Geoffrey atop Gypsy near Caples Proposed Wilderness
(Click on photo above to hear Gypsy say
'Hello' on your speaker!)
Thank you. To the dozens of friends and acquaintances who have helped us make this life journey a reality. We are forever indebted to you for your kindness and generosity. We are blessed to be among such good friends.
May the Wilderness be always at your door
This is a work in progress! Check back often for updates on our Wilderness Odyssey of 2003! We'll be on the road from February 13 through May 25, exploring and researching many of the more than 120 Wilderness and Wild and Scenic River proposals in Senator Boxer's California Wild Heritage Act! This journal of our experience will be updated as often as we can get to a WiFi wireless Internet Hotspot or connection!
We would love to hear from you while we are traveling! Write gsmith@thecomputersmith.com, or call 858.442.1425 cell.
F View our trip itinerary calendar. We would love to hook up with you, and we are accepting any and all suggestions for travel destinations! We update this calendar regularly.
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There comes a time in a person's life when meaning and significance are more important than money and stature. Call it mid-life crisis (can't be that because I had that experience in 1994.) Call it sleepless nights. Call it what you will. The road calls. Change is needed. Time away is best. Hey hit the highway.
For the past two years I have devoted my life to the environment completely. I had always been a dedicated volunteer for the Sierra Club, devoting 10, 20, 30 hours per week, week in and week out, for no pay, for the past 20 years. Sensing the impending dot com doom, in 2000 I made the decision to leave the professional high-tech world for a while and come to work for the Sierra Club, San Diego Chapter as the Conservation Program Coordinator. The time was right, my motivation was high, and the money issue seemed somehow secondary in importance (Oh! How things change!) I took the job at almost 1/3 the salary I was making as the MIS Manager for Stellcom, Inc. (recently merged with Vytek), and off I went.
Fast forward two years, to September 2002. Due to budget short-fall, the local Sierra Club chapter Executive Committee, after much deliberation, made the decision to cut my position in half. Now, instead of working 37.5 hours for pay, and another 20 - 30 hours per week as a volunteer for the Club, I found myself in a difficult situation: Unable to afford to live on the $16k/year I was now making, and being forced to curtail all of the volunteer work I was doing for the Sierra Club in order to seek additional consulting employment, I ran myself in to the ground. I was not happy with my new Sierra Club work plan, which due to the 20 hour restriction did not permit me to work on any of the important programs that I had hired on to do -- and which desperately needed to be done.
Camille had already elected to take a year off from her primary school teaching job for 2002/2003. She needed a break after 25 years as a dedicated teacher to our children. The solution to our dilemma was clear: No sense in sticking around for $16,000 a year, and watching the programs I was formerly responsible for flounder -- we decided to take some time off.
Our work on the California Wild Heritage Campaign gave us the idea: Let's get INTO some of these 120+ Wilderness and Wild and Scenic River Proposals that we have been working on for the past 5 years. Let's really experience them. On the ground. On the snow. In the water. Let's breath the air, feel the dirt, and smell the trees.
"Let's Go!", we said.
So we went. Here's the unfolding story.
J Click on the thumbnail photos for full screen images!
The sun draws low on the western horizon as we make our way
by VW bus to the western boundary of Yosemite National Park, to the drainage of
the Tuolumne River. For me this is a journey of discovery. I seek to
discover what power humankind has over the forces of nature. I am
reluctant to make the trip, and trembling at the emotion I will feel when I see
It.
For my 47 years of life I have so far avoided confronting this horrific monster in the flesh. Only in pictures have I seen it: O’Shaughnessy Dam. The Hetchy-Hetchy Reservoir. The damming of the Tuolumne. The DAMNing of the Tuolumne. The dam named to honor the engineer who dishonored the River.
As we approach the ranger kiosk, the time is 4:00. We have exactly one hour to make the 24 mile round-trip drive to the reservoir, and pay our respects to the once-grand valley, before the gates close for another day. I’ve never enjoyed funerals, and I especially despise open casket viewings, so best to make this memorial tribute a quick one. The viewing. The river in death. A poignant vision for 20 minutes that will stay with me for the rest of my life. We drive on.
