This spring is shaping up to be an extraordinary year for wildflowers at Death Valley National Park. There have been a series of wet storms (by Death Valley standards) and they have been spaced in such a way as to provide the best possible conditions for germination and growth of plants. Those who have visited Death Valley under "normal" conditions will have memories of barren rocky alluvial fans, naked slopes of bedrock, and a distinct lack of greenery. That most certainly is not the case this year. The wildflower show has started early, and it is robust.
We were in Death Valley over the weekend for our annual geology field studies trip, and one of our traditional stops is an exposure of the Pahrump Group of rock layers at the base of Jubilee Pass about twenty miles south of Badwater. The rocks record the ripping apart of the ancestral North American Continent around a billion years ago, and they are interesting no matter the season. The black hill is composed of Beck Springs formation, a dolomite deposited in a fault trough under tropical conditions. The orange rocks are the Kingston Peak formation, a rock that includes probable glacial deposits. In a tropical, even equatorial setting. These rocks record what may have been the planet's most intense glacial episode, a period when much of the Earth was covered by glacial ice (it's called the Snowball Earth Hypothesis).
But on Saturday, the hills and slopes were alive with Desert Gold and Verbena. And there were lots of green sprouts, promising even more growth in coming weeks. Officials are suggesting this might be one of the ultra-rare "superblooms" that occur over decades rather than years.
February 2015
Contrast the same spot as it appeared last year at the same time. We found a few flowers hidden in the washes, but clearly there was no explosion of life in that dry year in a place that is drier than anywhere else in North America.
February 2005
I've been privileged to see just a handful of extraordinary growth years. The only one I have digital images from was in 2005. It provides a nice comparison to what is happening in Death Valley right now. That year was a real challenge as we faced heavy rain and wind for most of the trip. The portrait below illustrates my morning observations that year. I'm thankful that we had perfect weather this last weekend.
I'm hoping to make a special trip out there in a few weeks to see how things are progressing.
I wandered past our department seismometer (at Modesto Junior College in central California), and noticed some disturbances that didn't look like the record of students jumping up and down. They indeed turned out to be a pair of moderate earthquakes of magnitude 4.8 and 4.3 with an epicenter about 7 miles (10 kms) WNW of Big Pine, a small village in the Owens Valley east of the Sierra Nevada. A 4.8 magnitude can be a pretty sharp jolt, but this is a sparsely populated area, so I don't expect to hear of much in the way of damage.
The epicenter is just north of the Palisades Group of peaks on the eastern boundary of Kings Canyon National Park. They are the snowy glaciated peaks in the picture above. Big Pine is just to the left of the picture on the valley floor.
4.8 magnitude main shock
The fault that produced the quake shows right lateral strike slip motion. This means that the two sides of the fault moved sideways relative to each other, with the southwest side of the fault moving northwest. Since the Owens Valley is a fault graben, one might assume that the fault motion should have been vertical, i.e. lifting the mountains or dropping the valley, but the Sierra Nevada as a structural block is moving northwest relative to the rest of the continent, so this quake is consistent with that motion.
The regional is seismically active. One of California's great historical earthquakes had an epicenter a short ways to the south at Lone Pine. The 1872 event had a magnitude estimated to be as high as 7.9. The quake killed 27 people, nearly a tenth of the population of the village at the time. Ground ruptures extended from Owens Lake to north of Big Pine.
The 4.3 magnitude aftershock
Our seismometer is a simple classroom instructional model (from Wards Scientific), but we get good results with local quakes of moderate magnitude, and larger quakes worldwide.
There will be plenty more coming up, but here is just a taste of what it is like in Death Valley National Park right now. The pattern and amount of rainfall in the park has been a "perfect storm(s)" to bring about an astounding wildflower show. We spent last weekend in the park, and although the flowers were incredible, the green sprouts suggests there will be much, much more in coming weeks. I haven't seen a flower show like this since I began blogging in 2008. In 28 years of February visits, I recall only 2005 and 1998 being comparable for early blooms. I'm looking forward to sharing more (plus some geology too!) in coming posts once I've had time to unpack and relax a bit.
