Climate Change Archives ~ Page 2 of 3 ~ Rambling ranger

March 3, 2022

Sanctuary

(1) – a place of refuge and protection

(2) – a refuge for wildlife where predators are controlled and hunting is illegal.

(3) – a holy place

Pacific Grove Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary

(1) – All of the above

I kept putting off my visit. Why should I seek out a place that would only depress me? The last time I was there I only saw 3 or 4, and I had to use binoculars even to find the dismal few. I heard a rumor that they were coming back. But I also heard that last year none returned at all.

Since it was my last week in Pacific Grove, and the sanctuary was close by, I decided to bite the bullet and check it out. I’m glad I did.

I had only taken a few steps into the refuge when the passion and the drama took place right before my eyes, practically at my feet. They were fluttering by, flirting, chasing each other when things suddenly got serious. He slammed her to the ground. They wrestled. They danced. Then he brought their lovemaking to an entirely new level. He clasped her close. She went limp in his arms. He carried her high into the sky, up to the very tops of the trees.

When it comes to sexual endurance, the Monarch Butterflies put humans to shame. A pair of Monarchs will mate for up to 15 hours! They start mid-afternoon and finish shortly after sunrise. Afterwards, the female flies off to find a milkweed plant to lay her eggs on. In the two weeks or so that she has left to live, the female Monarch will repeat that act again and again.

In a week when the world situation is looking especially grim, it sure is nice to be able to share some good news. The Monarch Butterflies seem to be making a bit of a comeback.

I’ve written before about the demise of the Monarchs. The last time I visited the Pacific Grove Sanctuary, California’s Monarchs had plummeted to less than 1% of their former population. Numbers had dropped from 4.5 MILLION in the 1980s to 28,429 as of January 2019.

Last year there were no butterflies at all found in the Pacific Grove Sanctuary, and less than 2,000 counted in all of California.

This year there were about 14,000 in Pacific Grove alone and just over 247,000 in the total count for the California coast. Good news!

Perhaps some of our actions have helped the Monarch. Pacific Grove is a town that takes safeguarding the butterflies seriously. In this town, messing with a Monarch carries a $1,000 fine! The city has planted butterfly-friendly plants in its parks and along the Coastal Trail. Many residents have also planted butterfly-friendly plants, avoided RoundUp, and eaten more organic food since hearing about the Monarch’s plight.

Action is even beginning to take place on the federal level. There were two bills for butterfly conservation included in the $1 trillion infrastructure package that passed in November. These Acts, the Monarch and Pollinator Highway Act and the Monarch Action, Recovery, and Conservation of Habitat Act, will provide grants for replacing invasive species with native pollinator-friendly plants on highway roadsides and medians. They will also charge highway crews with being mindful about when they mow, avoiding mowing during key times in the Monarch migration.

The resurgence of butterfly numbers this year is wonderful news. But it’s not really a comeback, it’s more of a reprieve. We dodged a bullet this time, but 250,000 is a drop in the bucket compared to the 4.5 million found in earlier years. Monarch Butterflies still face the looming threats of pesticides, habitat destruction and climate change. They still need our help to grow back into a healthy, thriving population.

Help the Monarchs. Eat organic. Don’t use pesticides. Please do what you can to provide sanctuary, and help the Monarch butterflies survive.

Thank you, Karina of Murtagh’s Meadow, for providing this week’s Lens-Artists Photography Challenge, A Special Place.

February 26, 2022

Pacific Coast Sunsets

It’s a good year to miss winter in Alaska. The snow started early, on the last day of summer. I wasn’t lucky enough to miss that storm. It complicated my travel plans. It took me a couple of extra days to close everything up on the homestead and get out of town.

Then the snow took a brief hiatus, making way for the extreme cold. It was 40 below for weeks at a time in McCarthy, even dipping down to -60. The coldest I had ever seen was 53 below. Glad I missed the cold spell.

See what I mean about a good winter to miss? It was just getting started.

It’s been snowing back home. And snowing, and snowing….. more snow than anyone can remember ever falling in McCarthy. Buildings are buried. And it’s still February. March is usually the snowiest month. Yikes!

