A Tale of Two Pullouts: Yosemite Valley From a Different Angle

El Capitan and the Merced River from the east

I know that I am truly privileged living as I do only a two-hour drive from one of the most sublime places on Earth, Yosemite Valley and the Sierra Nevada. We head up there two or three times a year, sometimes with students in tow, and sometimes on our own, so in 30+ years we've been there at least 100 times.

And I never get tired of it.

Part of the allure is seeing the seasonal changes. Winter provides the coating of snow, while fall provides the changing colors of foliage. Spring offers surging waterfalls and wild river flows. Summer provides...well...crowds, but also nice moments in places we learn of where the crowds can be avoided. We have favorite meadows and lakes for instance where people rarely stop. No matter when or where we visit, there always seems to be something new or different.

The Cathedral Spires are tucked away on the east side of the Cathedral Rocks at Bridalveil Falls

I know how it is if one gets to see Yosemite Valley for the first, and maybe only time. I've had that experience at so many other places around the world. The time available may be very limited, one may be part of a tightly controlled tour, and no one wants to miss any of the most famous views or hikes. And so it is that there is the required stop at Tunnel View, Bridalveil Falls, Cook's Meadow for the view of Yosemite Falls, and maybe Ahwahnee Meadow for a view of Half Dome. The walk to Lower Yosemite Falls, or Nevada Falls. And the Visitor Center. It makes for a full day, and a fulfilling day too. One of the most spectacular days you might ever experience.

And I never get tired of it. I'm perfectly happy to hit those same spots on my 101st trip to the valley. The season, the time of day, and the weather all conspire to make each stop a unique experience of wonder. But sometimes there are changes of a different nature, and that makes some trips really memorable. That is what today's collection of views is about.

Sentinel Rock rises above the south side of Yosemite Valley across from Yosemite Falls

Since the time that Yosemite Valley became a park, suppression of all forest fires has been the official policy. It was not however the natural condition of the parkland, nor was it the normal condition of the valley floor over the last few thousand years when it was managed by the original inhabitants of the region. 

The Ahwahnechee people, with roots among the Miwok and Paiute peoples of both sides of the Sierra, depended in large part on the acorns of the Black Oak and grazing animals like deer or bighorn in Yosemite Valley. It was in their best interest over the centuries to allow fires to burn through the valley floor and hold the quick-growing conifers at bay. When the park administrators put an end to the fires, the pine and cedar trees choked out meadows (only 65 acres of the original 750 acres of meadows remain) and grew into impenetrable thickets, blocking views of the canyon walls above.

What's worse is that choking off small fires can cause a buildup of fuel in the forest that could only lead to much worse fires than usual. This was always a danger, but it is far more hazardous today in a time of warming climate and extended droughts. Every Californian is fully aware of how wildfires in the state have morphed into monstrous events without parallel in written history.

The National Park Service has come around in their fire philosophy, especially after extensive fires a few decades ago in Yellowstone and Mesa Verde National Parks. They have instituted new policies of prescribed fires and selective tree removal to make the parks safer, but also to enhance the experiences of park visitors. In what way? The views.

The distinctive profile of the Three Brothers is the result of parallel jointing, or fractures in the granite that occur as the rocks are exposed by erosion

There are the parking lots that attract the majority of park visitors, but on the roads that loop around the valley there are many small pullouts, enough for perhaps three or four cars. In years past there seemed no real purpose for them, as they were surrounded by thick forest and offered no views or trailheads. On our visit a week ago, I found that two of those previously uninteresting pullouts had had the forest thinned out, and that they now possessed some outrageously spectacular views! The familiar iconic cliffs were there, but from angles I had never really seen before. In particular there was the long vertical cliff extending east from El Capitan, a view of the rarely seen Cathedral Spires (as opposed to the Cathedral Rocks at Bridalveil Falls), the vertical pillar of Sentinel Rock (often missed by people staring at Yosemite Falls), and the Three Brothers, which have never really had a designated viewpoint and are usually hidden by the tall trees. Upper Yosemite Fall was visible as well, perhaps farther away, but how many of you Yosemite veterans can recall seeing the falls with not a single other person in sight?

Yosemite Falls from a pullout west of Swinging Bridge

We had a leisurely lunch at the pullouts and wandered about taking pictures, and only two or three cars pulled off the road, and no one else actually got out. Except for the noise of passing traffic on a crowded Sunday afternoon, we literally had the best of Yosemite Valley to ourselves.

Prescribed fire in Yosemite Valley, with Half Dome and Clouds Rest in the distance.

