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!

A Rare Day for the Great Valley: The Sierra Crest, and a bit of Half Dome

California's Great Valley is many things: one of the most important agricultural regions in the world, America's Serengeti Plains where millions of migratory birds spend the winter, and one of the most polluted air basins in the country. The pollution is a shame, causing all manner of health problems for those who live here, and obscuring the incredible mountains that ring the valley. Except on a few select days out of the year. Today was one of those days.

Gray, Red and Merced Peaks in Yosemite National Park

We had a fairly intense storm last night, and it was followed up by windy cold conditions that cleared the air. I took my customary walk along the Tuolumne River Parkway Trail. A section of the trail follows the bluff and on days like this, I get a wonderful panorama of the Sierra Nevada covering Yosemite National Park. A zoomed-in look provides a view of Gray, Red and Merced Peaks in the southern part of Yosemite (above).

A shift to the north reveals the high peaks of the Sierra Crest, including Mt. Maclure, Rodgers Peak, and Mt. Lyell, three of the higher peaks in Yosemite National Park (Mt. Dana, the 2nd highest, isn't visible). Some of the foreground peaks are rather famous as well. Mt. Starr King and Sentinel Dome are visible, and at the very left edge of the photo is the top portion of Half Dome! It's hard to pick out, but the CalTopo provides some identification of the different peaks. 

Source: https://caltopo.com/view#ll=37.6344,-120.7662&e=15&t=n&z=9&c=0.31,85.35

There are better views of Half Dome from the valley floor (the intersection of Oakdale-Waterford Highway and Keyes Road is much clearer on days like this). I couldn't get any pictures today, but here's one from a different day (see some more at https://geotripper.blogspot.com/2019/02/it-was-that-kind-of-day-half-dome-from.html). 

A wonderful day.

Red Hills Area of Critical Environmental Concern (Couldn't the Bureaucrats Just Call it a Preserve?): Spring Update

Welcome to one of the most unique ecosystems and habitats in California's wealth of incredible places. It was ignored initially by miners in the region because it had no gold (the Mother Lode is a scant two miles away).  It was more recently ignored because it had no grass for grazing and poor soils incapable of growing anything "useful". The Bureau of Land Management, tasked in its early days of giving away land by way of the Homestead Act couldn't give the free acreage away at all. All but ignored by federal government, the absentee owner, it became an unofficial garbage dump, unauthorized shooting range, and unsanctioned off-road vehicle route. 

Why were the soils so poor in nutrients and toxic to plant growth? It was the underlying rocks: the serpentine and other ultramafic rocks associated with the Melones Fault in the Sierra Nevada Mother Lode. The soils developed on these rocks were severely deficient in important macronutrients, and contaminated (so-to-speak) by toxic metals. Most plants, including most grasses, cannot survive in these soils. Some select species tolerate the soils, and a few rare ones thrive. It is literally a different world, and as you can see in the picture above, the change is abrupt, as the prairie grasses and oak woodland suddenly give way to ceanothus or buckbrush and gray pine.

By the late 1980s the Bureau of Land Management, the federal agency in charge of the Red Hills area, belatedly recognized (with the encouragement and assistance of community and environmental activists) the unique nature of the ecosystem here, and declared it an "Area of Critical Environmental Concern", the kind of a designation that only a bureaucrat could love. It turned out that this landscape contained a large variety of endemic species found almost nowhere else, including a unique fish species, the Red Hills Roach (Lavinia symmetricus). Clean-ups were organized, and minimal tourists facilities (trails, parking areas, vault toilets, and a nature trail) were constructed. 

Bitter root (Lewisia rediviva)

For much of the year, especially in the hot dry summer, there is little to recommend about the Red Hills. Most of the plants are dead and gone to seed. But for a few months during the cooler wetter spring season, the hills come alive. It turned out that many of the plants adapted to living in these soils produce a vivid display of color when they bloom.

California Goldfields (Lasthenia californica) and scattered poppies

We took a bit longer to make our way up to the Red Hills this year, in large part because there hasn't been more than a spatter of rain since December. We are in the midst of another year of lingering drought. But in the end we decided to have a look, and although it came nowhere near the pyrotechnics of color of past years, there was more than enough to make for a satisfying excursion.

Poppy, a flower that seems able to grow in just about any environment California can fling at it.

Enjoy a little bit of color!

Monkeyflower (Erythranthe sp.)

Blue Dicks (Brodiaea)

The parking area and trailhead at Red Hills ACEC

Poppy sp. and Blue Dick (Brodiaea)

Serpentine

The Red Hills got their name from the red soils that develop on the ultramafic rocks, including serpentine. The rocks are rich in iron, thus the red color, but fresh surfaces of the rocks are generally shades of green, as can be seen above.

Paintbrush sp.

Lupine sp.

Lupine sp.

The Red Hills Area of Critical Environmental Concern is in the Sierra Nevada foothills near Chinese Camp off of Highway 120. If you want to learn more, or pay a visit, information about the Red Hills can be found on this BLM website, and the trail and road map can be found here.
 