As we round the curve in the winding road, we gain our first view of the reservoir, hundreds of feet below us. A pock on the landscape. We press on, reluctantly.
Driving past the full-time caretaker housing, and the police cruiser which has become a constant fixture at the dam since '9-11' we approach the dam itself. I've seen dams before, but this one is different. This is the dam in a National Park that John Muir tried in vane to stop almost 100 years ago, dying shortly after the decision to build the dam was approved.
The painted over graffiti on the face of the dam, which once read 'Free The River', says it all. The Tuolumne is a prisoner, and unfairly incarcerated. It committed no crime, other than to flow freely and powerfully from the mountains to the sea.
Standing on the dam now (10 minutes left!), we look eastward. We imagine what the fertile valley used to look like (we've seen pictures: Beautiful, serene.) It is dead now. And buried.
And then it hit us. The stillness. The coldness. The lifelessness. There is no life here. THERE IS NO SOUND. Sterile, antiseptic, like a morgue. The eerie, solemn feeling of death. The river and valley before us lay in state, dead of the greed that caused humankind to snuff it out for the water and power that it could provide to the Citizens of San Francisco.
The river is dead. We pay our respects and depart.
There are rivers and mountains yet to be saved. We pay our respects and climb slowly back up the road to the kiosk, making it out by 5:05 pm.
The
Merced River ('Mercy') flows down from Yosemite Valley, in a collision course
with the central valley, with its farms, ranching, industry and diversions.
The river gorge is very narrow here, the walls steep. We study the map and
we find our trailhead. Parking Gypsy on a switchback up from the
highway, we start up the old, unused road past the locked gate, and head into
the rain and snow flurries above us.
An hour later, we crest the ridge. The snow flakes flutter about, calling our attention to the distant ridge tops recently dusted by their snow flake cousins. We look down the south side of the ridge to the South Fork Merced River below us, and across to the vast landscape of the proposed Wilderness beyond. We are on top of the world. The cool air is invigorating, and damp soil is fragrant. We are, of course, alone.
A beautiful land, yet threatened. Our first Proposed Wilderness Area (PWA) visit on this trip, we are well aware of the need to protect this and the millions of acres of public land that are UNprotected Wilderness in California. We are excited to be a part of the current effort to bring federal Wilderness protection to over 2.4 million acres of those lands, under Senator Barbara Boxer's California Wild Heritage Act.
Humbled by the majesty of this place, we hiked the three miles back down to Gypsy, and the promise of glorious encounters to come!
The
Calaveras Big Trees framed our visit to this majestic river. An 8 mile
hike to the river and back, and spiritual wandering through the Giant Sequoias,
gave us a good introduction to this magnificent watershed...
We are encamped along the Mokelumne River Wild and Scenic
proposal, and we must be the only people in the entire river gorge, 24 miles
from where we entered to where we now sit in the El Dorado National Forest.
Unfortunately, there is a rather large dam just a few miles upstream, holding
back the Salt Springs Reservoir. But, what are you gonna do. People
need to have electricity, right?
The grand river is flowing just 100' from our bus. We arrived in the last light of day, and can't wait to see this gorge in the full light of morning. Calaveras dome is a massive rock edifice rising above us to the east. Extremely steep and forested slopes characterize this nearly pristine watershed.
We are 'discovering' some very beautiful country up here. For all the beauty, however, we are seeing many, many reminders of how important it is to protect these areas through legislation and acquisition. Even here we see the evidence of clear cutting by Sierra Pacific Industries (SPI – the powerful logging company of the western Sierra), and hydropower dams, aqueducts, penstocks and power lines.