We stayed at the park through Monday morning, and when we stopped by Tunnel View we witnessed another chapter in the new fire/forest regime: the ignition of a prescribed fire. It was done in March because the ground was still damp enough to prevent the uncontrolled spread of the fire. If you are on Facebook and would like to know more about forest management in Yosemite, check out (1) Yosemite Fire and Aviation | Facebook.

Yosemite Valley This Week: A Moment of Spring Richness and an Uncertain Future

 

I admit it. I fear what lies ahead. That's not the usual opening statement in a photo-essay of Yosemite Valley at its best moments. But that's the problem. I was there last week, when the heaviest snowmelt should have been weeks in the future. And the valley was at its best, a lovely escape from the summer-like heat of the Great Valley downstream.

But the peak runoff is not weeks in the future. It is probably already past. This year's snowpack was an unmitigated disaster. The few storms that did come dropped a bit of snow, enough in some years to get by, but very warm and dry conditions during April dropped the snowpack to around 5-10% of normal, or what passes for normal in these uncertain times. The snowpack would usually keep the famous waterfalls busy until mid-June or even July, but many of them may be dry within a few short weeks. And then the fires will come. I don't know what lies ahead for this most beautiful of valleys, but a disastrous fire has to be considered as a possibility.

The natural condition of the floor of Yosemite Valley has always been controlled by wildfire. Lightning strikes have caused fires for thousands of years, leaving the valley floor as a patchwork of open meadows with a few mature oaks and ponderosa capable of surviving the occasional grass fires. When humans first discovered the valley thousands of years ago, they continued the practice of burning the valley floor every few years. They had their motives of course; the acorns of the fire-resistant Black Oaks provided much of their diet, and the hunting of game was easier when the prey was in an open meadow rather than a deep forest.

When the valley was "saved" by turning it first into a state park in 1864 and later into a national park in 1890, fire suppression became the governing philosophy. The park's original 745 acres of meadows were invaded by young saplings and the 65 acres of meadows today represents only 7% or so of their original extent. It didn't help that drainage outlet of one of the wetland areas was dynamited to keep down the mosquito population.

Much of the valley floor has become a thicket of young and unhealthy conifer trees, a fire hazard of the highest order. The park service has come around to accept the need for fires in the management of the valley, but their success has been spotty and controversial. Prescribed fires have been done in some areas of the park, but more than one has gotten out of control and damaged structures. And prescribed fires are done when soil and fuel conditions are on the wet side. That is not the case at Yosemite this year.

An alternate practice was begun around a decade ago, and it too has been controversial. Instead of burning, the park service has been allowing tree-cutting to be done in some areas to remove the unhealthy trees. The buzz of chainsaws does not seem compatible with the general notion of "preserving" natural lands, but it may be a necessary evil. It led to an unexpected change for me as we visited the park last week.

Everyone always seems to be in a hurry as they scurry through the park looking for parking spots. The traffic was a problem because the free park shuttles weren't running due to the pandemic. So to see the many features of the valley, one had to park and hike quite some distance, or else drive from parking lot to parking lot looking for a good view. I was letting traffic pass by pulling into roadsides that normally don't offer much in the ways of views. But this time was different.

A lot of trees had been cleared from a pullout that I knew had never had much of a view before. No one else was there, but as I got out I could see something was different. The rocks above were, well, unexpected. I've struggled at times to get an interesting angle on the Cathedral Spires (above), but they were easily visible. And as I turned, I realized the Three Brothers were also in the open (below). 

And as I turned yet again, I had a full-on view of El Capitan that showed the full expanse of the cliff from the "Nose" to Horsetail Falls. The sawn-down trees in the foreground were perhaps a sad mess (that will be cured in time by natural forces of decay), but the view of the cliffs was dramatic and quite unexpected. We sat in the pull-out and enjoyed a quiet lunch.

The Pacific Dogwoods were in full bloom. The trees are a somewhat nondescript part of the understory for much of the year, but during the spring the flowers are dramatic (and for the biologists among you, I know that the big white petals are actually modified leaves or bracts, and that the true flowers are in the "button" in the middle). 

Our journey through the valley was our first in nearly a year. It included a stop at one of the most congested spots, but as is always true, there was a reason for its popularity. The Tunnel View is close to the spot where European colonizers first viewed the valley in 1851. The party, a militia trying to chase down a group of Ahwahnechee people, was largely unimpressed with the valley. But their medic, Lafayette Bunnell, was deeply moved by the sight, and later interviewed Chief Tenaya and others to learn what he could of the valley. He is credited with the names of many of the features, including the name of the valley itself. Yosemite seems to have been a derivative of the Miwok name for Grizzly Bear. Their actual name for the valley was "Ah-wah-nee".

So a hot and dry summer season looms. I hope for the best.