California sunsets — Sunset in Pacific Grove

Which makes me super grateful for where I am spending the winter, further south on the Pacific Coast. I have really been enjoying those Pacific Coast sunsets.

I spent January at a housesit in Anacortes, Washington. The weather was generally dark, drab and dreary, with snow, rain or fog practically every day. My SAD syndrome kicked in, but I kept reminding myself about what the weather was like back home and felt pretty thankful to be someplace safe and warm where I could avoid driving on those occasions when the streets were icy.

Deception Pass State Park — Sunset at Rosario Beach near Anacortes, Washington

The day before I left, I did have one nice sunset.

Then my luck changed. I had clear weather for 3 days in Olympic National Park! What a rare and wonderful occurrence! The skies continued to stay mostly clear as I traveled down the coast to my February housesit, in Pacific Grove, California.

Mostly clear, except every night as I passed through Oregon there was a thin band of fog on the western horizon in otherwise cloudless skies, effectively extinguishing any hints of color from the setting sun. I’ve included a photo from an Oregon sunset I took on another trip, so you can see the potential and understand my disappointment when things looked so hopeful each evening but didn’t pan out.

Skies have been clear almost every night here in California. There has only been one day with any precipitation at all. It was just a sprinkle, but I was able to capture some fabulous God rays between storms. Check out the feature shot and you’ll see what I mean.

I feel a little like Goldilocks and the three bears. Although I am grateful for all these beautiful sunsets, we could use some rain. Although there’s too much snow in McCarthy, the drought in the West is severe. According to dendrochronology, the science of interpreting past climate through tree rings, in some places it’s the worst drought in over 1500 years. So I pray for rain, and hope that if it comes, it also brings big waves, god rays and rainbows.

Pacific Grove, California — Praying for rain and big waves

Thanks to Anne for this week’s Lens-Artists Challenge, Water.

Kalaloch Sunset — Fishing boat off the Washington coast

March 25, 2021March 25, 2021

A Change of Scenery – The Redwood Forest

So it’s spring. At least that’s what I hear. In Alaska, it’s hard telling. The days are longer, but temperatures are still hovering somewhere between 10 below and 10 above (Fahrenheit) when I wake up, and it never gets above freezing most days. White is the predominant color. The only other colors you see are the brownish-gray of bark and the deep dark green of the evergreen spruce trees. It will be quite a while yet before the snow melts.

Hatcher's Pass, Alaska — It’s a monochrome landscape in Alaska right now.

I miss color. For over a decade, I spent every March in the California desert, chasing the wildflower bloom. I’m really missing those flowers. My only consolation is that the desert wildflower season this year is a bust because it has been so dry. If I’m going to miss a year, this was a good year to miss.

But I’m still craving color, and warmth. It’s going to be locked in white here, and anywhere else I could drive to, for quite a few more weeks yet. I could use a change of scenery.

Redwood Sorrel — I miss color, and flowers – like this redwood sorrel from the redwood forest.

If there are no flowers in the desert, I guess I should look somewhere else for color. How about the redwood forests of northern California? There’s plenty of green there and a few flowers, too. Might be a nice place to travel to, even if it is only in my imagination!{

Trillium change color as they grow older, turning from white to pink to red.

Redwoods are the tallest trees in the world, over 50 feet taller than any other species. They are one of the largest trees on the planet, too. Redwood trees you can drive through are a popular northern California tourist attraction.

They are fast-growing and long-lived. Although the average age for an old-growth redwood is 500 to 600 years, some specimens have been recorded at over 2,200 years old!

Jedidiah Smith State Park, CA — Redwood trees are massive!

Redwood trees are water hogs. They have to be, they’re so tall. It’s hard for water to make it all the way from the roots to the crown, 100 meters up. Even though they live in a seasonally rainy climate, the trees depend on fog to survive. They can absorb water through their bark and their leaves, and 30% of their water needs are filled by fog.

Mendocino County — Fog is essential for a redwood tree’s survival.

