The Simultaneous Seasons of California (and a peek at Half Dome)

It was a beautiful Christmas day here in the Central Valley, one of the prettiest I can recall. The storm that blew through yesterday was gone, and the winds were enough to prevent the fog from setting in. I took a walk along the Tuolumne River Parkway Trail in Waterford, and was gifted one of those rarest of things: a clear view of the beautiful Sierra Nevada. And of course it was the moment of three simultaneous seasons of California.

Yes, it's that time of year in California when three seasons occur at once. Sure, the calendar says it's winter and all, and that is certainly true in the high country of the Sierra, buried under feet of snow. But here in the valley, the last leaves are finally falling from the Valley Oak trees along the river, but with the rain has come the promise of spring as the grass sprouts and spreads a layer of green along the bluffs above the Tuolumne River.

The gift of enjoying the panorama of the Sierra Nevada Crest is rare in our valley. Although my little town sits at the very edge of the Sierra Nevada foothills, the mountain range is a tilted block of crust that slopes gently westward. As a consequence, the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada lie 40-50 miles away. The view of the peaks is generally obscured most of the time, for reasons both natural and artificial. In winter, an inversion layer develops that keeps a barrier of fog and mist that prevents any viewing of the mountains. In the summer and fall, dust and smog obscure the view. It is most often at the end of storms that the mountains are revealed in their full glory like they were today.

The Tuolumne River is one of the two main rivers that drain Yosemite National Park (the Merced River is the other. So the view from my trail encompasses much of the roughly 1,000 square miles of the park (for perspective, Yosemite Valley itself is only about 7 square miles). The view above includes most of the high peaks of the park, including the highest (Mt. Lyell). The diagram below, courtesy of CalTopo, provides the names of the peaks seen in the photo above.

Analysis courtesy of CalTopo

Amazingly enough, Half Dome, Sentinel Dome, and El Capitan in Yosemite Valley are also visible! It's true that you cannot see very much of these iconic rocks, but their summits peek out above the intervening ridges. One generally needs binoculars or a powerful zoom to spy them. 

Still not obvious? I've outlined the top of Half Dome below, with the ridge of El Capitan below and slightly right. There is a much better view to be had of Half Dome from about 5 miles south of the trail near the junction of Keyes Road and S. Hickman Road. It's been a bit of fun arguing over the years with people who are absolutely sure that Half Dome can't be seen from the valley for all kinds of logical reasons (the photos of course are photoshopped or whatever, which by the way is not a skill that I have).

In any case, the view was one of the best gifts of this beautiful day. I hope your Christmas and other celebrations were wonderful, and that you have a great new year! Thanks for reading!

Hoping All a Peaceful Christmas and a Better New Year

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! As is my (sometimes neglected) tradition, I offer up a very big Christmas tree, the General Grant Tree in Kings Canyon National Park. The tree is so large (268 feet high, 40 feet across at the base) that it took three pictures for me to capture it.

I don't have a shot of the General Grant all dressed in snow, so here is another Sequoia after a surprise storm during an April trip some years ago.

The tree was declared by Calvin Coolidge in 1926 to be the nation's Christmas Tree. At an early ceremony, park superintendent Colonel John White said ""We are gathered here around a tree that is worthy of representing the spirit of America on Christmas Day. That spirit is best expressed in the plain things of life, the love of the family circle, the simple life of the out-of-doors. The tree is a pillar that is a testimony that things of the spirit transcend those of the flesh." 

Individual trees can live for several thousand years, but the genus has existed since the time of the dinosaurs. They once grew across the northern hemisphere until they were done in by the Ice Ages. They survive today in several dozen groves scattered across the western slope of the Sierra Nevada.

It has really been a tough couple of years with droughts and other natural disasters. I am especially mourning the loss of so many Sequoia trees to wildfires. In the last two years, some 20 percent of all the Sequoia trees on this planet were destroyed. As we celebrate the beauty of these wonderful trees, we must acknowledge our role in their destruction, through climate change and misguided management of the groves. A horrible loss but the trees persist through it all.

