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Sunday March 22, 2015
There is a
journey we want to take. It will be heartbreaking - hell, it already is. Last
fall the massive King Fire started just north of our home. We saw the start
from several miles away as we were returning home from a trip. In a couple of hours
it was a terrifying beast shrouded with massive, boiling, columns of smoke, Its
main path took it north crossing the South Fork of the American, Big Silver,
and then, on the third day it rolled into the canyon of the Rubicon River. It
exploded. Photos and video of the pyrocumulus clouds made the
news around the country.
The Rubicon River was special. The only designated "wild &
native" trout stream on the Eldorado National Forest, its rugged canyon
held visitors at bay. It was a tough place. You had to want to go there. It was
where I learned to fly fish. In the early days, it was the only place I went. I
had some of the large trout named. Ward and June (yeah, from Leave It To
Beaver) always hung out in a crystal clear pool up at Parsley Bar. I could
never fool them, although I came close a couple of times. The upper reaches had pockets
of old growth, magnificent trees. The canyon's bedrock sections held huge
plunge pools. Summer evenings the Lady and I would often run down one remote
trail, drop 2400 vertical feet into the canyon, swim, and have dinner. We would
climb out at dark. It is a place of memories, especially now that it is gone.
From what I've heard from folks who have been there - "It's toast"
- it took the full fury. It is matchsticks and seared soil. It is gone.
California is in a fourth year of severe, extreme drought. Roads that are usually snow covered into June are open. Last Sunday we decided to take a drive, pay our respects, cry.
Looking north into the Rubicon River drainage.
Looking north into the Rubicon River drainage.
I'm told there are 10,000 acre pieces of burned landscape that have
not one living conifer remaining.
We traveled down slope on Wentworth Springs
Road to the intersection with Eleven Pines Road, the only road crossing the
canyon. We found it closed to public access. We could go no further. Our
journey will wait for another day.
Here is an old photo of the Rubicon Canyon.
Along the Wentworth Springs Road, the private timberland is being
cleared of all burned trees that have any marketable value.
Many people are surprised there is so much private property inside the
National Forest boundary. Take a look at an Eldorado National Forest map and
also a map of the Tahoe National Forest. You will see a checkerboard pattern where every
other square mile section of land is white - meaning private property. This
land ownership dates back to the building of the transcontinental railroad in
the 1860's where, as an incentive to build, the railroads were given every
other section of public land out 10 miles on both sides of the corridor. This
land, over the years, has changed ownership many times but most now is owned
by private timber companies.
We headed east, back upcountry and drove into Wrights Lake. Yes, drove
into Wrights Lake. In normal snow years the road does not open until mid June. Wrights
Lake sits at 7000 feet on the western edge of Desolation Wilderness. We have
spent so much time here it feels like home, a place so filled with memories
much like the Rubicon Canyon. In early spring we have seen between 3 and 11
feet of snow here. Not today. We checked out the snow course.
No snow, zero snow for the upcoming end of March survey. The end of February
survey also recorded no snow. Most surprising was the smell. Usually in the spring or early summer when the snow goes the ground has a rich moist, wet smell. Not this year. It smells dry. It smells like summer.
It is a shock to see open water. Ice usually does not start to open
until late May and June.
Buffleheads are already moving through.
South Silver Creek is a beautiful meandering meadow stream where it
enters Wrights Lake.
Although an absolutely beautiful place and many people were delighted
to be able to drive in this early - the parking area had several cars, our
thoughts went back to past trips in May and June (once in July) where an eight or ten mile ski in was
required.
We are left with a deep sense that our world is changing around us,
changing in dramatic ways...............