Standing in response, maybe in opposition to, the behemoth
Kirkwood ‘ski’ real-estate resort, across highway 88 to the south, Caples Creek
rises as a rocky, rugged and inviting landscape. Sleeping in our bus in the
employee parking lot at Kirkwood (no camping available, rooms starting at
$150/night), we welcomed the first major snowstorm in two months. The Kirkwood
avalanche prevention team woke us up with a dozen or so plastic explosive
charges, set strategically to blow up the beautiful but life-threatening snow
cornices that formed over night. (No doubt the real-estate agents who run
Kirkwood are hoping for lots of skiers this weekend, and some good property
sales activity to boot.) We enjoyed the beautiful rocky rim of the Thimble Peak
range as I spent two hours getting our ice cold engine to start.
Our Nordic ski exploration began at the – you guessed it – Kirkwood Nordic Center parking lot. Here we donned our backcountry gear and headed off into the El Dorado National Forest in search of Caples Creek and its watershed. Avoiding the network of freshly groomed 15’ wide Nordic ski tracks (we of course opted NOT to spend the $20/person fee for the privilege of skiing on our public land), we quickly gained the ridge above Kirkwood Lake, and saw before us the broad, rocky expanse of the Caples Creek and Meiss Wilderness areas.
Like a gigantic patchwork of gray granite, white snow and green juniper/pinyon forest, the landscape stretched before us from the creek drainage 400’ below us, to the rocky crest 1,000’ above, fading gradually into the gray, snow-bearing clouds above. We skied on through the fresh, untrammeled (except for bear track?) snow, seeking the stunning view that surely waited for us at the top of each hillock. We are never disappointed when skiing like this over virgin terrain, yet we are never satisfied. The only thing that limits our discovery is the knowledge that we must turn back in time to reach the ‘safety’ of civilization, to avoid the harsh reality of the cold winter night.
We feel strangely at home in this silent, harsh and unforgiving world. This is what we need: land to get lost in, land to find ourselves in, land to breathe in.
A chance to ski down to Caples Creek itself could not be missed, so we dropped off the ridge to the meadow below. Skiing across the meadow the snow began to fall, adding softness to the mounds of snow, just as the flakes also disappeared into the icy-cold water flowing westward. The shallow, scooped trough carved in the snow, running from water’s edge to water’s edge, in and out of the warmth-robbing wetness, had us baffled at first. We quickly identified the mysterious traveler: beaver. The dens of the beaver lay quietly throughout this meadow, beneath the snow.
Beaver. The animal which, second only to humankind, alters its environment most. Let’s hope beaver never build a ski resort.
From Echo Summit we
skied down the PCT
into beautiful alpine meadows...
Our ski adventure began from the Donner Summit Snow Park,
where we spent the very cold night with one other vehicle: a VW Vanagon
Westfalia like ours. After catching up on our respective adventures (He:
mandatory 7th year 2 month long sabbatical from Intel Corp.; She:
recently laid off from her technology job in Portland, OR), we spent the night
accompanied by the sound of I-80 traffic just 200 feet from our spot...
A
short but difficult ski up from the creek got us as far as this railroad track,
at the north boundary of the proposal. We were accompanied by 5 separate
freight trains during our lunch break...
Didn't make it to this one, but we saw it from the freeway as the sun was setting...
A
fun hike with our friends from the Campaign Steering Committee. Not so
dinkey in my opinion...
Here
we all are, taking in the fruits of our labors...
This is a wilderness campaign team who put their feet where there hearts are! Many of them are seasoned river guides, just as comfortable in a kayak shooting rapids as they are basking in the sun on the shores of the Kings River. Yet give them a Wilderness and Wild and Scenic River Bill to pass, and there is no match for them in their skill and professionalism at organizing volunteers, or crafting complex and high-stakes political strategies. It is an honor to work with them!
While exploring the shores of this massive and wild river, one cannot help but sense the power it represents. (Certainly the agricultural districts and public/private utilities have!) Having myself had several 'close encounters' with the hereafter while kayaking on relatively benign rivers, I can attest to the relentless and uncaring power that this Kingly river possesses. Don't mess with the river, and it won't mess with you, I always say. Treat it with the respect it deserves, and you will live long (maybe.) Dams break. Rivers rule!