It's odd to write of loss and tragedy in a post about a "happy" holiday season, but this holiday season has that sense of gloom and loss as well. I'm seeing people I've not seen in a long time, but we've had to be very careful, and the potential for tragedy continues in the form of a tiny but virulent virus that is surging for a fourth time. There is loss, but there is resilience as well, and that is my hope for all of you that you'll discover joy despite the losses we have all experienced.

I wish a wondrous season to you all!

The Best Christmas Present Ever

I grant that this post is a bit out of character for Geotripper, being not about rocks, or faults, or preservation of our most cherished landscapes. It is about a Christmas gift.

There are lots of holiday traditions, whether religious or secular, that are shared by people this time of year. As a kid, ours was all about Christmas. Sure, there was the religious aspect, but come on, we were kids. It was all about presents, Christmas trees, and Santa Claus, and this blog post is about a present. Yup, I was basically Ralphie in the movie "A Christmas Story", only my objective was more scientific: I wanted a telescope. I eventually even got one, but this isn't that story.

When I was a kid, I and my two siblings looked forward to the whole Christmas season, especially the tree decorating. There was the ceremonial selection of the tree at the Alpha Beta Grocery Store parking lot where my Scout Troop sold trees. There were the Christmas lights, the big bulbs that burned hot enough to dry out the tree and cause fires (luckily not in our case). And then there were the decorations, the boxes of glass ornaments, the red ones, the blue ones, and silver ones. We were allowed as kids to hang them, but then there was that fourth box, the "special" ones, the extra fancy ones with the glittered lines, and the concave shape on one side that made it sparkle a lot more. We had to reach a certain age before we were allowed to hang them, as they were as delicate as could be. Then there was the tinsel, hung carefully at first, but eventually just flung onto the tree randomly. And finally, at the end of it all, there was the tree topper ornament, the glass spike. It was a long time before we grew big enough to have the honor of placing that one.

Over the years, the various ornaments succumbed to accidents and sometimes to cats (they dangle so temptingly, don't they?). Sometimes we would miss one of them as we "undecorated" the tree, and heard the crunching as we threw the discarded tree to the curb. Other ornaments were added over the years, some purchased, some as gifts, and some lovingly (or otherwise) made as class projects. The number of plain glass balls dwindled, and even the special ones disappeared. We kids grew up and moved on, developing our own collection of ornaments. Decades passed, and the ornaments of my childhood faded from memory. I had "grown up".

The meaning of the holidays morphed over the years. Grandparents passed away, children were born, family members moved farther and farther away as they pursued their careers. It has become a precious thing to me that I can spend time with my sole remaining grandparent, my parents and in-laws, my own grown children and my siblings and their families. So these days, we travel a lot (you may have noticed how Geotripper has been posting from all over the west coast of the U.S. these last few weeks). We couldn't see everyone, but we did our best.

We ended our holiday journeys at my mother's place, and when we arrived, we noticed a cleared area in the garage. It was a lifetime of family Christmas ornaments that my mom has saved, and she wanted us to pick whatever we wanted. And to my great surprise, there were three surviving "special" glass ornaments out of the original twelve. And then mom pointed out that the tree topper had also somehow survived through the decades. Memories flooded back and in that short moment I was nine years old again.

And that's the story of my favorite Christmas present ever. How often do you get to experience a few moments of your childhood a half century on? No special morals or anything like that. Just a neat and special moment in life. Even better than the telescope I got fifty years ago.

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from the Gang at Geotripper

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all from the gang at Geotripper (that would be me and Mrs. Geotripper, and two cats)! As is our tradition, we offer up once again a very big Christmas tree, the General Grant Tree in Kings Canyon National Park. The tree is so large (268 feet high, 40 feet across at the base) that it took three pictures for me to capture it.