A Meadowlark is singing in the breeze...it's early February in California which actually means that spring is practically here. In other places, biplanes are spraying pesticides and fungicides, beekeepers are setting out hives in the almond groves, and fields are being plowed and readied for planting. About 95% of the floor of the California's Great Valley is being readied for crop production, with some hopes that the larger snowpack will allow irrigation allotments for the first time in a number of years.
But not here. I spent the afternoon on a deserted road that traveled around the Tule Elk habitat at the San Luis National Wildlife Refuge. Nothing human was happening here. On this old floodplain of the San Joaquin River the native grasses were sprouting bright green shoots, and the elk were grazing in the distance. The Salt Slough was flowing, and the water was uncharacteristically clean. Dozens of Meadowlarks were singing their alluring songs, and numerous hawks, the Red-shouldered, the Red-tails, and Harriers were patrolling, looking for ground squirrels emerging from their burrows.
Tule Elk at San Luis. There were just two left in the 1880s
On this small patch of valley floor, environmental managers of the Fish and Wildlife Service are trying to restore a bit of the valley to something that resembles the land the once provided food and shelter to millions upon millions of birds, mammals, reptiles, amphibians and many others. The Great Valley was once America's Serengeti Plains, one of the richest wildlife habitats on the planet.
Black-necked Stilts
I haven't said much about the criminal drama that unfolded last month at the Malheur National Wildlife Refuge. I was waiting for some kind of resolution. Four of the terrorists are still holding out at the refuge wondering where all their brave "patriot" friends are, so the situation remains unresolved. But sixteen of the gun-toting thugs are under indictment, and LaVoy Finicum lies dead in the ground, a self-appointed "suicide by cop". Some people are calling him a patriot and a martyr. I call him a common criminal who ran a roadblock and then tried to draw a gun on law enforcement officers.
I believe it is a juvenile Red-tailed Hawk
This isn't opinion, this point of view is a matter of law. People decided to take up arms against a duly elected representative government and tried to effect political change with guns. These were criminal acts that followed years of threats and intimidation. These people can try to pretend they were following some bizarre interpretation of the Constitution, but the Constitution makes clear that the powers of government do not lie in the hands of people with guns trying to steal public land for their own private use.
Grasslands at San Luis. Brewers Blackbirds in the tree in the distance.
I'm not sure these people even understand the principle of civil disobedience that brought about the Civil Rights Act and the Voting Rights Act. In that era people broke the law on purpose, but they expected to be arrested and were ready to be imprisoned to bring about legal changes in the country. They didn't carry heavy weaponry and threaten to kill public officials. They instead paid a heavy price themselves, even to the point of death in too many cases.
A Loggerhead Shrike
But most of all, I'm enraged that these people think that they somehow deserve unfettered free access to land they have no claim to. The states of the American West ceded control of these lands as a condition of statehood. They received trust lands as part of statehood, and almost without exception those state lands are wasted, denuded, and closed to public access (read the story here from High Country News). The efforts of the federal government to administer the remaining public lands has been a patchwork of success and failure, but on the whole there is a recognition that these lands belong to all of us, and should be treated that way. Sometimes the use involves resource extraction and profits for certain groups and corporate entities, but much involves the public good.
Salt Slough, a tributary to the San Joaquin River
Private landowners are often responsible and are responsive to efforts to preserve part of their holdings for wildlife. But they can't be expected to understand and act on the fact that their portion of the landscape is a small piece of a wildlife network with connections from the far northern Arctic to the tip of South America. Only the federal government can do this, and its role in wildlife management is both legal and supported by the vast majority of the citizens of our country. Only the federal government can provide protection for the breeding grounds of migratory geese and cranes in the far north and at the same time provide wintering grounds in California and other parts of the southwestern states. Only they can provide resting places for the birds at refuges between the two extremes of the migratory routes. And only the federal government can enter into diplomatic agreements to protect animals whose migratory pathways carry them over international borders.