First Day of Spring, Last Day of Hiking for Geoffrey
In a freak accident, Geoffrey broke his lower right fibula (ankle) while hiking in the Cache Creek PWA. Geoffrey will be in a 'walking cast' for 6 - 8 weeks. Read all about this revolting development:
This is Cache Creek along HiWay 16, just below where we hiked in from.
Seems pretty harmless, doesn't it?
Camille taking in the view from Cache Creek Ridge, looking south into the
watershed. Our little mishap occurred about 4 miles from here, near the
right edge of the photo.
This is the Medevac Helicopter that was dispatched from Chico. They had to
return to base due to low fuel (it's a long flight from Chico to Cache Creek!)
A second helicopter from the Sonoma County Sheriff's Dept. came after dark to
evacuate us. It is interesting to note that, on each of my hourly calls to
911 to report my condition and get status, I emphasized that there was no need
for use of helicopters to evacuate me, that horses would suffice. Due to
my 20 years of extensive training and experience, I said, I was completely able
to keep myself warm and dry, and to spend the night if necessary. I
was not in pain (except when walking, which was out of the question!), and I had
plenty of food and wonderful Camille to care for me. No signs of shock,
and a strong heart (as far as I knew!) Despite my urging, the incident
commander made the important decision to use a helicopter to remove us, rather
than horses. Undoubtedly a wise move on his part, since in many similar
operations I am sure he has seen very tragic outcomes result from seemingly
inconsequential beginnings. I honor his experience, and his decision.
The scene of the crime. My right foot (brand new Raichle boots) slipped
sideways into this rut on the nearly-level trail. Snap! Busted bone.
The rut was due to the passing of horses, who walk right down the middle of the
trail, and cut into the soil with their sharp metal-shoed hooves. The
subsequent rains then course down this rut, deepening it. For this reason,
the trail had been closed to horses, but alas the damage had already been done
(and not repaired.)
Bob DeLambert, the wonderful Sonoma County Sheriff's Dept. Paramedic who came to
our rescue at about 9:00 pm. He lowered down from the helicopter on a long
rope, then first pulled up Camille and transported her -- while dangling from
the rope! -- about 2 miles to the landing spot, then came back for me.
From there we boarded the aircraft for the 3+ mile flight to the Hiway 20
parking lot. To the unnamed pilot: Thank you your steady hand, and your
20/20 nighttime vision!
While talking with another Henry 1 rescue team member two
weeks later, I was informed that Henry 1 is the only search and rescue
helicopter team in the USA, besides military aircraft, that is trained and
authorized in night-time long line rescues. The reason? It is an
extremely dangerous mission. Visibility is very poor, and the pilot cannot
use the night-vision IR goggles when doing close work like this. Eeeeek!
That is why I urged 911 to NOT use helicopters. We are thankful
that everything worked out for the best.
The Great Search and Rescue Event of 2003:
We were completely overwhelmed by the response of the Lake County Sheriff's Department, and incident commander Deputy Sheriff Gary Basor. By the time the evening was over, the following resources were mobilized for our evacuation:
 | 911: The wonderful dispatchers for 911 and Clear Lake Sheriff's Department were a beacon of hope in the Wilderness! We always carry our cell phones while hiking, for emergencies such as this. Even though we had no signal and could not dial numbers, we COULD reach 911 with no problem. I called every hour throughout the operation to give them my status, and get updates. (They could not call in, but I could call out.) Half a dozen dispatchers assisted me throughout the ordeal. What a wonderful service they provide! |
| Clearlake Oaks Fire Protection District Paramedics: First on the scene with three paramedics and an ambulance. Two of the paramedics hiked in about 3 miles towards our location, but later returned to base camp due to darkness. |
| Lake County Sheriff's Department: Deputy Sheriff Gary Basor, Incidident Commander, and at least one other officer were present in two vehicles to coordinate the evacuation. |
| Lake County Search and Rescue Equestrian Unit (Volunteers): Arrived with three riders and four beautiful horses (one for me!). The decision was made, again due to darkness, to not utilize them however. |