The rainier and foggier it is, the taller the trees grow. The tallest redwoods grow deep in the valleys where the fog settles in. One of the challenges facing redwood trees in these days of global climate change is that there is much less fog than there used to be along the northern California coast.

Russian Gulch State Park, CA — Redwoods need a lot of water.

Once their forests spread for millions of acres throughout California’s central and northern coastal lands, all the way from Big Sur to southern Oregon. Then gold was discovered in 1849.

Redwood trees were a lumberman’s dream come true. Not only were the trees humongous, the wood was really something special. Light and beautiful, it absorbed water and resisted rot because of all the tannins it contained. Low in resins, it was also much more resistant to fire than most woods.

Avenue of the Giants — Redwood trees built San Francisco both before and after the 1906 earthquake and fire.

Less than 5% of the original old-growth forest remains. These forests, which had thrived undisturbed for thousands of years, were decimated in less than one human lifetime.

By 1908, the California Federation of Women’s Clubs presented a children’s petition with 2,000 signatures to the Forest Service, asking them to protect some of the remaining trees for future generations, to create a national redwood park before they were all gone.

Navarro River Redwoods — Redwood bark is resistant to fire.

By 1918 the Save the Redwoods League formed, part of the same conservation movement that created the National Park Service. In fact, Stephen Mather, the first director of the National Park Service, was an integral part of the formation of the League.

However, there was no Redwoods National Park until 1968. Instead, the Save the Redwoods League saved the trees. They raised money and bought up tracts of virgin redwood forest wherever and whenever they could. Eventually, they established 66 different redwood parks and reserves. Many of these groves formed the backbone of California’s state park system.

All these facts and figures and history of the redwoods may be fascinating, but there are no words to describe the most important things about a redwood forest. Anyone who has spent time in the redwoods would agree, though.

These forests are magical. They’re enchanted. Although they have no words, these ancient beings will speak to you if you give them a chance. Call me a treehugger, but a living redwood is a sentient being.

Walking in a redwood forest is a healing experience, a meditation. You will emerge a calmer and wiser soul than you were when you arrived. I highly recommend it for the next time you are craving a change of scenery.

Thank you, Beth, of Wandering Dawgs, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, “A Change of Scenery”.

March 18, 2021March 24, 2021

An Unusual Occurrence – Death Valley Rain Events

A rain event in Death Valley is a very unusual occurrence. After all, it IS the driest place in North America. With only about 2 inches of precipitation a year, rainstorms don’t happen very often. Rain events are even rarer.

I worked at Death Valley for 8 winter/spring seasons. In that time, I witnessed 2 rain events.

Standing at the mouth of Titus Canyon watching the first rainstorm of February 2010 come in over the Panamints

A rain event is much more than just a rainstorm. it has long-lasting repercussions. It can totally transform a landscape, and those transformations are part of the event. These are indeed special moments.

Death Valley National Park — Badwater Salt Flats after the first storm

My first rain event was in 2010. During the winter of 2009/2010, it didn’t rain at all. All the oldtimers said it would be a poor flower year that spring. Too dry.

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes — I spent a lot of time hiking the sand dunes that February because there were many times that the canyons were too dangerous. It rained and rained and rained.

Then February came, and with it, a series of Pineapple Express storms. A Pineapple Express is an atmospheric river formed above the ocean waters near Hawaii. Coming from the south, they dodge the high Sierras, leaving them with plenty of water to dump on Death Valley. We got 3 storms in a row. That February we received an inch and a half of rain. It was the rainiest February in Death Valley’s history.

Mesquite Flat Sand Dunes & Grapevine Mountains — The sand dunes were transformed into a desert oasis.

It was so wet that pools formed in the sand dunes, the only time I ever saw that happen. It looked like a true desert oasis.

Alpenglow on the Grapevine Mountains reflected in an ephemeral pool

The biggest change, though, was the Badwater Salt Flats. The salt flats were transformed into a lake, filled with about 7 inches of water for miles in every direction. There was so much water a friend went kayaking just for the photo op. With all the fresh snow on the Panamints, this symbol of the driest of deserts became almost alpine in appearance.

