A Panel full of stories–and cranes

©Bert Gildart: Certainly one of the most remarkable petroglyph sites we’ve seen in years was the one we saw yesterday at the V-Bar-V Heritage Site.

Once a former ranch the site is located just south of Sedona and is managed (and protected) by the U.S. Forest Service. Adjacent to the site is a lovely campground located along Beaver Creek, and most assuredly the small river was used by the Sinagua, the same group who constructed Tuzigoot.

The site is unique not only because of the huge number of glyphs all contained in one area (a total of 1032 petroglyphs have been identified), but because of some of the figures. Heron-like figures adorn the main panel, but why they dominate is a mystery.

Yet another aspect we appreciated at the V-Bar-V is that there has been little vandalism, and perhaps that is because the ranch was privately owned and not accessible by the general public, a small segment of which has destroyed our antiquities so the majority can no longer enjoy them. As Janie and I have traveled the country we find that is more often the case than not. It’s part of the reason that the Antiquities Act of the early 1900s was necessary. The other reason was to stop the massive pot collecting, rampant at the time. But regardless of how this site came to retain its integrity, it is here now and its features can be studied.

PAIRED FIGUERS

Though many other unique features characterize these panels, one of the most interesting is the paired figures. Look at the

Unique paired figures, probably turtles

first image carefully, and you’ll see two humans and two large female figures. The panel also contains paired turtles, and I’ve included an example here.

Though all these features are interesting in themselves perhaps the most significant feature of the panel is the presence of symbols that appear to be the sun. Linked to those is a long line and some archaeologist believe the line represents a solar calendar. An entire interpretive booklet discusses the possibility and because light touches the line on the day of the summer solstice, the conclusion is accepted by most.

TIME TO PLANT CORN

Fortifying the hypothesis is the further evidence that the Sinagua were an agricultural based society. It’s an easy step then to say that when the sun strikes the line on the third week it June, it was time to plant corn.

Both Janie and I thoroughly enjoy exploring ancient cultures, and as we’ve discovered, the Sedona area with all of its red rocks was apparently a haven for these land based cultures. Why they departed is the never ending question, but apparently by 1500 or so, they were all gone, absorbed perhaps by other tribes.

V-Bar-V is well preserved site

Though the V-Bar-V Heritage Site may contain the greatest concentration of petroglyphs in the Verde Valley, there’s yet another site called Palatki that also has interesting examples of Indian rock art, and that is our destination for today.

Tuzigoot Ruins

©Bert Gildart: Two days ago we checked into Dead Horse State Park in Cottonwood (about 20 miles from Sedona) and have been catching up a little on all the work involved with writing stories while on the go. That includes filing digital photographs and then captioning them. Though it may seem as though we do little more than drift from one place to the other, such is not the case.

However, that is not to say that it’s all work either, and the past two days have also included short trips to some of the endless attractions this area offers that can be enjoyed as mini excursions. First on our list was the Indian ruins known as Tuzigoot.

ANCIENT INDIAN RUINS

Tuzigoot is one of the smaller National Monuments, but it preserves an important component of the Sinagua Indian culture. Once the pueblo consisted of 110 rooms, and in an eroded form the park preserves many of them. The rooms comprising the pueblo are perched high on a hill and gaze over the agricultural land the group once farmed. The group occupied the area from around A.D. 1000 to around 1400. Currently the site preserves 42 acres.

Our explorations of Tuzigoot were made two days ago, shortly after we arrived. Yesterday, Rich and Sadira took sympathy on our need to learn much quickly and rendezvoused with us at our campground then gave us another quick tour of the area they call home. If you know the route, the drive from Prescott to Sedona requires little more than an hour.

Striking on a red rock hike

One of the activities the four of us share in common is the desire to explore local trails, and we drove first to Bell Rock located just on the outskirts of this very tourist-y town. Art galleries were everywhere and so were adventure exploring stores. One of the jeep touring stores actually had a Native American dressed in very traditional garb trying to lure folks in. He was the only Indian we saw.

We visited several of the stores to include the “Life is Good Store,” and “Rollies Camera” and a health food store.

THINGS HAVE CHANGED

I’ve been here before, but that was 20 years ago, and as we walked around I could not suppress my absolute horror at the way in which Sedona has grown. Gated communities and major housing developments are now creeping on the sides of the beautiful red rock canyons that initially lured these folks here. On the plus side is that most of the homes blend in with their surroundings, for they are all constructed of rock and that rock, of course, is from local sources. Though I’m not sure, I believe Sedona strictly governs the way in which people can build, and that, I think, is good. Sedona, for example, is the only place in the world where you’ll find a McDonald’s Hamburger demarcated by a small purple “M”. No golden arches here.

Oh, that were the way of things back in Montana’s Flathead Valley.

Bell Rock

Fortunately, some of the land surrounding Sedona remains in public ownership, and that included Bell Rock and the trails that surround it. We hiked one 2-mile long trail that wound through the rocks. Many other people were also hiking (or biking) the trail, but the majority of folks were several miles away in Sedona, shopping. Though I’ll never understand the way in which some people place priorities, I’m glad that’s the way it apparently is.

Our companions were of a similar mind and we hope to see them again soon. As Rich has noted in one of his blogs, that could happen this summer in Bozeman, Montana, for that’s where the International Airstream Rally will be held.

Today, we’re off for a tour of Montezuma’s Castle.

Armed escort

©Bert Gildart: Was the trip Janie and I took in Organ Pipe National Monument in a van flanked by an armed escort to a closed section of the park known as Quitobaquito dangerous?

Nothing on our trip would lead us to believe that it was. However, upon completion of the half-day adventure one of the park naturalists scurried up to Janie and me and asked us if the photographs we took of park rangers with their M-16’s might be used in a magazine?

“Please,” she said, “though we think it would be OK, not everyone appreciates all our rangers are trying to do. We don’t want to jeopardize their lives in any way. If you intend to use them, please mask their faces.”

Obviously, that’s what we’ve done for the sake of this blog–and will do for a story I will soon be writing for the Affinity Group, which produces many publications to include Trailer Life and Motorhome. Not only did I place “+’s” over their faces, but I blurred the images–and did not use the closeup images I’d taken. Nevertheless, you can almost feel, I believe, the level of protection they’re providing our group of about 10. As we walked around the springs surrounded by dense vegetation, the rangers preceded us, checking the trail for tracks and for the actual presence of illegals.

The question, of course, is why is all this necessary?

“IT’S PROBABLY AN OVERKILL”

The park is launching a pilot project, trying to open portions of the park that have been closed since 2002, when Ranger Chris Eggle was savagely killed by a drug lord. “If one of our visitors were harmed,” said Superintendent Lee Baiza, who graciously gave me a few minutes of his time yesterday afternoon, ” it could ruin this park.”