| Lake County Search and Rescue All-Terrain Vehicle Unit (Volunteer): Entered the roadless area with an all-terrain vehicle (QuadRunner I guess), attempting to approach our location from a different direction, through the new Payne Ranch parcel. He was also called back due to darkness. |
| K-Corps (Volunteers): 10 young people from the Kelsey High School Search and Rescue team, with their advisors. Equipped and trained in rescue techniques, they remained in the base camp for possible action as a last resort. Their commitment and dedication are very much appreciated. |
| Chico, CA Medevac Helicopter: Helicopter with unknown crews size (presumably three) was dispatched and flew to our area, located us visually and gave the coordinates to the teams on the ground. Due to low fuel (long flight from Chico!), then could not remain on the scene and departed. |
| Sonoma County 'Henry1' (see their great web site at www.henry1.com) Sheriff's Helicopter: A crew of three professional pilot/paramedics arrived about 8:00 pm on the scene. After scouting the area from the air, they located a landing area about 2 miles from our location. From there officer Bob De Lambert was transported to our location, while suspended from a 200 foot 'long line' beneath the chopper. He dropped to the ground and greeted us with the most amazing, positive and supportive attitude you could imagine! First he roped up Camille and they flew away, skimming the tree tops back to the landing area two miles away. They came back for me, and off I went, bum leg hanging useless below me. We were dropped at the landing area, then boarded the chopper for the 3+ mile flight back to the highway and operation command center. Traffic was stopped while we landed and disembarked. The capable Paramedic crew (remember them? They were the first on the scene at 4:30 -- almost 6 hours earlier!) offered to treat me and transport me to the local hospital, however I refused treatment because I knew what I needed to do: have Camille drive me to Santa Rosa Memorial Hospital, which she did the following day after a much deserved sleep in a motel in Clear Lake. |
Folks, my eyes are teared up as I write this three days later. I am so humbled by the professionalism and compassion shown by these brave individuals. Over 25 people, half of them volunteers, and many of them minors, devoted 6 hours of their time, and in some cases put their lives on the line, to provide emergency services to me. I am forever indebted to their commitment and dedication. I do not know all of their names, but their memory will remain in my heart forever. Thank you.
(You have not lived until you've been flown by a helicopter over dense, rugged terrain, suspended at the end of a long rope 50 feet above the ground!)
The bad news: Broken (non-displaced) fibula. Technically referred to as a
'malleolar fracture'. Surgery not expected, but I won't know for sure
until three days from now when I meet with the Orthopedic Surgeon.
Dr. Stew Lauterbach, Emergency Room MD, delivering the bad news: "Looking
at a fiberglass walking cast for 6 - 8 weeks. Keep it elevated. No
more hiking for this boy!"
Bummer. There must be a lesson here somewhere...
Travels in Northern California coming up!
Sierra Club Hi
Sierran Newsletter
May/June 2003
'One Club: One Foot'
by Geoffrey Smith
We've all thought it, at the sight of a person with a disability: "There but for the grace of God go I." "I'm glad it wasn't me." "I'm only 1 minute from being in a wheelchair myself." "It will never happen to me."
It happened to me. Mercifully nothing permanent I am told, but I am looking at 6 weeks in a leg cast, unable to walk, run, swim or drive. My disability is the result of a fracture of my right fibula, while hiking in the Cache Creek Proposed Wilderness Area in Lake County, Northern California. Camille and I are 5 weeks into a 10-week long hiking and cross-country skiing exploratory trek through dozens of proposed Wilderness Areas and Wild and Scenic River segments in Senator Boxer's California Wild Heritage Act. As I adjust to life in a cast, and grow 'comfortable' with my new crutches and wheelchair, the mountains above me and the rivers below me take on a new significance.
What is Wilderness? As I look at the dozens of rugged peaks and wild rivers in the coming weeks of travel, those lands might just as well be on the moon, for all my inability to get to them. Yet their need to be permanently wild is just as important to me as a 'disabled person', as they would be to me if I were able to climb the peaks or kayak the rivers.
As I watch the grass grow for the next 6 weeks of my hoped-for recovery, my soul will be filled with the healing force of the wild lands that surround me.
