A Most Misunderstood Island: One of the Most Diverse Landscapes on Earth

Shall we start with a stereotypical Hawaiian beach?

One can certainly be forgiven for thinking that Hawai'i is a group of high-rise hotels next to a wide sandy beach. It isn't as if a string of television shows (Magnum, P.I. and Hawaii 5-0 for example) have spent decades putting that stereotype into our heads. And the majority of tourists never venture beyond the hotel row at Waikiki and Honolulu. A visit to some of the other islands can be a real revelation (and adventure). The Hawaiian Islands, and especially the Big Island, are one of the most diverse landscapes on planet Earth.

The view from Pu'u Huluhulu at Saddle Road summit

Not convinced? Here is a selection of pictures taken over just two days of reconnaissance on the Big Island. How about an African savanna? A lone Koa tree (I think, I'm still learning these!) overlooks the plains along the summit of Saddle Road, a highway that links the two sides of the island. There are even grazing cattle, sheep, pigs, and goats (which are doing terrible things to the natural ecosystems).

Perhaps an archaeological site in the wilds of the Sinai Desert? The great heiaus on the Big Island served a variety of purposes, including refuges, sacrificial sites, and temples. They date back hundreds of years. This one can be seen at Pu'ukohola Heiau National Historical Site on the dry side of the island in the rain shadow of the Kohala volcano. Rainfall averages less than 20 inches a year, compared to more than a hundred just a few miles away.

A recovering mesic coastal forest? Not a desert, not a rainforest, but somewhere in-between (mostly on the dry side) We are looking at the Lapakahi State Historical Park on the west slope of Kohala. The original forest was cut down for a number of reasons, but humans lived in this village for hundreds of years.

How about the high plains prairie? One of the largest privately owned ranches in the United States is found on the Big Island (the Parker Ranch). The cattle graze on rich grasslands that cover some of the older volcanoes. When they reach the right age, they fly in a 747 to the mainland. As a guide to Hawaii mentions, they probably enjoy more foot room than the average tourist in coach...

 As can be seen, some of the grasslands are windy.

Big Sur on the Big Island? Sure. This Big Island is not as famed for the coastal cliffs like those in Kaua'i and Molokai, but several tens of thousands of years ago, a large part of the northern coastline of the island collapsed into the sea. It probably produced a mega-tsunami in the local islands that had run-ups amounting to hundreds of feet in elevation.The Pololu Valley and coast is stunning.

The Pololu coast is also known for the gorgeous river valleys that extend into the Kohala volcano ("gorgeous"; Did you get it?). The canyons are hundreds of feet deep, and were once even deeper, but the islands are slowly sinking and the valleys fill with sediment.

I doubt that Sauron would have ever established Mordor in a place like this. These a'a lava flows from Mauna Loa are only a few decades old, and are practically impossible to traverse. Somehow a highway got built across part of it, and there is even a strange housing complex in the immediate vicinity. The few trees are the native Ohi'a, a tree that can grow from coastal environments to as high as 10,000 feet or so. I don't believe there is another tree on the planet that can do that.

And how about glacial environments? Yes, Hawai'i had glaciers during the Ice Ages! The top of Mauna Kea was mantled with flowing ice only a few thousand years ago. There are glacial moraines, and even a small lake that is the third highest in United States. Eruptions happening in the ice produced a glassy form of basalt that was much harder than normal, so the native Hawaiians would climb to the summit of the mountain to gather the rock for tool-making.

And finally, yes, there are rainforests! Beautiful green forests filled with rare and endemic plants found nowhere else on the planet. Don't tell anyone about this, but I see scenes like this and think of the Jungle Cruise at Disneyland! But these forests are real.

There are even more ecosystems and biomes on the island that we just didn't happen to see on our short excursions. Expect to see some more as the week progresses. We've got two more weeks on the islands, and lots of exploring to do!

An Important Island in Southern California Gains Permanent Protection

San Gorgonio and the San Bernardino Mountains from the vicinity of Idyllwild

There's an island in Southern California. There are lots of islands, actually, and some, like Catalina and the Channel Islands, are famous. They are also surrounded by water. This island is a bit different. Instead of water, the island is surrounded  by lowlands and urban development. The island is the San Bernardino Mountains, one of several mountain ranges that form a ring around the Los Angeles Basin and Inland Empire.