Still Superintendent Baiza wants to reopen sections of this park that have been closed and he obviously thinks the time is right–that essentially it is safe. “It’s probably an overkill,” said Baiza, “but we just don’t want to leave anything open to chance.”

Quitobaquito

Quitobaquito is the right place to reopen first, and for Baiza there may even be a few personal reasons. Baiza recalls when he once worked along the border in the late 1990s. He’d found some downed barbed wire, and some kids from Mexico came over, then an old man. “We all talked and had a very relaxed time. Of course, times are different now, but wouldn’t it be nice to go back to those days?”

WHY QUITOBAQUITO?

Baiza’s reasons, of course, go deeper than pleasant conversation. Bottom line, it has to do with the resource and with we visitors who are entitled by mandates to see those resources. Quitobaquito, then, was the perfect spot.

Historically, the springs provided a watering hole for Native Americans, for Spanish explorers and for the ranchers who later bought the land. Quitobaquito is also where an endangered species of pup fish has carved out a living for thousands of years. And, as we learned from our morning’s trip, it is simply a beautiful area where cotton wood trees grow large and where birds of all descriptions congregate.

30 mile-long fence helps

It is an area that visitors should be able to see, something with which Mr. Baiza most emphatically agrees. In fact, Baiza, who transferred here last May from Petrified Forest National Park to assume the position of superintendent in Organ Park, so fervently believes that park visitors should see the area that he has pushed forward a trip that may be one of the most unique in North America.

Baiza refers to the original mandates of the national park service, noting they stipulate that the park’s resources must be protected and that they shall be made available to visitors. That is what Baiza is attempting to do, but the manner, of course, is certainly unique. In fact, it may be the only place in the United States where visitors see some of the park’s spectacles accompanied by an armed escort–all preceded by an area patrol.

LEVEL OF PROTECTION

Prior to our departure, the border patrol canvassed the same dirt road our group would later drive–and hike. After assuring the area contained no illegal immigrants, visitors then loaded into a van, and it was flanked by a border patrol and rangers in vehicles who were armed with M-16’s. These are heavy duty guns, used in Vietnam. But this is serious business, and what makes it particularly dramatic is that we weren’t exploring sections of some country that bears us ill will, rather we were exploring one of our own national parks.

“You’ve hit on the reasons,” said Baiza, “when I asked him what would happen if marijuana were legalized and if illegal immigrants were offered work passes. “That’s at the root of our problem, and we hope the fence we’ve just constructed will take care of part of the problem.”

Endangered pup fish

The fence Baiza is referring to now runs along the southern border of Organ Pipe. It parallels Highway Two that also runs parallel to the Organ Pipe border but on the Mexican side. Previously, drug dealers could drive into the park in four-wheel drive vehicles and, then, because the park is so remote, they could easily drive on, thereby conducting their own illegal activities but also leaving tracks in the desert that will require centuries to heal. Baiza hopes the fence will solve part of that problem, and points out that the upright fence posts are sunk deep into the ground and are so close together that a vehicle can not enter. But that doesn’t stop foot traffic, and that’s a problem Baiza hopes will be controlled with increased surveillance. Presently, thousands of illegal use some part of this 30-mile long border each year to gain access into the United States.

Baiza says that he doesn’t know what the future holds, though he is doubtful if visitors will ever be able to make private trips to Quitobaquito as they could prior to 2002, the year drug pushers killed Chris Eggle.

WHAT DOES FUTURE HOLD?

But whatever the future holds, Quitobaquito is certainly worth a visit in whatever manner is deemed necessary. Not only does it contain the beautiful springs, but it also contains the Senita, a cousin to the organ pipe that has unique characteristics and grows nowhere else in the United States except in Organ Pipe.

Ocotillo added to day’s beauty

The area also contains all the other beautiful examples of the Sonoran Desert, and when we visited, Ocotillo was blooming in profusion. Like all else at Quitobaquito it gladdened our day, and made us appreciative of all the National Park Service is doing to protect the resource and make available those resources to us visitors.

We recommend the trip and believe anyone who has faith in what is probably an overkill of protection, take in the half day adventure–and then write your representatives and let them know you support the park’s efforts. Tell them you hope they will continue to provide the funding necessary to help resolve this national disgrace. Tell them drug lords and illegal immigrants should not dictate visitor access to national treasures.

Twin Peaks Campground and mountains in Mexico

©Bert Gildart: Last year about this time we camped for almost a week in Organ Pipe National Monument. Subsequent to our stay I wrote several magazine stories, and posted a number of blogs that focused on the park’s beauty, but also on its tragic problems. We’ve returned again because this is one of the nation’s premier desert parks–and because we’re curious to see what new procedures have been implemented to enable the American people to continue enjoying Organ Pipe. For the most part, we’re delighted with our findings…

SPECTACLAR CAMPGROUND SETTING

Immediately adjacent to Twin Peaks campground in Organ Pipe National Monument, there is a mountain you can climb that enables you to peer over the assortment of enthusiastic campers–as well as the Cubabi Mountains about five miles to the south. The mountains are in Mexico and it is this proximity that continues to create an immense problem for National Park Service managers. Not only do the lovely mountains flank the park but so does a 30-mile long boundary, and unfortunately, it is extremely difficult to patrol. Each year literally thousands of illegal immigrants stream across this border, some seeking work and a better way of life.

Others, however, are desperately pushing drugs, and they are creating a dangerous situation in Organ Pipe National Monument, a situation the park is struggling to remedy. In some cases, they’ve closed sections of the park or are offering special trips so that visitors can enjoy the special heritage the monument preserves.

Visitors saw Gila Monsters on Ajo Mountain Drive

“National Park Administered areas are the keepers of our American heritage,” says Andy Fisher, Chief of Interpretation. “If you want to learn about legal immigration and your possible ancestors, you go to Ellis Island. If you want to learn about the Civil War, you go to Gettysburg. Likewise, if you want to learn about the organ pipe this is the only place in the nation where you can do that. That’s not easy to do right now, but our new superintendent is doing everything possible to make it possible to see all this park has to offer.”

FLORAL DISPLAYS

Fisher continues, emphasizing that it is in fact, safe to visit much of this desert park. “Flowers”, she says, “are at their peak right now, and there are few places you can go to see such immense spreads of brittle brush. And the Ajo Mountain Range is always spectacular.” Fisher continues, saying that those areas that are not safe are either closed or can be visited with an organized and armed patrol.

“The superintendent is working hard,” says Fisher, “to make the entire park accessible once again to all visitors. Right now the task is not easy and is exemplified by a trip now being offered to one of the park’s most beautiful springs, Quitobaquito.