"Of what avail are forty freedoms, without a blank spot on the map." Aldo Leopold's immortal words from A Sand County Almanac speak to the need for Wilderness for it's own sake. Wilderness is not about recreation. It is not about trails or lumber or mountain bikes or snowmobiles. It is not about 'access'. Wilderness is about being wild. About leaving well enough alone and letting nature do its thing. It's about renewal.
Wilderness is about the wonder of our natural world. I am filled with awe at the mere thought of its existence. From my crutches on the pavement, I feel the power of Wilderness inside of me. I feel renewed.
To help safeguard our Wilderness treasures, call me to learn how you can help with the California Wild Heritage Act Campaign to create 2.4 million acres of federal Wilderness and 22 Wild and Scenic Rivers in California. Dial 858.442.1425. See more of California's wild places at http://home.san.rr.com/camillegeoffrey/CaliforniaWildernessOdyssey.htm
Peace on Earth.
('One Club' is a regular column written by Geoffrey Smith, the Conservation Coordinator, currently on temporary personal leave of absence.)
I've been in a cast now for two weeks. To say that I have a new respect for the plight of the disabled would be an understatement. My 'temporary' disability has opened my eyes to the challenges that many of our fellow citizens face every day of their lives. The fact that I cannot drive a vehicle for 6 weeks complicates things even more!
Camille has been a wonderful support during this time. I owe her so much for her love and support. My Uncle Jim and Aunt Kathy, who put us up in their Santa Rosa home for the past 12 days, have been wonderful. Having friends and family is so important at times like this.
I look up at the wild places around us, and I am strengthened by their beauty and majesty. I don't need to 'go in' to the WIlderness to sense it's wonder. The Wilderness is already inside of me. I will appreciate it -- and fight for it -- from a distance.
Departing Santa Rosa now, excited about adventures ahead.
To be continued ...
Today I received word from the Sierra Club that an apparently classified report from our Chapter Personnel Committee to the ExCom, presented a month ago, calls for the elimination of my Conservation Program Coordinator position for a period of 2 - 3 years. Reason cited: budget shortfall. A formal vote will be taken on April 16.
I'm going to stop taking trips. The last time I took a vacation, my position was cut in half. This time they've sunk me altogether.
Without getting into the reasons why I believe it is unwise to eliminate the only Sierra Club conservation issue organizer position in San Diego after over 30 years of success with that position, or fire the staff person who led the volunteer effort to turn our Chapter's fundraising program around and made it an unprecedented success in 2002... Suffice to say that I am bewildered and saddened by this news.
I think I will go to the Wilderness ...
Gypsy grinds up the impressive gradient with apparent
ease, 'cruising' at 8 mph, with Camille at the wheel (where she will remain for
the duration of our trip -- I cannot safely or legally drive with a leg cast.)
The King Range, suitably named for the massif that guards the Lost Coast -- 24
miles of the last remaining roadless and undeveloped coastline on the west coast
of the US.
As we crest the ridge summit, we see majestic Kings Peak in the distance, 16 miles to the North. Sitting in regal splendor, overseeing the vast, rugged realm of the 41,000 acres of land now 'protected' as a BLM National Conservation Area. Douglas fir, tanoak and madrone comprise the bulk of the tree population. These lands lack the summer fog that coastal redwoods rely on for growth; The King Range is hot and dry in the summer, and fire is a constant reality.
On our first day in the King Range, we are blessed with warm sun. I read in Gypsy, parked on the blue disabled parking spot on the bluff above the beach (one of the few perks that comes with a broken leg: Permission to park in blue disabled spaces, and unlimited/free parking in metered and green curb spaces. Wooo Whooo!) Amidst showers of hugs and kisses, and admonishments to avoid: lions, bears, rogue 'sleeper' waves, broken ankles and mean people, Camille heads off on her first solo journey in our new modified trip plan. Two hours walk up the Black Sand Beach, north of Shelter Cove.
I am alone. I look, I listen, I breathe, I feel.