 The range includes the tallest mountain in Southern California, San Gorgonio Peak (11,499 feet), and a high alpine ridge that has a dozen or so peaks exceeding 10,000 in height. It has the southernmost aspen grove in North America, and evidence of the southernmost glaciers (even a few small glacial lakes). The ruggedness of the range has precluded the kinds of developments and "improvements" that have spoiled many other beautiful places. The Whitewater River, with its headwaters near San Gorgonio Peak, flows a vertical distance of two miles to the desert floor, unimpeded by dams or other developments. Few such rivers are left in the state (it's probably fair to say that a dam would have been foolhardy, as the river crosses the San Andreas fault, and engineering would be very...iffy).

Photo by Mrs. Geotripper

The mountain range is a treasure. In my youth, I honed my hiking and camping skills in these mountains, and from them I learned to love topographic maps. It pains me that I don't have digital images of the sights I saw in these peaks forty years ago when I regularly backpacked in and out of the canyons and across the mountaintops. One of my most vivid teenage memories is a hike I took into the headwaters of the North Fork of the Whitewater River. The camp was on a terrace above the creek, and there was an expansive view eastward into the desert around Palm Springs. As the sun set, we could see thunderheads rising in the far distance, and the nighttime was punctuated with flashes of lightning. I had never felt so isolated in my life, and that is not a common feeling for the people of SoCal. It was exhilarating, and I loved every moment.

Source: National Park Service

I want to tell a story. The Channel Islands off the coast of Southern California were once much larger. This was because of the lowering of sea level by the glacial ice ages at various times during the last two million years (so much water was locked up in ice on land worldwide that sea level dropped several hundred feet). The islands were never actually connected to the mainland, but the distance between them was much less than it is today. Somewhere in that stretch of time, a herd of Columbia Mammoths (or a pregnant one) was panicked into the ocean surf (or perhaps they smelled food on the islands), and they (or it) swam the 5 or 6 miles to the island. Elephants come equipped with a snorkel; they're good swimmers. They thrived on the island, but the ice age ended. Sea level rose, first shrinking the size of the island, and then dividing it into four much smaller islands. Food became scarce. The mammoths continued to produce offspring, but it was only the smaller animals that could survive in the restricted environment. They could get by on less. Because the runts survived, they were the most successful at passing on their genes. The Columbian Mammoths, some of whom stood as tall as 14 feet at the shoulder, got smaller.

Source: U.S. Geological Survey, via http://www.livescience.com/48393-pygmy-mammoths-channel-islands.htmls

And smaller. Eventually, a race of pygmy mammoths (Mammuthus exilis) evolved. Some of the adults stood no higher than 7 feet at the shoulder, and weighed one ton, instead as much as ten. Eventually though, even small size wasn't enough. They became extinct about 12,000 years ago.

There is a lesson here, of course. All good stories have them. The environment that supported the mammoths became smaller and more limited, inexorably, until it was strained beyond recovery. The animals disappeared, and we are today deprived of what must have been a fascinating creature. Think about what has happened to Southern California in the last century. The population has expanded to tens of millions of people, and the wild lands that surround the urban valleys have become smaller and more isolated. The ecosystem is breaking down, as animals are no longer able to cross urban corridors to find others of their kind. They retreat farther into their shrinking habitats, and populations plummet. If there is no intervention, they will simply disappear. The bighorn sheep, mountain lions, bears, foxes, and condors will all be gone.

But this post is not pessimistic. Far from it. This is about a piece of tremendously good news that came to pass this week. For years, California Senator Feinstein has been promoting the idea of several national monuments or parks in Southern California. The political gridlock in Congress has prevented anything from being done, but President Obama has used his authority under the National Antiquities Act to declare three new national monuments. Two of them are in the Mojave Desert, in the Castle Mountains, and in the landscape between Joshua Tree National Park and the Mojave National Preserve. The third, Snow to Sand National Monument, brings protection to the highest ridges of the San Bernardino Mountains to the desert floor at Morongo, and even more importantly, linking the mountains to Joshua Tree National Park. This has the effect of bringing permanent protection to a very scenic wilderness area, but even more importantly, producing an intact ecosystem that will give declining wildlife populations a fighting chance to survive, especially as our global climate warms up.