Cholla, now in bloom

The springs is home to the pupfish, a tiny species that provided the students of Ajo, Arizona, with a project that won Ms. Fisher the prestigious Freeman Tilden award, something I learned not from Ms. Fisher, rather from Sharon Genaux, one of the park volunteers, who is proud of her association with the innovative naturalist. “Andy won first place regionally and second place nationally. Quite an accomplishment.”

The award was for a project Ms. Fisher spearheaded. Between 2005 and 2007 she and students from the junior high school at the nearby settlement of Ajo recreated a refugium at park headquarters that replicates the habitat of Quitobaquito Springs. Here, pupfish from the springs can easily be observed in a small pond at the park’s headquarters. “Should something happen to the pup fish at Quitobaquito,” said Genaux, “it’s now preserved here.”

Of course, seeing a replication is not the same as seeing the springs in real life and that is what the superintendent is now struggling to provide. Quitobaquito is located in the park’s southwestern quadrant, within a few hundred yards of the Mexican border. Safeguarding the area is not an easy task and requires an early morning, predawn patrol by a number of rangers. Once the area has been deemed safe from drug runners or illegal immigrants, each week those who have signed up can board a park van and travel with an armed escort to the springs, about 25 miles distance. With time the park is hoping that the installation of the new fence and better patrol will permit more traditional visitation.

Mexican poppy, now in profusion

Though visiting the springs is certainly a park highlight, if you miss the opportunity (and it is limited to about 12 individuals a week) the park still offers an incredible display of natural history features–all safe to explore or attempt to find. The Gila monster is often seen, and right now wildflowers are at their peak. As well, many species of cacti are now starting to bloom–all of which helps to make Organ Pipe National Monument one of the nation’s premier desert parks.

I’d also like to report that I am signed up to visit Quitobaquito next Tuesday, and if it all works out, I’ll have much more to report.

Sunset For the Joshua Tree?

©Bert Gildart: Sunset for the Joshua Tree? That’s what climate scientists say may be the fate for this magnificent species, a member of the lily family that also influences the lives of at least 25 other species.

In other words, if current warming trends continue then global warming will have taken its toll not only on the glaciers of Glacier National Park, the pika of the Great Basin, the polar bear of the Arctic–but also on the Joshua Trees of this diverse California national park.

“It’s happening all ready,” said a park naturalist yesterday at the park’s visitor. “Joshua Trees require cool temperatures in order to flower and set their seeds. Because of global warming, they’re not getting it.”

The National Park Service goes further, and has published an agency-wide brochure. In the brochure, they say that human activities contribute substantially to the current warming trend.

HUMAN ACTIVITY & GLOBAL WARMING

“Most of the observed increase in globally averaged temperatures since the mid-20^th century is very likely (90% certainty) due to the observed increase in anthropogenic greenhouse gas concentration… Carbon dioxide levels in the atmosphere today are higher than they’ve been in over 650,000 years.” The brochure attributes such statements to the Intergovernmental Panel on Climate Change–and its exhaustive research.

Though I’ve attempted to maintain an open ear, living as we do (when not 3/4-quarter timing it in our Airstream) close to Glacier National Park, that has been difficult, and this past summer posted a blog on a hike to Grinnell Glacier Overlook. The hike provides a hard to refute visual example that global warming is real. I realize, of course, that there are many who do not dispute global warming, saying that it is a natural cycle and not human caused.

But judging from the publication of this government brochure and the fact that certain leaders initially attempted to squelch such materials–but now accept it–it appears as though the debate may be over. Certainly the issue won’t be much of a debate among the presidential candidates, as the way the campaign has now shaped up, all (regardless of party affiliation) agree that global warming is real–and that we can control it.

“THERE IS HOPE”

As Janie and I have hiked trails in Joshua Tree National Park, it certainly does appear as though some of the trees are experiencing stress. In some cases portions of trees have died, and whether this is cause and effect, I’m not enough of a desert ecologist to be able to say.

Under stressful conditions trees don’t always produce blossoms

All I know is that park naturalist are saying that trees are dying. But they also say there is some hope: “Regardless of their [global warming factors] causes,” says the brochure, “we must do what we can to manage these impacts, and adapt to the new circumstances they bring.” The brochure concludes it thoughts, saying, “Perhaps the same wisdom that has preserved our heritage in the past can guide us in making choices for the future.”

Some, now blooming in profusion

By inference, I take it that if we group together and insist on responsible action from our leaders that it may not, in fact, be sunset for the Joshua Tree.

(Note: For those who may have attempted to communicate with us, Joshua Tree has no cell phone or Internet access.)

It’s been a good day

©Bert Gildart: Actually, this could also have been entitled RV Maintenance 101, but my theme here is that there are some fundamental maintenance procedures that must be performed regularly, else you might loose some mighty precious cargo. I mean that both literally and metaphorically.

Our problems started several days ago when we discovered that not only was one of the taillights on our Airstream not working but neither was the associated brake light. Initially, I thought the problem might be in the actual bulbs, but a friend said “No, it’s probably a wiring problem.”

So we’d been looking around, and yesterday I discovered that the wire connecting our Dodge Pickup with the Airstream had been partially severed right where one of the sway bars and forward part of the Airstream frame are in close proximity. In my haste I had apparently passed the wire between these two components and then, making an extremely sharp turn–something one might do when navigating into a tight campground site–the sway bars had rotated toward the frame thus pinching the wire.

I discovered the partially severed wire yesterday and though it was something I could repair myself, I certainly can’t perform such repairs as quickly as a mechanic. What’s more it was late in the day and we were close to Baker, a small southern California town, and when we saw a garage, we pulled in. Though the garage was a small one, the mechanic had all the right tools as well as the color-coded wire connectors.

CRACKED HITCH

Stopping for repairs was the best decision I’ve made in a long time. The mechanic quickly made the repair, but then as we were hooking back up–passing the connecting wire on the outside of the sway bars–the good man discovered a substantial crack in the hitch, as shown in the accompanying photo. The crack was on both sides of the slide-in hitch.

Cracked Hitch!

I immediately called George Sutton RV in Oregon, the firm that sold us our Airstream. The service rep said they’d never had such a problem before and that they would check with the company that actually makes the hitch assemblage and see about remuneration. Hitch assemblages are not cheap and run about $700.

Back in Baker now, the mechanic said he was also a certified welder, and that if he wasn’t he would not undertake the job. “I would not,” he emphasized, “send you back on the highway with a problem that could be life threatening.”

ZEN AND THE ART…

An hour later and $100 dollars poorer, we wax philosophical, joking about how I once forgot to inset the cotter pin into the shank of the slide-in hitch that in turn fits into the receiver. I caught that problem, but it became a metaphor for the two of us on travel and on life in general.