I'm Occasionally Reminded I'm Near an Extraordinary Mountain Range: John Muir's Range of Light

It was one of those rare days of winter in the Great Valley of California. Recent rains have tamped down the dust, and gusty winds chased away the omnipresent haze. As a result, I was treated to a view of the mountain range that I live next to, but rarely see: the Sierra Nevada, John Muir's Range of Light. It is such a rare view that I have to realign my internal geography to recognize the peaks on the skyline. It's a special view, though. Almost all the high peaks lie within Yosemite National Park, one of my most treasured places.

I hike almost daily on the Tuolumne River Parkway Trail which climbs a short bluff to bypass the town's small water treatment plant. On clear days I am treated to a view towards the Sierra Nevada to the east, and a portion of the Diablo Range of the California Coast Ranges to the west. The most distant peaks, Mts. Lyell and Rogers Peak, are 80 miles away as the crow flies, so the initial peak identification is daunting. The distinctive shapes of the peaks are clearer at extreme zoom, so in the top picture I can identify Mt. Maclure on the far right, Mt. Simmons near the center, and below Simmons, almost invisible, the summit portion of Half Dome in Yosemite Valley! Cal Topo has a marvelous tool for identifying landmarks, as you can see below.

Source: Cal Topo

Mt. Clark and Gray Peak are the prominent peaks in the picture below. They are part of the Clark Range, a high spur that lies a number of miles west of the main Sierra Crest.

The next picture reveals the peaks south of Maclure. The three prominent triangular peaks (properly called glacial horns) from left to right are Mts. Maclure and Lyell, followed by Rogers Peak. Rogers is the only peak that is actually on the Sierra Crest, although Lyell is only a fifth of a mile away (the crest being defined as the ridge that separates west-flowing stream from those flowing east into the Owens Valley).

The last picture reveals Merced Peak (under the left side of the bird flock). It is part of the Clark Range. The Tuolumne River flows in the foreground.

The cabin fever resulting from pandemic isolation and winter conditions in the mountains is intense. I'm really looking forward to a chance to get back up into the mountains come spring and summer. But it is always nice to get a reminder that the mountains are there.
 

A Beautiful Scene for a Horrific Day

There aren't many days like this. That can be both a good thing and a bad thing. My country was rocked by a coup attempt and the Capitol Building was invaded and vandalized for the first time in centuries. It dominated my day and little else was accomplished, other than to stare unbelievingly at the screen where the events unfolded in Washington D.C. and various state capitols. When things settled somewhat, we had to get outside, away from the media. And we discovered it was one of the clearest days of the year.

We headed a few miles east to the single best viewpoint I know of in the western foothills of the Sierra Nevada: Turlock Lake State Recreation Area. The lake mainly serves as a fishing and boating site (as well as being a principle irrigation reservoir), but there is some interesting geology, and a wonderful view.

The dam is constructed on the sediments of the Turlock Lake and Mehrten formations, and a number of interesting fossils have been found in the area: mastodons, camels, horses, huge tortoises, and gigantic 9-foot-long tusked (really!) salmon.

East of the main picnic area there is a paved road that climbs to the top of the highest local hill, and on a clear day like this one was, the view extends from the high peaks of Yosemite National Park across the Central Valley to the mountains of the Diablo Range, and the rest of the Coast Ranges. Today was one of the clearest days I've seen in a long time.

Some lenticular clouds were building over the Sierra Crest, making me wish I was I could be up there and a little closer, but that wasn't to be this time. Maybe soon...

Postscript (1/30/21): Anonymous asked what peaks were visible in these pictures. I checked on caltopo.com and found that we were looking at the heart of the Yosemite high country. Here are the caltopo.com images for the last two views above. The first shows from left to right Mt. Simmons, MaClure, Lyell, and Clark.

The second shot shows Mt. Clark, Gray Peak, and Red Peak.

 

A Day on the California Prairie: Finding the Precious Places Near Home

Yosemite National Park is closed. The coastline is closed. The state parks are closed. Am I complaining? Not in the least. We are facing an unprecedented threat, so we must curtail our freedoms a bit until the scientists and the doctors (and all of their heroic support staff from nurses to foodworkers to custodians) can do their work protecting us. And we must continue to do our part, isolating ourselves from each other, and from the virus itself. I pray that you are able to stay healthy and safe, and if tragedy strikes, that you find peace in some way.

In the meantime, there are a few legal ways to maintain sanity. Exercising in isolation from others near home is one way. If the city parks are crowded, find a deserted road on the edge of town to walk along. It is a way that we can find the precious and undiscovered treasures that have always been just outside our towns. As it turns out, some treasures are ephemeral, lasting only a few weeks.