The oldtimers still predicted a poor flower year, though. They said the rain came too late and there wouldn’t be time for the tender seedlings to get a good start before it became too hot.

They were wrong.

Notchleaf Phacelia — 2010 turned out to be a good flower year after all.

My second rain event was the big one, a historic one, the great flood event of Sunday, October 17, 2015. It destroyed half the highways in the park. Scotty’s Castle is still closed due to this rainstorm.

It was literally my first day back to the park for the season. I needed to go to Pahrump, the nearest town, 60 miles away, to stock up since I was just moving in. It had been raining off and on for 2 days. My boss told me to be careful, there was flash flooding down by Death Valley Junction.

I made it through the water at that low spot alright, but that afternoon the storms came back in with a vengeance. I could hear the radio reports as I shopped, the calamitous beeping that heralded a severe weather alert. When I walked outside, I could see the blackest sky ever out towards the Northwest, contrasting sharply with the brilliant flashes of dozens of lightning strikes.

I tried to hurry home. Things were starting to look serious. I knew I had to hustle to make it before the road was closed at Death Valley Junction. It had started raining, hard, and the thunder and lightning to the Northwest was truly something to behold. A light show, Fourth of July fireworks! I’ve never seen so many lightning strikes. I thought to myself that I was glad I wasn’t at Scotty’s Castle. Things looked really bad in that direction.

But they were bad enough where I was. Would I make it in time? The road started to get sketchy. I could see the edges crumbling and I knew for safety’s sake I had to try a different route. They closed that highway less than 10 minutes after I turned around. More than the edges had crumbled.

I thought I’d go the long way around, up north towards Beatty. I was stopped by the sheriff. That road was out, too. I ended up spending the night with a friend, a woman I worked with who lived in Pahrump.

Badwater Road and Telescope Peak January 2016

We headed out in caravan to reach the park early the next morning, in radio contact with the park maintenance crew. There was one route that just might work. There was lots of water running on the road as we crossed washes. One crossing was doubtful. I could feel my little truck slow down and threaten to stall out. I was really glad we were caravaning. In hindsight, I wouldn’t cross water like that again. Within half an hour of when we went through, that road closed, too. But we made it.

The October monthly precipitation average for Death Valley is .07 inches. Death Valley received 1.3 inches of rain in October 2015, nearly all of it from the October 17 storm. That storm caused a lot of destruction to man-made structures and roads. But it also made some amazing changes to the landscape.

Greenwater Road — Imagine the ground growing thick like this with flowers – everywhere – for miles upon miles

Of course, Badwater Basin once again filled with water. No kayaking this time, though. By the time the road crew had cleared and repaired the road as far as Badwater the water levels were already down too far for that. Mud and debris flows trashed the Badwater Road. The southern part of the road was completely destroyed, the pavement twisted and shredded.

The change that impressed me the most, though, was at Artist’s Drive. A debris flow had completely inundated the main canyon, filling it brim to brim and splashing ten to twelve feet up the walls in places. This layer of mud is now a permanent part of Death Valley’s geological record, a layer of rock that will still show up thousands of years from now. I love to see geology happen!

And then, starting as early as the end of December, the flowers came out. And continued to come out, month after month, all the way to May. They were so thick on the ground you couldn’t take a step without trampling a flower. And they were all supersized, too.

For instance, Desert Five-Spot is usually a shy flower; the plant grows about 6 inches high, with only a few blossoms on each plant. In dry years, it will dwarf into a tiny belly flower only an inch or two high with one blossom. But during the 2016 Death Valley superbloom, I found a veritable plantation of five-spot bushes, all about 3 feet high with dozens of blossoms. One plant had 53 flowers! What a difference a little rain makes!

Death Valley Superbloom 2016 — Desert 5-spot

Although the Artist’s Drive debris flow was the most thrilling change for me intellectually, the wildflower bloom is what struck my heart. It was the ultimate of all the special moments I’ve experienced in my Death Valley rain events.