We have concluded that we must, on a regular basis, inspect not only the cotter pins on the connecting components of our Airstream and truck, but also the cotter pins of our lives. I guess we could now add wiring and shanks. Pretty corny, perhaps, but it has helped make all of our journeys proceed more smoothly.

And so we were reminded again last night about Zen and the Art of Airstream Maintenance and all of the attendant ramifications. (Robert M. Pirsig’s Zen and the Art of Motorcycle Maintenance is one of my favorite all-time books.) Of course, a little luck is involved sometimes, but tonight we’re counting our blessings.

The sun is setting, we’re camped FREE on a small parcel of our nation’s vast BLM lands, and there is a red glow on the nearby mountains.

It’s been a pretty darn good day.

Exploring Salt Creek

©Bert Gildart: As RV enthusiasts Janie and I meet all types of people, and generally, we enjoy them all. That includes most motorcycle groups, but yesterday, we encountered a group at the Furnace Creek restaurant that no one appreciated. One small woman helped resolve the problem.

We–and many others–had been enjoying a quiet meal, when suddenly, the early morning silence was broken by a group dressed in black leather jackets. And they were loud!

One fellow was particularly obnoxious, yelling at his companions about how their Harley’s made mincemeat of Death Valley’s passes, and how, by God, they were going to tear up the valley’s other flank. What amazed Janie and me is that so many of the men and woman appeared to be respectful people–and perhaps some were.

QUIETED BY ONE SMALL WOMAN

This loud talk went on for about 15 minutes, and suddenly, a small elderly woman charged over to the most boisterous of the group. She asked him to please tone it down. In response, he shouted, “I will not be quiet!

She responded, furious by now, “Why don’t you just shut up!”

We were astounded, but her comment seemed to work, probably in part because all of the other patrons in the restaurant were focused on this Harley group. Nevertheless, one in their group, a middle-aged goateed man hollered out, “Hey, Charlie. You’ve been told. Guess you’d better quiet it down.”

Where, we wondered, was the manager of the Furnace Creek Restaurant?

When Janie and I departed we stopped by the lady’s table and I thanked her. “Wish I’d had your nerve,” I said.

“Yes,” added Janie, “thank you very much.”

Though most in the group remained quiet, the goateed man repeated himself. “Hey, Charlie (who by now was in fact subdued), hold it down over there. You’ve heard it again so you’d better behave!”

Amazingly Charlie remained quiet, embarrassed, perhaps, by the one small woman.

DESERT PUPFISH

For the past few days, the wind here in Death Valley has been howling, gusting at times to 40 miles per hour. Still, several days ago we enjoyed a wonderful hike along Salt Creek, home to an unusual specie, the Desert Pupfish.

Curious coyotes leaves tracks

Pupfish are not known to exist anywhere else in the world except for Death Valley and a few places near the park, which is what makes their survival in Death Valley so vital. Scientists believe that their ancestors lived 15,000 years ago in Lake Manly, a huge lake that once filled much of this valley. The lake’s legacy is now Badwater, and the Devil’s Golf Course.

Pickleweek, with segments to absorb salt

For several hours Janie and I hiked this stretch, and when we inserted our hands into the soil and tasted it, the land was salty; so was Salt Creek, which brochures say registers about seven percent, the same essentially, as our body. What’s more, the water was warm, and at 70°, it was too warm for most creatures. Nevertheless, Pupfish live-and thrive-here.

Though we have seen desert pup fish in the past, February is too early in the season, as most of the tiny fish lay huddled in the mud below the surface, save and secure from all but an occasional coyote. Perhaps that would be a a good place to relegate a few members of that cycle group.

Yaquitepec, truely a wilderness home

©Bert Gildart: The trail was steep and rocky, and following a one-hour hike, Janie and I finally reached Yaquitepec, the site of the eroding ruins of a home Marshall South and his wife Tanya began building in February 1930. Here they remained until September 1946.

They had removed themselves from civilization hoping their lifestyle of simplicity would complement the flood of writing that both Tanya and Marshall produced. What we found, however, as we poked around the old homestead now being absorbed by the overwhelming wilderness in which they had once worked, were ruins. And they were a metaphor for their “experiment.”

For awhile, all seemed to go well for the Souths. Three children were conceived here, and art work produced. In his years at Yaquitepec Marshall wrote hundreds of magazine stories. “They were popular,” wrote Randall Henderson, editor of Desert Magazine, “because he expressed the dreams which are more or less in the hearts of all imaginative people.” Often complementing those stories was Tanya’s poetry. Marshall also wrote five novels, all popular at the time.

INFLEXIBLE NATURE

But underlying all of these achievements was an inflexible nature, and that, more than anything else, probably contributed to their downfall. Wrote Henderson in a book we had carried in our day-pack to Yaquitepec: “Marshal’s tragedy was that he tried too hard to fulfill his dream. He would not compromise. And that is fatal in a civilization where life is a never-ending compromise between the things we would like to do and the obligations imposed by the society and economic organization of which we are a part…

“He wanted to raise a family–and impose upon his family his own unconventional way of life.”

Though Henderson may well have been correct, the South’s were living in a time when vast changes were occurring. Our nation was at war and the army considered a part of the land on which the South’s were living to be their land, and in 1945, forced them off. Though permitted to return a year later, the South’s way of life had been disrupted, momentum lost, and they had to start all over again. By this time, the toll of such Spartan existence was taking its toll on Tanya, and she wanted out.

TRAGIC ENDINGS

One winter day she gathered the children and marched down from Ghost Mountain, eventually settling in San Diego. Though there is much in the records to suggest she often looked back during the next 50 years (she died in 1997 at age 99), there is little in the written record, for she remained aloof–and sometimes friendless.

Almost absorbed now by the elements they once cherished

Marshall died in 1948, at the age of 59. He was penniless and so destitute that it remained for Rider, his oldest child, to provide a marker, which he did in 2005. The epitaph read: “Father, Poet, Author, Artist and included as well, one of his poems. Though the poem that follows is not the one on the grave stone, it may well reflect Marshall’s hopes that he did, indeed, leave his mark. The poem is entitled TIME and we begin with his second stanza:

Who owns this land? Beneath the sun,
in blots of indigo and dun,
The shadows of the clouds move by,
beneath the arch of turquoise sky.
Sunlight and shade in patterned change
across the wasteland’s endless range-
Time–on soft feet. And who shall find,
the records we shall leave behind?