The tree was declared by Calvin Coolidge in 1926 to be the nation's Christmas Tree. At an early ceremony, park superintendent Colonel John White said ""We are gathered here around a tree that is worthy of representing the spirit of America on Christmas Day. That spirit is best expressed in the plain things of life, the love of the family circle, the simple life of the out-of-doors. The tree is a pillar that is a testimony that things of the spirit transcend those of the flesh."

I don't have a shot of the General Grant all dressed in snow, so here is another Sequoia after a surprise storm during an April trip some years ago.

Upper Yosemite Falls with a rainbow

The Sierra Nevada, as exemplified by Kings Canyon and Yosemite Valley, is the kind of place we think of when we dream of a white Christmas. We try to get up there whenever we can at this time of year.

The Cathedral Rocks

Christmas season is a time of gifts, and year by year I think more of the gifts that come from somewhere besides a store. One of the most precious gifts in my life is that I am able to live near places like these, and that I have the health and ability to visit them often. In places like Kings Canyon and Yosemite, we have a precious gift of nature. There are places near you that are gifts as well. It might be another national park, or it could be a state park. It could simply be a river, or a spot of forest surrounded by a city. My wish for you is that you can discover and explore a new place in the coming year. And if it is threatened, I wish that you will have the resources to help protect it. I have a feeling that we will need to fight for many of our precious wild places in the coming years.

El Capitan

I want to thank all of my readers, new and old, for your attention and kind comments over the last eight years that I've been blogging (that's 1,842 posts now, not that anyone is counting). I've always enjoyed hearing from you, and appreciate getting to know new friends from all over the world. I wish a wondrous season to you all!

A Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays from a Winter Wonderland!

Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays to all! As is my tradition, I offer up once again a very big Christmas tree, the General Grant Tree in Kings Canyon National Park. The tree is so large (268 feet high, 40 feet across at the base) that it took three pictures for me to capture it.

The tree was declared by Calvin Coolidge in 1926 to be the nation's Christmas Tree. At an early ceremony, park superintendent Colonel John White said ""We are gathered here around a tree that is worthy of representing the spirit of America on Christmas Day. That spirit is best expressed in the plain things of life, the love of the family circle, the simple life of the out-of-doors. The tree is a pillar that is a testimony that things of the spirit transcend those of the flesh." I don't have a shot of the General Grant all dressed in snow, so here is another Sequoia after a surprise storm during an April trip.

In the spirit of full disclosure, I'm not actually there, and there's no snow where I'm at, but it could happen. Temps in Seattle are in the thirties, and there is precipitation coming down. Instead, I'm offering up some scenes of some of my favorite holiday haunts, Yosemite Valley. Mrs. Geotripper and I try to get up there every year about this time, and it may yet happen this year too. Snow is a magical thing in California, a source of wonderment and beauty. We aren't really all that familiar with it, especially over the last five years!

Bridalveil Falls under ice

This is turning out to be a season of hope, as the Sierra snowpack has reached 100% of normal for the first time in years. The El Niño weather pattern, the strongest ever recorded, has not yet exerted itself, but the warm waters of the Pacific Ocean have already added some oomph to the storms we've already. In 1997, we were hit with a series of incredibly warm storms that caused record flooding. We find ourselves hoping for a more measured series of storms that could fill our reservoirs without flooding.

Upper Yosemite Falls with a rainbow

In the meantime, please enjoy these wintertime scenes from my treasured spot on the planet. Yosemite Valley is a place born of fire and ice, the "fire" from below that melted the crust into magmas that eventually became the granitic rocks, and the ice that helped to shape the stunning valley (the Merced River did most of the deepening of the canyon, while the ice sculpted the walls into their unique shapes and patterns).

Sentinel Rock in icy conditions

Yosemite Valley is just seven square miles (seven very famous square miles) in a park that has more than a thousand square miles. The park provides protection for the headwaters of the Tuolumne and Merced Rivers, both of which have carved spectacular gorges out of the granitic rock. Much of the park is roadless wilderness, but paved highways explore the Tuolumne Meadows and Glacier Point regions.