My town lies on the edge on one of the few remaining largely untouched prairies left in California. These prairies used to extend across the entire Great Valley, but agricultural development has displaced 95% of the grasslands. There are a series of wildlife refuges up and down the valley that protect some of the remaining wildlands or rehabilitated farmlands. The rest of the prairie tends to be found on the margins, in the foothills of the surrounding mountains where the soils are too thin to support agricultural development.

The rainfall this year has been perilously low, with not a drop in the entire month of February. But March and April saw a resurgence in precipitation and the drying sprouts reawakened, and flowers have appeared in abundance throughout the Sierra Nevada foothills.

We took a drive through the prairie that remains between the Tuolumne and Stanislaus Rivers, and were treated with an explosion of color. I'd love to say I was an expert botanist and tell you all the species, but beyond lupines and poppies, my knowledge of flowers is sadly lacking. What I enjoyed today was the profusion of color.

We are living in one of the most challenging times many of us will ever experience short of all-out war. Natural disasters horribly affect particular regions, but there is always help from elsewhere, and there are places of retreat and refuge if an earthquake or hurricane strikes. But this one is a worldwide viral attack, and all we can do is shelter in place until it passes. It's scary, it's dangerous, and many are suffering. I hope there are a few moments of peace and serenity to be found here in these little treasures close to home.

Here's a Pretty Puzzle...What are These Trees Doing Here? An Evening at Calaveras Big Trees

When the trees were discovered by people of European descent in the 1850s, few believed the stories of their immense size. There were of legends and tall tales emerging from the explorations of the American West, but trees that towered 300 feet high with diameters of 35 feet just seemed beyond the pale. Eventually promoters stripped the bark off one of the really big ones, took the pieces to an exhibition back east and reconstructed the tree. Many still considered it a hoax anyway.

The poor tree that was stripped still stands today, a dead snag in the Sequoia Grove at Calaveras Big Trees State Park in the northern Sierra Nevada along Highway 4. I didn't get images of that tree, but there were plenty of other living ones to enjoy. We were there the other day on a lark. We had a couple of hours to see the sinking sun and lengthening shadows in the forest before a late dinner in Angels Camp.

The Sequoia Trees (Sequoiadendron gigantea) are an enigma. They exist today only in a series of 65 individual groves scattered across mainly the southern Sierra Nevada. They are relatives of the Coast Redwoods, and the Dawn Redwood of China, a tree that existed in a single grove which was only scientifically described in the 1940s. Yet the trees have existed since the age of the dinosaurs and were once distributed widely across the northern hemisphere. Their Sierra home is their last refuge. About half the original Sequoia trees were cut down prior to receiving protection, but because the wood was brittle and tended to shatter, they only found use as grape stakes and the like. Nearly all the remaining trees are protected, either in Sequoia/Kings Canyon National Park, Yosemite National Park, or Giant Sequoia National Monument.

Aside from human attack, they are not easily killed. Their bark is thick and lacks easily burnable sap so most wildfires don't hurt them (high burning "crown" fires are an important exception). The bark is thick, keeping them safe from insect attack. The trees are thought capable of living more than 3,000 years. Their greatest liability is a shallow root system that lacks a large taproot, so they can topple on uneven slopes or during intense windstorms.

The cool mystery about these trees is the one of their biogeography. How did they get to where they are today, and how did they survive when most of their closest relatives did not? Calaveras Big Trees is an even greater mystery, along with a small grove in Placer County consisting of a mere six mature trees. Looking at the map below, one can see their isolation from the others of their species, more than fifty miles of deep gorges and canyons.

At least one part of the explanation is clear. They migrated over the Sierra Nevada crest. Every time I say that I envision the gigantic trees walking like some of Tolkien's Ents, but it is better to see them as propagating along pathways where seeds could thrive and grow. This would be impossible with the present day Sierra, given the crest topping out at elevations over 10,000 feet. But the Sierra Nevada is a young mountain range, and it's probably only been a few million years since the range rose and tilted to the west (opinions on this scenario, it should be noted, vary). The trees that once thrived across Nevada had an uninterrupted slope towards the west. As the mountains continued to rise, they cut off the precipitation into Nevada's Basin and Range Province, turning the region into the semi-arid and desert environment that it is today.

Perhaps the main factor in the decline of the Sequoia trees across the hemisphere was the Pleistocene Ice Ages. A dozen times or more the ice advanced and receded across the northern parts of the continents and in the high mountains. The habitat for the trees was simply erased across much of the former range and the trees couldn't propagate quickly enough to escape the ice. In the Sierra Nevada, however, the unique geography, the westward tilted block of rock, probably saved the trees. When conditions grew colder, the seeds could propagate in soils lower on the westward slopes, and when the ice receded, they could propagate uphill.

Still, one has to wonder what the Calaveras grove is doing here, fifty miles north of their relatives in Yosemite National Park (who are in turn fifty miles north of the bulk of the Sequoia groves). And those six mature trees in Placer County? How have they survived? For the record, there were historically eight trees, but two fell in 1862. It's a pleasant mystery to contemplate as one wanders through the two beautiful groves at Calaveras.