Janie and I closed the book about the Souths and continued poking around. Immediately we found the metal frame of the old bed that all five used in the winter for warmth. We could also make out the general layout of their home. We found evidence of the cisterns Marshall constructed to funnel water following the desert’s infrequent rains. But elsewhere agave poked throughout the old structure. So, too, did ocotillo and barrel cacti. Cholla blocked the frame once supporting a door.

EXPERIMENT’S LESSONS?

When Janie and I first learned about the couple, we had cheered for them; hoping to learn of a happy ending. But that was not to be, and we concluded they were lucky to have made it as long as they did, for so much was against them. They contended with war, disruptions to their lifestyle, and a society that at times expressed intolerance. As well, the nation was growing–the population expanding–and their land was coveted by some.

Without funds, they were ill equipped to fight this new battle, a lesson we should not forget. Take heart from the fact that their home-schooled children led very successful lives.

Rocky Trail to Yaquitepec

©Bert Gildart: The desert has always attracted unusual characters, but perhaps the strangest of all were Marshall and Tanya South.

South lived at the end of the steep, rocky trail Janie and I were now climbing, and when we reached it, we hoped to find the abandoned ruins of a weathered homestead that has come to represent one of the most remarkable lifestyle experiments America has known.

Viewed in these contemporary fast-paced times some would call the Souths and their three children forerunners of the Hippy movement. But the Souths were different, they were searching for a way of life that would allow them to work as writers, poets and artists, and do so without relying on handouts. More significantly, they simply loved nature and for 16 years (between 1930-1946) they lived here, attempting to make their style of life work for them.

The South’s almost succeeded and under slightly different circumstances their way might have worked. Janie and I, who had once lived in a 20×24 size cabin in the Arctic, both believed we could understand–at least in part–their motives.

We hiked on, awed by yet another magnificent desert scene…

NO CLOTHING?

Fifty years ago, had Janie and I been hiking this trail, we would have encountered before reaching the old homestead a sign that read as followed:

In the Name Of The GREAT SPIRIT, PEACE.
This is Yaquitepec-Our Home
And in Accordance With the Ideals Of Peace,
Sunshine, Health, Simplicity, Bodily Freedom
And The Simple Faith In The Great Spirit
For Which This Desert Mountain Retreat
Was Established
NO CLOTHING IS WORN HERE
Therefore
If you Cannot Accept And Conform To,
In Clean-minded Simplicity,
The Natural Condition Of Life,
We Ask In All Friendship,
That You Come No Further,
But Return By The Path You Came.
The Peace OF THE GREAT SPIRIT
Be With You Always

Marshal & Tanya South

As Janie and I proceeded toward the mountain’s crest, we half expected to see such a sign, but nothing barred our way–and we continued on, passing through magnificent boulder fields, cresting to overlooks that gazed over some of the world’s most spectacular scenery.

VIEW FROM GHOST MOUNTAIN

We were engulfed by the Carizzo Badlands, as well as the Vallecito, In-Ko-Pah and the Laguna Mountains–all nestled in the shadow of Ghost Mountain, the actual peak on which they lived.

View from Ghost Mountain

Why in the shadow of such overwhelming beauty where Marshal and Tanya produced countless numbers of magazines articles and well received novels did the couple ultimately fail? Those are concerns we wanted to learn more about, but are thoughts we’ll defer for another day or two, giving us time for yet further reflection.

Janie and I hiked on anxious to see what Yaquitepec, the old homestead, might reveal.

Bighorns spar throughout year

©Bert Gildart: Bighorn sheep don’t normally fight in the winter, but as Janie and I ascended the Palm Canyon Trial in California’s Anza Borrego State Park, we could see two young rams butting horns. The fighting wasn’t intense, but it was persistent, and began moments earlier when one of the two males crashed his head time after time against a large rock. Then, another ram walked into the scene, and Ram Number One turned his attention.

Janie and I had come to this premier park to gather material for a travel story. As well, we wanted to learn more about the Peninsular Bighorn Sheep. Only 280 of this subspecies remain in the United States and 200 find refuge in the park. This was not the first time we had visited Borrego to find sheep, but yesterday was the first time we did, in fact, find them. As a photographer I was delighted by the action of the two rams, knowing, however, that such bouts occur throughout the year, and that often by the time mating season rolls around in the fall, a hierarchy among males has long been established.

Ten years ago Janie and I had visited Anza Borrego, and because I was working on a book about Bighorn Sheep (published by Northword) I had visited with Mark Jorgensen (now the park’s superintendent). At the time he was the park’s terrestrial ecologist and he had related to me a story about just how hard it can be to find bighorns.

SHEEP MIGRATE IMMENSE DISTANCES

Jorgensen said that in 1993 he had found a sick ram in Borrego Springs and that he had captured it and then placed it in a wild animal park to convalesce. Three weeks later, they radio collared the ram and then released it near Montezuma Grade, where it immediately traveled 70 miles. From there the ram traveled 45 miles to In-ko-Pah near the Mexico border, where he stayed for a full year until the next summer’s breeding season.

Collaring reveals sheep still migrate immense distances

“Then,” Jorgensen had explained to me, “Number 270 disappeared.” Using aircraft they eventually found the old ram now another 75 miles away. “Number 270 had crossed five mountain ranges and moved through dozens of canyons.”

The sheep we saw yesterday could have been moving, just as Jorgensen’s Number 270, for sheep are famous for their migrations. Sheep, in fact, were not native to North America, having migrated from Siberia over 10,000 years ago. They are a magnificent animal well known for their social hierarchy, much of which is established by battles that can sometimes be brutal.

HEADS EVOLVED TO WITHSTAND BRUTAL COLLISIONS

Heads and horns of bighorn sheep have evolved to withstand the impact of forceful collisions, and scientists have determined these collisions are substantial. When two rams collide their combined speeds can equal 50 to 70 miles per hour. Multiplying that figure by the weights of the two animals suggests a combined output of 2,400 foot pounds of energy.

Head and horns adapted to withstand immense blows

That’s just one of the “Believe-it-or-Not” type features of this magnificent animal, and we are indeed lucky biologists are working hard to preserve this particular subspecies. In fact, the park now has an ongoing program to help the Peninsular Bighorn. Projects include construction of six water sources in the Vallecito Mountains, fencing of the park boundary to exclude trespassing cattle, the live removal of wild cattle from many of the west side canyons, and removal of exotic trees from desert water holes.

Judging from all the people–to include a local school group–who had assembled on the trail to watch the rams, the biologists’ efforts are much appreciated. Several in the group wondered about the scratch marks on the back of one of the rams, which we all concluded could have been made by a cougar. If that was the case, this ram was indeed lucky.

Students stop to admire the endangered Peninsular bighorn

Janie and I sat along the edge of the trail for over an hour, and before departing, counted 21 rams. They continued to move toward us, and for awhile, we had the group all to ourselves. Every now and then two of the rams would face one another, and occasional butt horns, but soon they moved on.