Why am I drawn to the coast? When given a choice I always go west. The mountains are grand, Kingly, imposing, awe-inspiring, immovable. The ocean is powerful, alive, dynamic, changing. It can reach out and grab an unsuspecting beachgoer, or give a free ride to a confident surfer. The sun-induced Wind can propel the sailor for endless days over the slick, cool lubricant that is water. (The negative ions produced by the pounding surf are known to be mood enhancing, but I want to keep this on a spiritual plane if you don't mind.)
(For years I have had the custom of going to the beach for breakfast, the morning after a job termination. Working for the DOD as a contractor, I have had many opportunities to loose my job over the years, and I have become a regular if not frequent customer at the Lahaina Beach House in Pacific Beach. Today, I patronize Gypsy, drink my coffee, and marvel at the infinite grace and power that it is ocean. I hope to find answers here.)
Feeling buoyed by her first successful solo hiking adventure, and having survived the massive earth slide that inundated the Lost Coast beach just a mile or two from where she walked (scaring the fucking Hell out of me, by the way), Camille was ready for her next adventure.
On a good day, the trail to Kings Peak from the Lightning trail head is steep, heavily forested and breathtaking. On this day, storming, wet, and cold, the trail is a physical and mental challenge. More hugs and admonitions, and a cell phone radio check, and Camille is off for a 3 - 4 hours solo hike. I trust Camille to be safe. I know she has the skills to do well and survive. I worry.
Alone again, this time with Gypsy's doors and windows shut to keep the storm out, I am mercifully kept pre-occupied by my latest work assignment for the Campaign: Lining up business and government spokespersons for the hopefully soon bill reintroduction. My 3-mode cell phone can just barely get an out-bound signal -- IF I standup inside of Gypsy's pop-top, with my cell hand extended high up over my head. Analog signal only; Digital service is for freeway-bound city folk exclusively. Six voice mails to one candidate. Two voice mails to another. Success! I made contact with contact three, and he agrees to serve as spokesperson. The other two will hopefully leave messages, which I will retrieve in two days when I am back in cell-phone range.
'Cell phones on vacation?', you ask?
Point of clarification: This is not a 'vacation'. It is a leave of absence from a job that I have with the Sierra Club, and from Camille's public schools teaching job. While on this 10-week sojourn, I continue to support consulting clients, and I remain an active Steering Committee member and regional organizer for the Wild Heritage Campaign. Cell phone technology enables me to travel like this, while still honoring my commitments. (Although I must confess I do appreciate 48-hour-plus service blackouts, as we are currently enjoying on the Lost Coast at the mouth of the Mattole River!) Two week vacations sans cell phone are essential. 10-week leaves are a different story! Appropriate application of technology, and all that.
Camille joined a group of area activists for a snowy, wet
hike up to Red Mountain, while Geoffrey lounged in a wonder mountain cabin, high
in the hills outside of Garberville ... snow, rain, activist culture.
David Bergin host.
We accompanied area activist Lynn Ryan on a reconnaissance
of this proposal. Camille and Lynn explored two trail-heads for an
upcoming Campaign outing... Rain, Smith River, Port Orford cedar root rot...
Last
night we visited the 12 tree-sitters at the Freshwater Creek tree
sit action. It was so surreal. To hear the sitters' voices in the
trees, talking to each other and the ground support, but not able to see their
faces. All around them, 1,000-year old trees lay fallen, cut by the spiteful
loggers, often to intimidate the activists. They've recently resorted to a new
tactic: The loggers are girdling the trees (stripping bark to kill the tree),
even while the trees are occupied. So the sitters are now 'saving' trees that
are doomed to die. I was speechless for hours
after spending time in these trees, and talking with the people. We gave them
food, water, and played music for them from our radio. Where/when will it end?
Views:
Ocean, Yolla Bolli, Yuki, Snow Mountain; Threats of ORVs; remnants of snow;
Diverse forests: Douglas Fir, Ponderosa Pine, Black Oak, Coast Live Oak, Tan
Oak, Madrone; Black Oak Trail; Rolling hills/valley/meadows; Solitude;
Cold; <2 hour walk; moss, greenery;
... trip with Ryan Henson, Lynn Ryan, Jennifer Tang -
Boxer's new staffer, and David and Ellen Drell, founders of the Willits
Environmental Center ...