Great Blue Heron on Salt Slough
Federal management of grazing lands has not been perfect, but there are many examples of cooperation between different stakeholders in the debate. The vast majority of ranchers are law-abiding citizens. But those who decide to take up arms against the government must be dealt with proportionately. Anyone who threatens the life of another, and acts on that threat needs to be in prison, and their weapons taken away. The moment these criminals brandished guns they lost their place at the table.
Double-crested Cormorants
It was a beautiful day today at the San Luis National Wildlife Refuge. I could wander over the grasslands and imagine how this valley once was. So much has been lost, but much still remains, and it was both a privilege and a right to be there on this really early "spring" day. I salute those who work at these refuges and who are fighting to do the right thing, sometimes in the face of threats and intimidation. Thank you for the good work that you do.
Beaver or Muskrat?
The San Luis National Wildlife Refuge protects the floodplain of the San Joaquin River between Turlock and Los Banos in California's Great Valley. There is an excellent visitor center, and a number of available auto tours and hiking trails. For more information, check out their web page: http://www.fws.gov/refuge/san_luis/.
Living in California's Great Valley has moments. Some good, some bad. It's really flat, and that isn't of much interest to a geologist (except the drilling kind). But on some days, when the storms have blown through, and the wind has pushed all of the smog and dust to other places, the valley is beautiful. The best days are when the snow-covered Sierra Nevada are visible in the east.
Some intense contrast brings out the mountains in the distance. This is about how Half Dome appears to the naked eye
I live directly west of Yosemite Valley, and the question has come up now and then whether Half Dome, the iconic rock of Yosemite, is visible from the valley floor. Half Dome rises 4,000 feet above Yosemite Valley, dominating the local view. But it is surprising to some to find that it is surrounded by peaks of equal or greater elevation, and as such, it is not easy to see from the floor of the Great Valley. But it is possible, if you are in the right spot...and have binoculars or a camera with a good zoom lens.
We start zooming in...the snow covered dome of Half Dome is dead center.
That spot is a narrow corridor that runs southwest from Denair through Turlock to Patterson. It's in this location because Yosemite Valley is angled in a southwest direction, providing a gun-sight towards the Central Valley. There are a handful of other spots, but this is the easiest to find. I was out at the junction of Keyes and Hickman Roads this afternoon, and although it was hazy, I was able to pick out the dome from the surrounding peaks. To see it in these photos took a lot of contrast and manipulation (but not of the Photoshop kind!)
Half Dome at 120x zoom. Note the mountains behind Half Dome.
The issue arose today because of the absolutely glorious day we had yesterday. A sharp-eyed employee at StanEmergency in downtown Modesto took a photograph of the gorgeous skyline, and in the center of the photograph was a prominent peak that looked a heck of a lot like Half Dome. He or she posted the photo on Facebook (here), and it quickly garnered more than a thousand likes, 800 shares, and more than a hundred comments. I had to do a double take, because that peak was unusual looking. Very Half-Dome-like, so to speak.
I was a little surprised, because I knew the peaks behind Half Dome are much higher, and that Half Dome shouldn't be so prominent from this angle. I had managed to get a shot of the same peak from my neck of the woods in Waterford the same day. I hit the maps, and asked for suggestions from Geotripper readers in my last post (this one). I got a good tip from twoeightnine, who suggested it might be Mount Clark, which would be almost exactly behind Half Dome from the perspective of Modesto.(UPDATE: Almost immediately after I posted this, another commentator, Lucas Wilkinson, posted this from CalTopo that shows that the peak in question is Volunteer Peak, not Clark. I was looking in the wrong direction!)