Time Heals All Wounds. Or Does it Just Hide Them? The Ghosts of Nelder Grove (Reposted)

According to news reports, the Railroad Fire in the Sierra Nevada has reached the Nelder Grove of Sequoia Trees. It's uncertain what the outcome will be, as the trees are adapted to wildfires, but less so when the forest surrounding the trees is overgrown and stressed by five years of drought. Nelder is kind of a special grove, having been logged a century ago, and left out of the boundaries of Yosemite National Park. Abused, but precious. I wrote about Nelder when I visited for the first time a couple of years ago. Since it has been in the news, I thought you would like to learn of its threatened beauty. The original post follows...

It's a beautiful place, really. It was one of the most serene places I've been in my travels, away from busy roads, cities, tourist traps, and most of all, crowds. We were only 10 miles from Yosemite National Park on a Sunday afternoon, yet we shared the place today with just six other people, all of whom were quietly looking up as if in a a medieval cathedral.

Sequoia groves are like that. The ancient trees are so big and so tall, so grand, that they seem to inhabit a different universe than "normal" trees. They tower above, like placid gods looking down on their earthly domain. They are the only species in their genus,  Sequoiadendron giganteum. The species, or species very much like it, once grew across the northern hemisphere. Through habitat loss, perhaps related to the ice ages, they disappeared from most of their range. Only on the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada have they survived, living in 68 isolated groves, and numbering only in the few tens of thousands (the more widespread Coast Redwoods of northwest California are related, but are classed in a different genus).

We were walking through a mountain cathedral, marveling at the beauty and size of the incredible trees, but I realized there were ghosts all around us. There were only 16 mature Sequoia trees along the trail we were following, but there were dozens of gigantic stumps. This serene forest was a shadow of its former glory. Someone had cut down these forest giants. According to the Friends of Nelder Grove, the entire grove includes just over 100 mature trees spread over 1,540 acres (2.4 square miles). There are 277 stumps hidden in the shadows. Three quarters of the trees that had survived for 2,000 years or more were cut down in a few decades, between the 1890s and 1920s.

The sad part is that the wood, though resistant to rot, is brittle and was rarely used for anything more substantial than grape stakes and shakes, even toothpicks. As much as 75% of the wood went to waste, as most of the trees shattered when they hit the ground. Loggers would build trenches filled with tree branches for the trees to have a soft landing, but to no avail.

The remaining trees have been protected since the 1920s, but they still face some serious threats. The trees are adapted to fire. Their trunks are very thick and do not readily burn, so the wildfires that would burn through the grove every decade or so would kill off saplings of other trees and clear the forest duff, but would rarely kill the Sequoia trees. The nature of the fires has been changing. The policy of the Forest Service for decades was to suppress fires at all cost, allowing the other conifers like White Fir and Sugar Pine to grow very tall, reaching the lowest branches of the giant Sequoia trees.

Sugar Pines are especially susceptible to catching fire, and the fire rises up the trunk into the crown. Crown fires can kill the Sequoia trees by destroying their foliage. So by protecting the trees from fire, we've made it easier for fire to destroy them. The situation has not been helped by the growing effects of global warming. Ongoing drought has led to super wildfires on a scale never before seen in the Sierra Nevada. Several recent fires burned through 200,000 acres or more.

The deep conifer forests threaten the Sequoia trees in a different way. The seedlings need bare soil and sunny conditions to germinate, but the thick forest instead provides shade and thick forest duff. The remaining ancient giants are not being replaced by young trees, not at a rate fast enough to guarantee the future of the grove.

At least we've reached a point where we know what many of the problems are, and steps (sometimes baby steps) are being made to preserve the future of these incredible trees. In the meantime, the Nelder Grove is a quiet treasure, a beautiful place for meditation.

The Nelder Grove is off of Sky Ranch Road, about 8 miles off of Highway 140 north of Oakhurst, just a few miles from the south entrance of Yosemite National Park. The last two miles of road are unpaved, but the gravel is well-graded. Our walk was along the Shadows of the Giants trail, but there is a network of trails throughout the grove. The Mariposa Grove in Yosemite is presently closed to visitation as the site is being renovated to improve the visitation experience and protect the trees. Of course when it is finished, the grove will still be visited by hundreds of thousands of people yearly. If you want to see a Sequoia grove the way it should be, quiet and uncrowded, check out Nelder. For more information, check out the web pages of the Friends of Nelder Grove, or this Sierra Nevada Geotourism site.