By preserving an unbroken habitat from just above sea level to 11,499 feet, there were be room for upward migration of animal and plant species as the lower levels become hotter and drier. Few places in the world offer such a range of available habitats. There is so little left, so I'm glad to see these efforts to protect such a fascinating region. The mountains of my youth!

A Scarred and Beaten Ecosystem Persists: The Native Species of the Great Valley

I live in an extraordinary place! In my last post on the Great Valley I was discussing our use and abuse of our most precious resource, one of the richest soils on the planet. Some 95% of the original ecosystem has been manipulated by humans to achieve the highest biomass production possible. Our burgeoning population has to eat after all, and the amount of arable lands is declining worldwide, not expanding. I also posted a number of photographs that intimated what the Great Valley might have looked like prior to 200 or so years ago when European colonists began twisting the landscape to their desires. The valley must have been a fascinating sight in all seasons!

Cedar Waxwing (Bombycilla cedrorum). For more pictures of these beautiful birds, check out my post at Geotripper's California Birds.

Since arriving home after nearly two weeks of extensive travels, I finally had a chance to get out and check my walking routes, around the pasture near my home, and out by the "mini-wilderness" on the west campus of Modesto Junior College. We also stole a moment from our errands today and watched the sun set at the Beckwith unit of the San Joaquin National Wildlife Refuge, which has a viewing platform just eight miles west of town. There had been a lot of changes in the two weeks as a number of migrant species had arrived, including especially the Cedar Waxwings (above).

Nuttall's Woodpecker (Picoides nuttallii), a California endemic species.

Walking through my normal haunts, I was struck once more with a realization about the scarred and embattled ecosystem I live in. There are survivors of the apocalypse still living among us. Like a war zone, there are vast areas of destruction, and little enclaves where the native species still hang on. Sometimes it is in stretches of woodland along rivers where the ground was too uneven to plow. In other instances, the alien invaders happened to plant ornamental trees that produce just enough berries or fruits that the natives can thrive. In a few precious localities, the alien invaders set aside larger environments from abandoned farmlands (partly so they could hunt the natives species, but that's the Faustian bargain that had to be made). In any case, the walks and observations this week for some reason included no Pigeons, Starlings, or House Sparrows, all of whom are opportunistic alien species. The birds I saw were the native species that had found a way to survive in this new alien world. There was a Nuttall's Woodpecker, a California endemic (when one includes a portion of Baja California, anyway). It was hunting for insects on fenceposts instead of trees.

Yellow-billed Magpie (Pica nuttalli):  More on this California endemic can be seen in this post.

There was a small flock of Yellow-billed Magpies in the pasture. These striking birds are a wholly Californian endemic species, found only in our Great Valley. They were almost wiped out by the West Nile virus, but they are slowly making a comeback.

Western Bluebird (Sialia mexicana)

I see the Western Bluebirds on occasion throughout the winter and spring. I think they migrate up into the Sierra Nevada during the summer. 

Western Scrub Jay (Aphelocoma californica)

The Western Scrub Jay is a perennial visitor to the feeders in my backyard. They've done well in relation to agricultural development, especially with nut trees, as can be seen above. They'll often make noise on our roof as they peck at pecans (and a number have taken root in our yard after pecans being left behind by the jays)

Oak Titmouse (Baeolophus inornatus) on a west campus oak tree.

Another more-or-less California endemic is the Oak Titmouse (Baeolophus inornatus). It ranges a little into Baja California and Oregon. The acre or so of oak trees in the "mini-wilderness" provides them a bit of valley habitat in our area.

Sooty Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca unalaschcensis)

Finally, there is a Sooty Fox Sparrow (Passerella iliaca unalaschcensis) that I discovered Tuesday on the west campus of my school. I'm new at this birding business and so was not used to searching the leaf litter for what I always thought were House Sparrows. The Sooty is one of four subspecies of Fox Sparrows. The number and variety of American sparrows is incredible, and is a startling picture of ongoing evolution in action.