Because of previous attempts to find this endangered species, we knew we had been fortunate indeed. As Janie likes to say, it’ all because we paid respect in Zion National Park to the sheep images Native Americans had created in the form of their Rock Art .

Welcome reprieve

©Bert Gildart: We departed Zion yesterday following another night of subfreezing weather. The canyons have trapped unusually cold weather and when we awoke, it was about 18°F, cold for this part of Utah, but certainly not like what friends and relatives back home in Montana’s Flathead Valley say they’ve been experiencing. There, we understand, it has been -8°F.

Still, Zion was a welcome reprieve after traveling from Ogden to Spanish Forks. In the entire 90 miles (which includes Salt Lake City) we couldn’t find a single place to pull over and use the bathroom in our trailer. Conditions seemed more intense than driving around Newark, New Jersey; New Orleans, Lousiana, L.A., California. Everywhere were huge trucks pulling two–and sometimes–three trailers of gravel, earth-moving equipment, and mobile homes. There were horns blaring–and new cookie cutter homes everywhere.

What a relief to pull into Zion and spend a few quiet days hiking. Little competition from others on the trail, either, and that was nice, too. In fact, we were one of about six campers in the park’s Watchman Campground.

CANCELLED SPEECH

A friend in the valley also wrote me about some disturbing news, saying that the school board in Choteau, Montana had cancelled Dr. Steve Running’s speech. Running is one of the scientists who won a Nobel Peace Prize for his work on Global Warming. His speech was intended for Choteau’s high school students.

Looks like they believe the best way to gain ground on an issue is to silence their opponents.

Though I have strong feelings on the issue and wrote a story this summer for the magazine produced by the Wilderness Society (and another –and another –for this blog) I do believe others have well thought out opinions on the subject, and would certainly post opposing views. In a free country the school board’s actions seem unprecedented for good decisions are generally made after all the facts have been gathered.

I’ll bet the Choteau School board gets more grief from its decision than they ever thought possible.

For several days at any rate, all these concerns were pushed into the background by the beauty of Zion National Park–its towering peaks and the slick red rock, which carried names such as Court of the Patriarchs, Temple of Sinewava, The Great White Throne… Together these magnificent forms pushed unsettling thoughts into the recesses of our minds.

The Way to Angel’s Landing

That’s the way it was for us in Zion, and I’ve posted several photographs from our hike toward Angel’s Landing, the latter portion of which was closed because of dangerous ice conditions. Amidst such beauty all else is forgotten–at least for the moment.

Blacktail Ski Trail & winter woods

©Bert Gildart: Four degrees here this morning in Montana’s Flathead Valley, and the temperature is a reflection of the conditions that have enveloped us these past few days. Snow now blankets our little section of the world, but it is not a time to hibernate, rather it is an ideal time to get out the cross-country skis.

It’s a perfect way in fact to end the old year and begin the new. It’s a perfect way to experience the world from a different perspective.

That’s what we may do today taking our cue from the beauty of winter as we experienced it yesterday at Blacktail, a section of land managed by the Forest Service that is laced with winter trails. We were joined by two friends, Pat and John Clay, who bought our first Airstream, and, as we all joke, are still good friends.

The trail which we skied is called the Alpine Trail and it courses about six miles. It’s not a particularly lofty trail, but is located about 3,000 feet above Flathead Lake.

Depending on which parking spot you start from, the trail either climbs or descends about a thousand feet. Deer, moose and elk are some of the creatures that inhabit the area and in the fresh snow we saw dozens of trails testifying to their presence. At several places along the trail the woods open up providing commanding vistas of Flathead Lake and the Swan Mountain Range to the east.

LURE OF THE WINTER WOODS

For me, at any rate, I venture into the woods in this way for the solitude and peace one finds in such settings. Up here, sounds are derived from nature. Grey jays interjected their calls and occasionally there was the swish of soft snow cascading through branches of fir and spruce.

And then, of course, there were the spectacular views of the valley below unmarred from this distance by the scurrying of people–going frantically sometimes–about their business. Though I have no particular New Year’s resolutions to share, today, on January 1, 2008, I’m reminded, after enjoying a perfectly tranquil setting yesterday, of the frantic nature we humans force upon ourselves and others–and of the chaos it sometimes creates not only in the valley that yesterday seemed so tranquil, but in the world at large.

Flathead Lake as seen from ski trail

I guess what I’m suggesting is that if you are surrounded by the winter woods, take a little time to get out in them. Here at any rate, one really good way to do that is to whisk along some cross-country ski trail, stopping occasionally to appreciate what may well have lured you here in the first place.

HAPPY NEW YEAR!

©Bert Gildart: As a brief follow up to the postings written for my granddaughter about “Pero the Luckiest Mouse

Tme-honored relation, mouse & Owl

Alive” and about “Mice and Airstream Travel Trailers,” I want to add that, ecologically, mice rank high in the order of importance. In fact, if you enjoy owls and hawks and the occasional howl of the coyote, we’re lucky they’re here.

In this part of Montana (from a mammal book I wrote years ago for GNP), there are seven different species of mice-like creatures, and although the layman commonly refers to these rodents as mice, the biologist categorizes them as voles, lemmings and mice. Specifically, they include red-backed, montane heather, water, long-tailed and meadow voles. All are distinguished by their short hind legs, a short furred tail and ears that can just barely be seen. All five voles are distributed from our valley floor to alpine areas.

The lemmings of more northern fame are represented only by the bog lemming. This one, as its name implies, makes its home in wet bogs and meadows where there is a thick mat of ground vegetation. If its shorter tail is not noticed, it is easily confused with the voles. Lemmings are rare in Montana’s Flathead Valley.

Mice, as most people know them, are most typified in Glacier by two species, which may easily be distinguished from other mouse-like animals by their large, conspicuous eyes, ears and long tails. Specifically, I’m referring to deer mouse of yesterdays posting and to the western Jumping mouse.

All the above are essential to the existence of such predatory creatures as the Saw Whet owl, shown here. They are also, essential to all the valley’s other predators such as wolves and coyotes and the dozens of different hawks that constantly circle overhead. Without mice, these species would perish.

Except when “Pero” invades my Airstream, I’m happy they’re all here.

Thanksgiving Pardon

©Bert Gildart: Despite the bad manners of this and other turkeys, which continue to gather at our bird feeder, today we pardoned these turkeys. We have absolved them of their sins.

Our pardon is unlike the annual presidential pardon, which grants some lucky turkey life for a sin whose only crime was to grow fat on an obscure farm. Our pardon forgives real sins. Our pardon forgives the many turkeys that not only gather at our feeder, but also those that knock over the feeder in their effort to expose the seed. Worse yet, our pardon forgives those that poop all over the deck and the railing that supports our feeder. Some might consider all unforgivable sins, particularly the later.

