Astarte Fritillary (Boloria astarte)! For years we had heard about Hart’s Pass and Slate Peak in the Pasayten wilderness area of Okanogan County, and the elusive arctic butterflies like the Astarte Friti!la,y that lived there. It had been mostly a dream, and we had not been able to find anyone who would take us quite that far (There was no North Cascades Highway yet, so it was a long drive to get there!)

And what a trip it was! We arrived on a sunny morning in early August, struggling to keep our balance in the howling winds and slippery rock screes of Slate Peak. Persistent snow banks lined the north side of the pass. It was warm, though, and we immediately could see butterflies! Grabbing our nets, we were quickly reduced to gasping, noticing despite our youth, running around at more than 7,000 feet took some amount of extra energy. The medium-sized dusky orange butterflies that whizzed by our faces and made us yelp turned out to be the Astarte Fritillary, and tl1ey were plentiful. It was one of tl1e most exciting butterfly days I can remember, and one that I’ll never forget! We also saw lots of other great butterflies, including the equally choice Melissa Artic (Oeneis melissa), as well as the Common Branded Skipper (Hesperia comma), Rocky Mountain Paranssian (Pamassius smintheus), Anise S1va!!o1vtai! (Papilio zelicaon), Indra Swallowtail (Papilio indra), Western White (Pontia occidentalis), Mormon Fritillary (Spryeria mormonia), Artic Fritillary (Boloria chariclea), Anicia Checkerspot (Euprydryas anicia), Edith’s Checkerspot (Euphrydryas editha), and other species. That evening over dinner and in the hotel at Winthrop we talked for hours about how much fun the day had been. That evening, Jon and I smiled at each other across the table as we realized that we had also permanently converted my Dad into a Lepidopterist. And when the weather turned cloudy the next day, our spirits were hardly dampened, and we had a great time looking for caterpillars of the Two-Tailed Swallowtail (Papilio multicaudatus) on Choke Cherry saplings lower down in elevation along a creek, in between bouts with rattlesnakes (ask Jon about that one!)

We came back to Slate Peak in 1972, since the Astarte Fritillary only flies on even-numbered years, and it was even more exciting than the first trip! By then we were a little more seasoned, and had learned much in the two years away. During the first day walking along the ridge near Slate Peak, both Jon and I were standing next to Dr. Dave McCorkle as he netted the first specimen of the Lustrous Copper(Lycaena cuprea snowi) ever seen in Washington!
It was exciting to do those trips for the first time thirty years ago, and fun to realize we can do it again this coming season, since it is an even-numbered year, and good for the Astarte Fritillary, Melissa Arctic, and Lustrous Copper. I think a WBA field trip to Hart’s Pass and Slate Peak this coming summer is one of the ways we can really celebrate the new millennium!

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by Mike Van Buskirk