The Cathedral Rocks

Yosemite Valley, though, is a true treasure, with a striking combination of vertical cliffs, high waterfalls, quiet meadows (if you catch the right moment), and flowing rivers. I visit whenever I can, never once taking this incredible place for granted. It's one of the greatest gifts that nature has provided us.

El Capitan

I want to thank all of my readers, new and old, for your attention and kind comments over the last seven years that I've been blogging. I've always enjoyed hearing from you, and appreciate getting to know my new friends from all over the world. I wish a wondrous season to you all!

The Last Christmas Gift: A Joshua Tree

A last Christmas scene...

Some of my family lives in the desert near Joshua Tree National Park. We hadn't been there in the past, and expected one of those California-style cookie cutter housing developments imposed on a desert landscape that doesn't really reflect the nature of the desert. Arriving late in the day, I was delighted to find that there was an unspoiled Joshua Tree forest adjacent to their lot. The sun was setting, so I took off across the desert to get a few pictures.

Joshua Trees are a species almost unique to California (I think a few spill over into Arizona and Nevada), and they are a semi-tropical holdover from a different climate and ecosystem. Their seeds do not have a readily available method of dispersal so the tree isn't invading new habitats as the climate grows warmer. It has been suggested that prior to 13,000 years before the present their seeds were spread by giant ground sloths, who were known to eat the fruits of the tree. No animal performs the task today.
The tree got its name from the early Mormon colonizers in the region, who likened the branches to the arms of Joshua of the Bible raised in prayer. They are a unique part of the flora that defines the Mojave Desert.

Have a good Christmas night!

The Christmas Gift: Storm Passes in Grand Canyon

Christmas gifts come in many different forms. The storm that engulfed the Grand Canyon the previous evening gave way to a new morning, and hints emerged that this day would be different. The rain and cold wind had stopped, and on the far rim there were signs that the clouds might be clearing a little.

We walked to the rim of the abyss and looked into what had been darkness, and saw instead that walls and ridges were emerging from the mist. And just like that, the veil was lifted and the canyon filled with light and color.

Christmas has many meanings to many people; it is the solstice, the cycling of the seasons, it is the birth of a saviour, it is a time of family, it is the high season of the economic cycle when profits are made. To me it is also a reminder that our existence is a gift to be cherished and that there is much that is beautiful in the world. The rocks exposed in the Grand Canyon tell a long and ancient story, a story in which humans are but the smallest blip, yet in 2 billion years of time, there is this short and unique moment when the entire story has been laid bare by erosion in the most spectacular fashion possible. But rock by falling rock, the canyon is being removed and in a few more million years, the story will be lost in the mists of time. We are here together to share this brief moment, and these moments of life are the most precious gift I can imagine.

Stay safe in your travels and have a most joyous Christmas and New Year!

The Christmas Gift: A Storm in the Grand Canyon

We journeyed across three states for the opportunity to see the precious treasure that is the Grand Canyon. Our trip happened to coincide with the arrival of an intense series of storms that have wreaked havoc across California and the southwest, and we reached the rim just in time to see the storm reach the Grand Canyon area. It was cold and windy, and darkness was spreading across the North Rim, about 14 miles away as the raven flies, but ravens weren't out and about on a day like this one. We were, though.

In a matter of minutes, all that was beautiful about the canyon was obscured by the growing darkness. The colorful formations that record some 2 billion years of Earth history disappeared under the shadow of the present moment in time.

At numerous points, rain and clouds started pouring over the rim, and nothing could be seen through the impenetrable fog. The sign at the canyon overlook became an ironic commentary (which reminded me of another sign that I saw at the entrance station: "Bad weather predicted; visibility impaired; no refunds).

The rain came hard, cold and fast, and we had to retreat from the edge, seeking comfort in warmer and drier places. The storm was in control, and we had no way of knowing what was coming next. The future was obscured...

There are gifts of many kinds; even in the darkest moments, there is sometimes beauty and optimism. Next...the hope of morning.