I, however, realize that the turkey is a bird deserving of much respect, and to support my contention quote from columnist Ellen Goodman, who in turn was quoting Greg Butcher of the Audubon Society. “It’s a strange era,” said Butcher, “where every species is either too common or too rare.”

TURKEY‘S ATTRIBUTES SUPERIOR

Butcher continued, saying that the “differential” seems to be the creatures’ “willingness to put up with the human lifestyle.” Goodman concludes her column with a thought of her own, saying that “Maybe Ben Franklin was right when he said that the wild turkey–not the bald eagle–should be our national bird.

“After all,” concluded Goodman, “the eagle in all of its restored glory, soars majestically above the fray. But the turkey is down here, gobbling, squabbling and flourishing, while we try to figure our place in the pecking order.”

I like the philosophies that seem to crop up around Thanksgiving and recall that last year at this time, we were traveling in North Carolina, and had just visited an Indian chief at the Cherokee Heritage Center. We learned much from that visit and received several comments from a subsequent Thanksgiving posting based on our visit with Mr. Wolf.

Despite bad manners, these turkeys were granted a reprieve

Check it out, but in the meantime both Janie & I wish everyone many, many Happy Thanksgivings.

HAPPY THANKSGIVING! HAPPY THANKSGIVING! HAPPY THANKSGIVING

©Bert Gildart: Last night I read with much concern the blog posting of a friend of mine who travels extensively in his Airstream–just as we do. In his posting he said that in all of his travels he knows of but two areas in the country where one can still camp on a beach unfettered with vast directives. Specifically, he mentioned Padre Islands in Texas, and Oceano Dunes State Vehicular Recreation Area at Pismo Beach, California. Janie and I have also traveled extensively, and we agree: virtually everything else has been developed, and we find that tragic.

THE FLATHEAD’S TRANSFORMATION

One reason that my friend’s thoughts struck such a chord is that an urban blight is now invading the Flathead Valley, the area I call home. I moved here shortly after graduating from high school because the Flathead was such a relatively pristine area.

Once the sky (see below) was his domain

That was back in the ‘60s. Now, forty-some years later, the valley’s transformation is not only a tragedy in itself but symptomatic of a national disease. So virulent is this problem here in the Flathead that our local newspaper informs readers that by the year 2020, ever last bit of space that can be developed in the valley will be developed. Obviously, our local paper was not referring to such local areas as the Bob Marshall Wilderness, which is not far from our home.

Much of this clutter could have been avoided. But a group of unregulated developers–many from out of state–descended, and they were flush with the bottom line. One of them is a developer from the mid-west and he is now proceeding with what will in several years be Montana’s largest mall. He doesn’t really live here; he just develops here, and then leaves. Everyone I associate with knows him as “Bucky.”

FAMOUS PILOT WAS PASSIONATE ENVIRONMENTALIST

Though I have joined others of like mind in opposing such developments, we’ve not gained much ground, and there’s not much we can do except take solace in the fact that extremely well known and much respected people who have preceded us have also taken strong stands. One of those individuals was not only an Air Force general, but also a corporation man, and so his thoughts (You know of him, but can you guess his name without looking?) might surprise you. After having flown over every single state in the nation, he wrote:

“I have seen fencing pushing westward, enclosing once open land. I have seen bird and animal life disappear. I have seen towns and cities spring up where there were none before. Forest land converted into agriculture, farm land in turn become suburban subdivisions, mountains slashed through with power lines and superhighways, rivers and lakes fouled by pollution, the skies over even small towns hazed by smog–all evidence of human thoughtlessness about their environment.”

The man who penned these words was Charles Lindbergh, and though I could not find an exact date for these expressions, I believe he wrote them in the ‘60s. He died in 1974.)

BOB MARSHALL OBSERVATION

Am I disappointed? Yes, but I’ll get over it as bitterness is self defeating–and I haven’t thrown in the towel. There’s still work that can be done… As Bob Marshall, founder of the Wilderness Society once said:

“There is just one hope of repulsing the tyrannical ambition of civilization to conquer every niche of the whole Earth. That hope is the organization of spirited people who will fight for the freedom of the wilderness.”

Grinnell Glacier in 1979

©Bert Gildart: Publication wise, this has been a good month for me, with four stories and a number of photographs in various publications. All my materials are in good magazines, but my most important story is one appearing in this issue produced by The Wilderness Society.

GLOBAL WARMING

My story in that magazine is about global warming and it required that I interview a number of well respected scientists. These men and women are the same types of scientists who have helped eradicate polio, map out the human genome, and who have sent astronauts into outer space. I was flattered they shared valuable time with me.

What is indisputable is that global warming is occurring, but what some of us still question is whether global warming is: man caused, part of a natural cycle–or both.

PRESTIGIOUS SCIENTISTS

Though the photographs included here were not part of my story for The Wilderness Society, they reflect changes that have occurred in my own back yard, specifically, Glacier National Park. I’ve taken these photos at various times over the past 30 years, the first shown here in 1979.

Grinnell Glacier, 2006

These three images dramatize the phenomenal change that have recently occurred. Doctor Dan Fagre, a global warming scientist in Glacier, considers Grinnell to be the “poster child of global warming.” He says that all glaciers in Glacier National Park will be gone by 2030–”if not sooner.”

The second photo, working from top to bottom, shows Grinnell Glacier in 2001–less than quarter of a century later. Once, as the first photo shows, Grinnell was a massive chunk of ice. In fact, in the early 1900s the glacier extended about a mile down the valley.

Obviously, Grinnell has shrunk in both mass and length, something easy to see by comparing photos. For reference, look at the small pointed peak just a little to the left of center. Then find that same peak in my first photo and examine the similar foregrounds. Compare the ice mass in the first photo with what now remains.

A GLACIER’S RAPID DEMISE

In fact, this once massive ice chunk has receded to such an extent that the name Grinnell Glacier has essentially been replaced by the name Grinnell Lake, or what you now see in the third photograph (and in my summer posting ). This photo was taken in 2005.

A massive glacier has been replaced by ‘Grinnell Lake’

Though this sequence of photos may not settle the question of what is causing global warming, it certainly does show the rapidity with which change is occurring in Glacier.

Read my story in the magazine produced by The Wilderness Society and you will see that similar changes are occurring throughout the nation.

©Bert Gildart: Two criminals escaped as parolees from an Oregon prison were apprehended the other day just north of Bigfork, Montana. They were less than a mile from our home near Creston. Both were hardened criminals and one had committed murder.