Thank you, Tina of Travels and Trifles, for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge, Special Moments.

January 22, 2021January 24, 2021

Biodiversity is an Emotional Issue

When it comes to biodiversity, my feelings run through the full gamut of emotions.

Happiness

Bosque del Apache National Wildlife Refuge — Biodiverse landscapes make us happy.

Being close to nature has been a priority of mine for nearly my whole adult life. From my first backpacking trip on, I realized that immersing myself in landscapes teeming with life – many different forms of life interacting easily and naturally with each other – kept me healthy, happy and sane. Knowing that I am just a piece of a very big puzzle, a cog in the unbelievably complex wheel of the Universe, helps me to regain a proper perspective when I get overwhelmed by challenges that seem too great for me to handle. It’s really not all about me; my problems are so inconsequential when I am surrounded by the real Big Picture.

I’m not alone. It has been acknowledged by cultures all over the globe that healthy, thriving ecosystems are necessary for our physical, mental, and spiritual health. Variety IS the spice of life.

Gratitude

Death Valley Monkeyflower — Plant biodiversity is incredibly important in our lives.

Every day I am grateful for the complexity of life. Biodiversity is responsible for all the choices we have in the foods we can eat. It is responsible for life-saving medicines, with more being discovered all the time. Lack of biodiversity has been connected to many disease outbreaks. Biodiversity is accountable for resiliency and flexibility in the face of dramatic changes to our planet. It is necessary for the very air we breathe and water we drink.

As a park ranger, biodiversity is essential to my employment. It’s probably the main reason people visit national parks. But you don’t have to work in the tourism industry to be economically dependent on biodiversity. According to the Living Planet Index, people derive approximately $125 trillion of value from natural ecosystems each year. Gotta be grateful for that.

Concern

We are losing our biodiversity at an astonishing rate, a reason for great concern. Species extinctions currently vary between 100 and 10,000 times the background extinction rate of one to five extinctions a year over the history of the planet. That doesn’t even get into the decline in populations of many species not yet in danger of extinction. The average population size of vertebrate species has declined by 68 percent from 1970-2016. Since biodiversity is essential to our survival, we should all be concerned.

Sadness

Monarch Butterflies — The Western Monarch Butterfly population is down more than 99% from the 1980s count.

Witnessing this decline breaks my heart. It makes me very sad when I read about mass die-offs of seabirds in western Alaska or see with my very own eyes the decline of a species like the Monarch Butterfly.

Fear

Denali National Park — After a lengthy court battle, grizzly bears are still covered by the Endangered Species Act in the contiguous US.

As I watch ecosystems crash one by one, as we continue to do little to nothing to address this issue, I feel fear. I fear for our quality of life and our very survival as a species as we continue to degrade the resources we need to depend on, both now and in the future.

Guilt

Wramgell St. Elias national Park & Preserve — Like most of us, I need to make more conscious choices.

I’m an American. I’m guilty. It’s ridiculous how much we Americans contribute to the loss of habitat and the loss of biodiversity. All because we have been trained to constantly want more, more, more, just to keep our consumer-driven culture intact.

I didn’t get a driver’s license until I was 50. I didn’t want to become part of the problem. But I am part of the problem. I’ve driven a couple of hundred thousand miles since then.

I’m not much of a consumer for an American. I’m not one of those getting Amazon packages every day. I seldom buy something unless I need it. But I don’t always buy organic or make wise choices about eating locally. Pesticides, herbicides, and industrial farming methods are some of the main drivers behind the loss of biodiversity. Transportation of foodstuffs from one part of the world to destinations tens of thousands of miles away is an incredible waste of our planet’s resources. I could do better. We all could do better.

Anger

graffiti on redwood tree — Disrespect for living things makes me angry.

Although I feel guilt, I feel a lot more anger. I feel angry at everyone that disrespects nature and the diversity of life. The thoughtlessness of an individual vandalizing or destroying a tree or a flower can make me mad, but the heartlessness of powerful corporations and individuals who put short-term profit before the long-term health of the planet makes me rage.