It's inspiring to find that some hint or echo of the Great Valley's natural heritage still survives here and there, especially when it is a short walking distance from home or work. More than anywhere else, though, the glory of the ancient days still lives on in the federal bird refuges that line our valley like a string of pearls. Last night we saw a sky filled with migratory birds, thousands of them, who still have a winter home on part of the valley floor (see the video at the top of the post). These are places that should be protected and cherished, and not criticized because they take up some of the water in these hard drought years. Although I understand farmer resentment in such situations, the total water devoted to wildlife survival is no doubt a small percentage of the total utilized, and I'd rather see a healthy population of native birds over an additional field of cabbage or corn.

An Encounter with Canis Lupus

It's been a long time since Geotripper has been posting...I've been on a long trip through the Pacific Northwest and Northern Rocky Mountains with my students, and I had exactly no times during the trip when I could access a computer. Smart phones are great for posting twitter notes and facebook updates, but by and large I've been experiencing life outside the cyber-universe. It was SCARY!

OK, not really, but what a trip we had! The students were great, the volunteers (bless them all!) made the trip run smoothly, and the weather cooperated, uh, sorta. Look for an exploration of our travels over the next few weeks.

One of the great moments I had was not really geology-related, but it brought me closer to the landscape than just about any other experience on the journey. If one visits a place like Yellowstone, one is seeing the American landscape in a state that most closely resembles the ecosystem that existed prior to the arrival of Europeans in this country. The last herd of bison in the entire country found refuge here, the grizzly bear still roams largely unimpeded, and numerous other animals can be seen out in the open instead of in cages. There can sometimes be a Disney-like atmosphere as tourists stop in animal-related traffic jams, but sometimes the moments are a bit more contemplative.

Our group got separated for a few minutes, and when the missing van reappeared, they reported that we really wanted to backtrack up the road and see what was going on. We headed back up the highway, and looked for the thing in the meadow that we were supposed to see. I laid down in the grass and waited. In the telephoto, all I could see was a raven.

Then, something was approaching from the right, which I took at first to be a bear, but instead, it was a wolf, walking up the other side of the snow-swollen creek. It was the first one I've ever seen. The wolf suddenly turned and crossed the river, and faced down the raven, which was feeding on the carrion that was clearly lying in the meadow. It was obviously the wolf's kill.

The raven clearly knew it was outmatched, and retreated quickly.

The wolf settled down for another meal (look at that fat belly!). Can you tell why I thought it was a bear at first?

He finished his latest meal, and started off.

He was a bit worried that we might want some of his kill, but given that we were about a quarter mile away (these are obviously extreme zoom shots), he didn't see us as much of a threat.

A bit further up the hill, he checked us out one more time...

...and disappeared into the forest...

The folks from the other van reported that the wolf they saw was silvery or white. We are guessing that we were looking at a family unit, and that they were feeding some pups up in a den nearby. Who knows?

It was a wonderful moment to see some of these last examples of the North American megafauna living in their world where they are not harassed by hunters or poachers. The wolves were reintroduced to the park a number of years ago, putting back in place a jigsaw puzzle of creatures large and small that interact as they did long before humans arrived on the continent. Yellowstone is only a fragment of the original forest biome, almost like a zoo, but it is a very big zoo, and it is as wild as any place in the lower 48 states. Most of the park is wilderness, and the animals we tourists saw just happened to be on the edge.

Another moment on the trip was a bit embarrassing for me, and will probably become one of the department legends. We were leaving our campsite at Glacier National Park, and I really wanted to see a bear. I really did. We were approaching the St. Mary Visitor Center, and I saw the bears! They were hanging out in the meadow by the river. I got on the CB and told the vans to stop and get their cameras. We were looking at the animals out there, and there were a few ahems, and finally one of the students said "Mr. Hayes, I don't think those are bears..."

Oh well, click on the photo to enlarge, and judge for yourself...

Did you know that bears and dogs share a common ancestor? So in a sense, I sorta saw a bear "type" out in that meadow. I did see one grizzly on the trip, for a split second at the edge of my peripheral vision as I drove past an animal jam, but I guess I'll just have to go back when I have more time...