DIVERSION FROM USUAL THEMES

For those of you who follow this blog, that’s old news, but some of the interesting facts learned after their apprehension are not. How the community–and particularly how some of the neighbors in our small community responded–is a commentary in itself. And so, I’m going to deviate here from my usual themes of travel writing and photography and from RV travel. Still, there’ s moose photo waiting just below–taken in Yellowstone National Park–just above Mammoth Terrace. It suggests the potential that still exists.

From all reports, one of the escapees had been housed in this rural community by a single lady, who was apparently romantically involved with the man. He’d been there for over a month and had even worked locally as a plumber. But apparently something went sour in their relationship, for that night she (she’s now under arrest, too) and another lady friend were beaten by the escaped convicts and their home trashed.

SHOT AT SWAT TEAM

Somehow one of the women managed to call the sheriff’s office, which brought in a SWAT team. The men shot at the SWAT team, which responded by shutting down our rural road. No one could come or go without a search. Then, because authorities were uncertain were the men had gone, they used a provision in the Amber Alert and closed down the grade school in Creston.

Fifteen miles away, my granddaughter’s school was also affected. Though they didn’t shut down her school, all children were made to follow a drill, meaning authorities directed youngsters to rooms they believed to be secure.

NEIGHBORHOOD RESPONSE

More than anything else, what was particularly interesting is to learn about the way in which neighbors responded. Everyone we talked checked to make sure their guns were loaded, and here in this rural community, where so many hunt, everyone had them–and seemed ready to use them. One lady, whom we knows well, loaded a rifle and went out to her barn, apparently scared, but more scared of the idea of having a potential killer loose on her property. Her husband was away on a business trip.

End of rut for moose, heralding the end of fall

Though she and other neighbors were ready to use their weapons if they had to, as it turned out, no one had to.

One of the criminals, wearing only his underwear, approached a private citizen sitting in his car (not sure why and no one seems to know) and asked for a ride. The citizen responded by taking the criminal down and then holding him until men from the sheriff’s department could respond.

The other criminal was captured along the Flathead River, again very close to our home.

RESUMPTION OF USUAL THEMES

So all is well that ends well and this drama certainly had a satisfactory ending. And now, least anyone thinks this blog is straying too far from the theme of travel writing and photography and from RV travel in general, I want to post a moose photo, one from Yellowstone National Park, certainly one of my favorite places to venture in the fall.

There’s lots of great photo opportunities left there, ones that you shouldn’t miss.

©Bert Gildart: Remember 9/11/2001? How can any one ever forget? Certainly not America’s firefighters who deserve a particular debt of gratitude, though, in reality, it is we who should be honoring them. But today, in Creston, Montana, firefighter Joey Wood was trying to help Americans remember those things for which we tend to believe.

Firefighter Joey Wood Wants Everyone to Remember 9/11

When I first saw Firefighter Wood she was standing in front of the small building representing our rural fire department not far from a plaque asking America’s to remember 9/11. Behind her were two fire trucks polished to perfection-all ready to go.

Ms. Wood was also attired for work dressed as she was in her helmet and fire-retardant suit. The day was hot, but she wanted to call attention to the fact that 9/11 is a day all Americans should come together and remember the many sacrifices so many have made.

Her presence prompted a flood of memories, and I recall that on 9/11 I was hiking in Glacier where I heard the unbelievable rumor that New York had been bombed-and, later, from some ridiculous camper, “that it was the haughty nature of Americans that had prompted the attack.” Possibly the comment was the product of an irrational thought of the moment, when emotions were frayed, though I never learned, for I quickly departed.

Today, I was delighted to visit with Joey Wood and learn that not only are firefighters in Creston trying to help Americans remember the significance of this day, but also, according to Joey, so are fire fighters in other parts of the valley. I also suspect that the Flathead is not unique and the Americans all across the nation are recalling where they were and what they were doing on that tragic day.

Again, I thought how fitting it was that Joey Wood was standing at attention in front of the tiny fire station in Creston, Montana, population, perhaps 30.

Pikas are "Canary in coal Mine."

©Bert Gildart: In the West there’s a land high above timber line—a land occupied by goats and sheep and ptarmigan—that is also occupied by a diminutive creature known as the pika. You may have hiked this region found in the lofty expanses of such national parks as Glacier, Mount Rainier, and Rocky Mountain and sighted this charismatic little mammal.

More than likely, however, before you saw it you heard its distinctive chirp: K-yaak, k-yaak! If so, look among the boulder fields to further confirm the pika’s presence; look for small bundles of dried grass that biologists refer to a “hay piles.”

During the winter, pika use these piles to feed on, and unlike marmots of my last posting, they don’t hibernate, rather they remain active throughout the six long months of bitter cold.

Pikas are members of the rabbit family, but have short ears and virtually no tail, and more significant to this posting, they also live in the lofty wilderness regions of Great Basin to include Ruby Mountain, Arc Dome, Alta Toquina, Table Mountain, and the East Humboldts. Archaeological evidence says pika have inhabited these specific areas for the past 40,000 years and, in the 1940s, were catalogued here by a Dr. Hall in 25 distinct populations.

Fifty years later, in the 1990s, United States Geological Survey biologists Dr. Erik Beever visited these areas and discovered that these same 25 distinct populations were down to 19. Ten years later, Beever again returned but discovered that his earlier tally of 19 was now down to 17 and that the lower edge of these 17 had now moved up vertically by an average of 130 yards.

White-tailed ptarmigan shares alpine home with pika

Dr. Beever considers the pika the equivalent of the canary in a cold mine, and he told me that it is not unreasonable to predict that this tiny creature may soon disappear from the Great Basin, for the habitat on which they depend will soon be gone. He says the arctic alpine regions in which pika live will soon be replaced by subalpine fir and other types of vegetation.

Global warming is very much on my mind, as I have been commissioned to write a story on the subject for a well respected conservation magazine. As a result, I have had the privilege of visiting on phone with some very well educated scientists. These are the same types of devoted people who as a group have helped map the human genome, eradicated polio, placed men on the moon…

So when they say global warming is real and that it is caused by the build up of green house gases, they certainly deserve my respectful attention, especially with all the information they have amassed. In part, they’ve been telling me that contemporaries have examined carbon in core samplings taken from the Antarctic that span 650,000 years. From these cores they also have studied the isotopes of oxygen that span the same number of years and used them to help plot the earth’s temperatures. (The intricacies of how this is performed are a little complex—but it’s not hocus pocus, and can be explained by many a good high school science teacher.)

Mountain goat, another alpine denizen

Most significantly, scientists have then charted these substances on a graph and found that when the earth’s temperatures are highest, carbon is also highest. For me, what’s particularly compelling is t