Losing Humanity's Heritage by Fire, But Not From Burning

Mt. Konocti and Clear Lake, an archaeological treasure in Central California

I read this article by Madeleine Thomas in the Pacific Standard, and it was disturbing to say the least. It discusses the looting of archaeological sites in the Clear Lake area, in part by meth addicts. It's truly sad how low some people can go on their life's journey, and meth addiction is one of the worst ways to go. One sometimes wonders if the human wreckage can ever be salvaged, and yet it should be society's highest priority to at least try.

It's the collateral damage to our heritage as human beings that saddened me so deeply as I read more of the article. Huge disastrous wildfires have now become the status quo in California as we enter our fifth year of unprecedented drought. A natural pattern intensified by global warming, the drought has left vast swaths of California brushland and forest vulnerable to fires far more intense, and far more difficult to contain. Three major fires are burning right now, in the Coast Range north of Napa (the Valley Fire), in the Mother Lode east of Jackson (the Butte Fire), and in Kings Canyon (the Rough Fire). More than 450 square miles have burned so far. Between them, the fires have killed five people, destroyed more than 1,000 homes, and we can now look forward to flooding and mudslides if the predicted El Nino weather pattern follows expectations.

The specific problem highlighted in the article is that fire scorched lands can expose archaeological sites. This can be a good thing if the land is protected and patrolled on a regular basis. In Mesa Verde National Park, fires burned something like three-quarters of the park in a decade's time, and several thousand new archaeological sites were discovered in the aftermath. In coming years, these discoveries will provide vast amounts of new information about the Ancestral Puebloan people. It's a treasure, but a protected treasure. Anyone trying to loot sites at Mesa Verde is likely to be apprehended in short order.

California Quail at Clear Lake

Archaeology in California can be far more difficult. The earliest humans in the state didn't make stone houses, so village sites are generally harder to find and assess. In the Coast Ranges and Great Valley where many early groups lived are under private ownership, and in many cases the sites have been deeply altered, for instance by agricultural and urban development.

Clear Lake, north of the Bay Area, is an interesting and little-known part of California. It is the largest natural lake in the state (Lake Tahoe is bigger, but extends into Nevada). It developed because of faulting that formed the lake basin, along with landslides and lava flows that blocked the outlet. Nearby Mt. Konocti (4,305 feet; 1,312 m) is a composite volcano composed primarily of dacite lava that erupted around 350,000 years ago, although the latest eruptions took place only 10,000 years before the present. And people might have been there to see it.

The lake is one of the more important regions for understanding the earliest inhabitants of California. There were a number of good reasons for this. The lava flows in the area provided obsidian for toolmaking. The lake was a secure source of water (and food) even in the most intense droughts. The oak woodlands provided a secure source of food, including the acorns and the animals that consumed the acorns. People have lived in the area for upwards of 11,000-12,000 years, from the end of the last major ice age when Mammoths and Sabertooth Cats still roamed the hills.

Butterfly at Clear Lake

The fires and drought have exposed archaeological sites along the lake shore and in the surrounding hills, and looters have been committing their crimes. It is a felony to plunder an archaeological site, but there is no budget to maintain patrols, and maybe no political will to deal with the underlying problems that lead people to plunder in the first place. I'm enraged that ISIS in the Middle East is systematically destroying the heritage of humanity in Syria and Iraq, but drug addicts and criminals are doing the same thing right here in my own backyard. The despoiled artifacts in the Middle East had at least been studied and documented. Here in California we'll never know what was lost. It's a crying shame.

Strange Skies over the Great Valley Today

Tell me this isn't one of the stranger looking skies you've ever seen. I would have been rather freaked seeing this without having known the origin. It's not clouds.

We were driving home after our latest journey, and could see a wildfire burning on the west side of the Great Valley north of Sacramento. We couldn't get details until we got home, but it turns out to be burning in the Lake Berryessa area, and it's engulfed 4,000 acres so far, and is threatening 150 structures (an update can be found here).

Our usual experience, which we feared would be happening as we approached the smoke plume, is to have the smoke at ground level, leading to impaired visibility and smoke inhalation problems. Instead, something about the weather today kept most of the smoke just above the ground. I suspect the "Delta Breeze", the landward flow of colder denser air from the Sacramento Delta, may have kept the warmer smokier air aloft. That was a relief to us.

I'm not looking forward to the continuing wildfire season. We don't need anymore of this. Word is circulating that we may have a record El Nino condition developing in the western Pacific Ocean, and if it does, the record California drought may break. It's a two-edged sword though. The last strong El Nino in 1997 caused record flooding in the central part of the state.

We crossed the Sacramento River at the Yolo Causeway and emerged from underneath the smoky plume. The skies were again clear and blue (and windy). I found myself wondering if this is what it is like to be living in the path of a volcanic ash eruption. 

Mrs. Geotripper snapped all these pictures. She insisted, since I was driving the car.