...
Middle Fork Eel River. Still processing the experience. A black
bear was involved. Nobody was hurt ...
...
feeds the mighty Eel
Feather Falls is the 6th highest water fall in the continental US, and the 4th
highest in California. Camille's 10-mile round trip hike took her deep
into the Feather River watershed, where she experienced the beautiful wild
diversity of this region defined by hard rock called 'platon'. This rock
led to the formation of 'Bald Rock Dome', and the shelf that creates Feather
Falls...
On the eave of our trip to the 'NCA', we were honored to
spend the night in the Tehema riverside home of a good friend and activist,
Jessie Rios. Imagine our surprise when, after arriving in the dark the
night before, we awoke to view the grand Sacramento River just 100' away,
flowing at near-flood stage of over 100 cfs (normal is about 30 cfs), and 10 mph
current by guestimation. Over 200 feet across at this point, we were awed
at the sight of this magnificent river flowing to the Sacramento River delta,
thence the sea. One feels quite small and powerless in comparison to this
mighty force. (Good thing Jessie's house is on stilts!)
Steve Evans, our good friend and Conservation Director for Friends of the River, met us for today's adventure to the Sac River NCA (proposed.) As Steve and Camille disappear into the oak woodland, across the tall grasslands, I am left alone in Gypsy in the company of wet splashes of colorful wildflowers, rivulets of rain runoff all around, and the discomforting yet all-too-familiar sound of traffic on the hiway where we parked. The rain-washed air is clear and fresh, and I can just make out the Coast Range over 100 miles to the west, the sunlight splashing the upper Sacramento River valley below.
Three hours later my intrepid friends return, feet wet to the knees, and smiles on their faces. Camille reports a close sighting of three juvenile eagles, cavorting (do raptors cavort?) among the plunging verticals of the rock outcropping that was the outing return point. Off to Red Bluff we drive, then up the western side of the NCA proposal, to the peaceful glen where I now sit ...
(We interrupt this soliloquy to report a gray fox sighting! Just 50 feet away, the little rascal just trotted past the trailhead down which Camille and Steve disappeared 1/2 hour ago. Clearly intent on getting somewhere, Mr. Fox just kept on trotting, generally ignoring my mischievous taps on the window glass, and Jerry Garcia's mellow melodies emanating from the speakers. Thank you, Fox, for sharing this glen with me! Live long and prosper on the land that I hope to help protect for you and yours.)
Where was I? The glen where I sit, alongside the Sacramento River flowing silently but massively 100 yards away, is a not-too-badly-grazed-but-grazed-just-the-same meadow, populated with blue- and valley-oaks...
Named for the
last member of the Yahi tribe who spent years helping anthropologists learn
about his culture. Camille and Steve Evans spent a day exploring the
Antelope Creek watershed, re-discovering the lush, green world that is Ishi.
This prime habitat for steelhead trout is a wonderful of rugged beauty ...
COME BACK SOON! We just returned to Internet Land after nearly 3 amazing weeks in the Klamath, Salmon and Trinity watersheds. Beeeautiful land and waters! We are stunned, and in awe of the majestic beauty.
Apologies for not being more up-to-date! We returned to San Diego on May 25, and immediately began preparing for the future.
Camille is now teaching 3rd grade at Valley Center Elementary School, working her little hiney off to create good curriculum for her 21 demanding but beautiful kids.
Geoffrey has found post-Sierra Club employment with local consumer group UCAN, managing their data systems, and he continues to manage the Wild Heritage Campaign. He is volunteering about 15 hours per week with the San Diego River Park Foundation, where he is working on a variety of projects for the 52-mile long river park. Geoffrey spends MOST of his time in graduate school, where he is in his first semester of a 2-year program: Master of Arts in Nonprofit Management and Leadership at the University of San Diego. Who woulda guessed that Geoffrey would be be back in skool!
We'll let everyone know when these California Wilderness Odyssey pages are up to date. Probably in January!
Peace.