Mount Clark is 11,522 feet (3,512 meters), almost 3,000 feet higher than Half Dome, and it has a steep northern flank that could easily mistaken for the shape of Yosemite's iconic rock (EDIT: Unfortunately I don't have any closeups of Volunteer Peak!).
Visitors who get out of Yosemite Valley and travel to Glacier Point are treated to spectacular view of the peak. It is a spectacular mountain, a marvelous example of a glacially carved horn, surrounded by glacial cirques, the bowl shaped valleys where glaciers originated (EDIT: If only I'd been right! But Clark is a pretty mountain).
It's really something that so many people took an interest in their geologic surroundings. And it was so nice to have such a dramatically clear day. We could use more of them. And thanks to StanEmergency for posting a great picture and mystery project!
Actually, I want your help here. I don't know the peak with the vertical flank on the right side of the picture above. I took this shot yesterday from near the intersection of Wellsford and Milnes Roads between Modesto and Waterford. I was looking east or just north of east when I got the shot.
The thing is this. There's an intense discussion on a facebook post (see it here), with some strong opinions that it is Half Dome. I don't think it is, because I've photographed Half Dome from the valley on a number of occasions (here, here and here), and it just doesn't have this kind of topographic prominence from the peaks that surround it. I also can't related to the peaks that should be around it, like Clouds Rest, and Sentinel Dome.
But I'm left with this. If it isn't Half Dome, what peak is it? I think it's north of Yosemite Valley, and I think that the white peak on the far left of the first picture above is Mt. Conness. Could it be Mt. Hoffman? Anyway, your expert guidance and half-formed opinions are equally welcome!
What a sight for sore (and dry) eyes. Deep emerald fields of growing grass, and snow-capped peaks in the distance. Tropical palm trees. Spring? Hardly. It's the first of February in California, a place mired in the depths of the worst drought in perhaps a thousand years. Somehow, the picture doesn't fit with the reality, but it unfortunately does.
I was headed home this afternoon and the passing storm had cleared the air in our valley, exposing the Sierra Nevada near Yosemite National Park in all its glory. I believe we are looking at Mt. Hoffman on the right and Mt. Conness on the left (I am open to other opinions, maybe Matterhorn Peak on the left?). I was looking east from the latitude of Milnes Road east of Modesto. Lots of snow up high, growing fields below, and puddles and mud everywhere.
What do you think? Conness or Matterhorn?
It's certainly not the lack of rainfall. I've been following precipitation in my small town of Waterford in California's Great Valley since 1991, and we've had three great months in a row, 2.82 inches in November, 2.6 inches in December, and 5.3 inches in January (5th wettest January in 25 years, and compared to 0.0 inches last year). We have reached 11.10 inches for the water year, the wettest in all but three of the last 25 years by the first of February (only the El Nino years of 2005 and 1998, and 1995 exceeded this amount). If not a single drop were to fall the rest of the year, this would still be wetter than seven of the past 25 years. But more rain is likely, as El Nino remains a powerful influence in California storms, and there are three more months left in the rainy season.
The snowpack reports are the best in years, ranging from 107% to 120% in the Sierra Nevada and Cascades. Last year? We ended up with a snowpack that was less than 10% of normal.
So how can the drought maps be practically unchanged from several months ago? All of the state remains in drier than normal, and 40% of the state remains in "exceptional" drought. How can this be? It's because we fell so far behind. If the breadwinner in a household loses his or her income, the family will live off of savings for a while, and as unemployment drags on, the family starts using the credit cards. They get into a deep financial hole. When money starts to come in again, basic needs are once again met, but it takes a long time to build up the savings and pay off the credit cards. That's where we are in California right now. Water is returning, but the reservoirs are exceedingly low, and even worse, groundwater has been overdrafted like never before.
A family has one out, a do-over of sorts. Bankruptcy. They could start over with a cleared financial slate. But when it comes to water and California, we don't have that option. We have what we have, and it's going to take a lot more water from the skies to get us back to "normal", if such a climate condition exists anymore.