Despair

Sea Star and hermit crabs — Hermit Crabs scavenging a dead sea star

I’ve felt a lot of despair over the last 4 years as I’ve watched all the hard-won environmental reforms of the previous 50 years go by the wayside. I’ve felt despair as I’ve had to stand by while the Trump administration gutted the Endangered Species Act and the Migratory Bird Treaty Act, two key pieces of legislation for the protection of biodiversity.

It can be overwhelming when the reality of the situation really sinks in. When I walk a beach in Olympic National Park that no longer supports starfish, or think of the reefs in the Florida Keys that I used to snorkel that are now white, dead skeletons, I feel despair.

Joy

But it’s not all doom and gloom. We humans have some amazing capabilities. We can turn things around when we really try. There are success stories out there. There are species that have been brought back from the edge of extinction and are now thriving.

Elephant seals are one of those species. So are sea otters. So are bison. They’re out there, those examples of times when we’ve corrected the mistakes we’ve made. I feel great joy when I see these success stories.

Hope

Yellowstone National Park — American Bison have come back from the brink of extinction.

“With unity, we can do great things.” – Joseph R. Biden

Although my emotions run the whole gamut, the main emotion I am feeling right now when it comes to biodiversity is hope. A new day is dawning. We have an opportunity right now to turn things around and build a better world for the future, a world where biodiversity matters. But to make this happen, we need to change our mindsets. Instead of asking ourselves, “What will best benefit me?”, we need to ask ourselves, “What will best benefit us, all of us? What policies can we enact that will be good for not just the short-term, but for the long-term health of our Mother the Earth?” We need to take a good look at how we do things and figure out better ways to do them, ways that protect biodiversity and lead to a cleaner, greener planet. We have a chance, and we need to act on it. Now.

“It’s time for boldness because there’s so much to do.” – Joseph R. Biden

Thank you to Patti of Pilotfishblog for this week’s Lens-Artists Photo Challenge theme, Emotions.

Wrangell-St. Elias National Park & Preserve — Biodiversity is good for all of us!

Answers to last week’s quiz – 1) Purple Cress, alpine 2) Purple Mat, desert 3) Bristly Langlosia, desert 4) Spring Beauty, alpine 5) Bigelow Mimulus, desert

March 30, 2020

Sea Arches of Mendocino County

My niece Jessica put up a post challenging her friends to flood FB with beach pictures. So I thought I’d bring on a little arch madness with a post on the sea arches of Mendocino County.

One of the arches you can see from the Mendocino Headlands

Sea arches are one of the most ephemeral of landforms, rarely lasting more than a century, often standing for only a few decades before the constant battering of the relentless surf sends them crashing down.

Point Arena-Stornetta Public Lands — Stornetta Highlands, California Coastal National Monument

For instance, Natural Bridges State Park in Santa Cruz had 3 bridges in 1904. Today only one remains. If you’d like to see how dramatic these changes can be in such an incredibly short time, check out this article that Gary Griggs wrote for the Santa Aguila Foundation. The before and after pictures are astounding!

Mendocino County Sea Arches — View from a tunnel on Seaside Beach

These geologic sculptures can be much more fragile than they look. Even thick, seemingly stable arches are subject to catastrophic collapse. In March 2015 an arch collapsed at Point Reyes National Seashore, killing a woman. If you’re walking the headlands of northern California and see signs warning you to stay back from the edges of the cliffs, heed them. Erosion is on a fast track here.

Seaside Beach — They call the formation on the left The Whale. No idea why.

Geohazards like these catastrophic collapses will become more and more common in future years, due to sea level rise caused by climate change.

Sea Arches of Mendocino County — An arch north of Westport

Your children may not see the same arches you did when they visit the Pacific Coast. But the forces that destroy these landforms are constantly carving new ones, exquisite jewels in a dynamic landscape ruled by the sea.

Category: Climate Change

Sanctuary

Pacific Grove Monarch Butterfly Sanctuary

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Pacific Coast Sunsets

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A Change of Scenery – The Redwood Forest

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An Unusual Occurrence – Death Valley Rain Events

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