Road Trippin’ Part 3: The northern creep of fire and brimstone

Commentary

By David Haerle • August 24, 2020 3:30 pm
This view of Mount Lassen from the east was never possible until the Hat Creek Fire devastated the forest curtain in 2012. (David Haerle/The Daily World)
This view of Mount Lassen from the east was never possible until the Hat Creek Fire devastated the forest curtain in 2012. (David Haerle/The Daily World)

Commentary

By David Haerle

The Daily World

Somewhere along the way, while I was leaving Northern California early last week, I picked up a stowaway.

I only caught glimpses, but I’m pretty sure he was a blond, Santa Cruz surfer-looking guy who went by the name of Thor. You know — that God of Thunder dude.

He seemed like he was riding shotgun as I fled Sonoma and Solano counties and made a beeline for the Sacramento Valley, the thunder and lightning crackling all around me and through the AM radio as I listened for news and traffic updates.

I lived in the Bay Area and its environs for two-thirds of my life, and I have never seen an August thunderstorm like this one-two punch to the region. Sure they are common in the Sierra and southern Cascades and even sometimes in the foothills beyond the Central Valley. But two days of sustained summer thunderstorms were unheard of to all my friends who have lived in Bay Area for six decades and more.

“This is not going to end well,” I muttered to myself when another of Thor’s lightning bolts lit up the horizon to my right just as I hit the bypass in Vacaville and punched the 1997 Ford Ranger, trying to get to Interstate 5 northbound as fast as possible.

But that observation was sort of hindsight on my part, having spent 10 days almost accidentally gathering empirical evidence of just how much climate change is messing with my old stomping grounds.

Don’t believe in climate change? Well, go spend a week or so driving through the forests of Northern California and then tell me what you think, especially if you know what they used to look like just 20, 30 or 40 years ago — before the Bay Area’s famed “Mediterranean” climate slowly devolved into the now-semi-arid conditions not meant for those coastal and mountain forests.

I drove more than 2,600 miles that week, and the lion’s share of that was on rural roads through umpteen national forests. I have never seen so much burned-out, otherworldly terrain than on this trip, and I have covered a whole lot of the West by auto the past 55 years or so. But I hadn’t been on some of these roads in about 20 years.

In Lassen County, I drove through the site of the 2012 Rush Fire, which at the time was the second-largest wildfire since these things started being recorded in 1932. It consumed a total of 490 square miles.

And now you can see Mount Lassen — the southernmost member of the Cascade Range — from places you could never see it before, because there was always a dense, mature forest curtain miles deep blocking that view from motorists on Highway 89. Not anymore. The views of Lassen through the few remaining burned-out tree corpses are rather spectacular, if not sad, these days.

That massive fire is quickly dropping down that Top 10 list of California conflagrations as two of the blazes currently torching the oak-dotted rolling hills of the Bay Area have already taken over the No. 2 and 3 spots on that list.

On the western slope of the Sierra Nevada, I drove through the site of the 2013 Rim Fire on my way to the Hetch Hetchy Valley, a massive 2013 wildfire ignited by a hunter’s illegal fire in a remote canyon in Stanislaus National Forest. At the time, it grew to be the third-largest (again, not anymore!) wildfire in California’s history, razing more than 400 square miles. The Rim Fire is still the largest wildfire on record in the Sierra Nevada range. Due to a lack of winter rains, some logs smoldered in the interior portion of the fire throughout the winter. More than a year passed before it was declared out on Nov. 4, 2014.

The day I arrived in Sonoma County, I had an afternoon tee time at Northwoods, an Alister MacKenzie-designed course nestled in the Russian River Valley’s towering redwoods. It was 105 degrees at our 3:30 tee time, so we passed in favor of my golf buddy’s swimming pool. That course is now closed and threatened by one of the three largest wildfires in California history. Sound familiar?

Meanwhile, to the south, near Santa Cruz, another historically massive fire complex overtook Big Basin Redwoods — California’s oldest state park. It was home to ancient coast redwoods. Some of these giants were more than 50 feet around and as tall as the Statue of Liberty. At 1,000 to 1,800 years old, some predated the Roman Empire, according to the park’s website — which is now out of date. because those ancient redwoods are now toast.

But there’s no man-made climate change, right?

And there have been devastating fires every year since. Remember the town of Paradise that PG&E — the region’s privately owned electrical monopoly — burned to the ground a couple of years back?

It didn’t used to be this way folks. Really, I mean it. These used to be lush forests, like the ones we have here. Just about every county I drove through over those 10 days is now on fire because of an August weather pattern like nobody I know can ever remember.

Now, I’m a relatively old guy. I’m not certain how we solve this mess and likely won’t be around to see if we do or don’t. And I am not going to state any political opinions here other than to say, I would really like us to get together globally and figure it out so my grandson will be able to romp through the Cascades and Sierra as I have had the privilege to do for so many years.

Meanwhile, this veritable s&%#-storm is slowly creeping north, and our Northwest forests are going to take to California weather about the same as many people here take to … well, Californians.

And here’s the bottom line for all you local climate-change deniers who don’t believe us empiricists: They are not denying it in Northern California, and those people are freaking out a bit — enough so that many are seriously contemplating getting the literal and figurative hell out of there!

There are approximately 15 million people living in Northern California. Let’s just say, conservatively, that 10% of those decide it’s time to find cooler and wetter climates. What direction do you think those 1.5 million people will head?

And remember, a legion of those will be notoriously hardcore San Francisco 49er fans — the “49er Faithful,” as we like to call ourselves. So just imagine a scarlet-and-gold wave — led by Thor himself — slowly migrating up the I-5 corridor to …? Could the vaunted Seahawk go the way of the northern spotted owl? (Too soon?)

So let me ask you: Is that what you want for your grandchildren?

A view from the west toward Yosemite National Park through the site of the 2013 Rim Fire, still the largest wildfire on record in the Sierra Nevada range. Due to a lack of winter rains, some logs smoldered in the interior portion of the fire throughout the winter. More than a year passed before it was declared out on Nov. 4, 2014. (David Haerle/The Daily World)

A view from the west toward Yosemite National Park through the site of the 2013 Rim Fire, still the largest wildfire on record in the Sierra Nevada range. Due to a lack of winter rains, some logs smoldered in the interior portion of the fire throughout the winter. More than a year passed before it was declared out on Nov. 4, 2014. (David Haerle/The Daily World)

David Haerle/The Daily World A view from the west toward Yosemite National Park through the site of the 2013 Rim Fire, still the largest wildfire on record in the Sierra Nevada range. Due to a lack of winter rains, some logs smoldered in the interior portion of the fire throughout the winter. More than a year passed before it was declared out on Nov. 4, 2014.

David Haerle/The Daily World A view from the west toward Yosemite National Park through the site of the 2013 Rim Fire, still the largest wildfire on record in the Sierra Nevada range. Due to a lack of winter rains, some logs smoldered in the interior portion of the fire throughout the winter. More than a year passed before it was declared out on Nov. 4, 2014.

A huge smoke plume rising from the now-raging Waldbridge Fire in the Russian River Valley of Sonoma County, Calif, looms over the streets of nearby town of Sebastopol last Wednesday. The Waldbridge Fire has destroyed 560 structures during its weeklong rampage in northwest Sonoma County. It’s part of what’s calledf the LNU Lightning Complex fires in Sonoma, Napa and Solano counties that have blackened 347,630 acres, destroying 871 structures and threatening another 30,500. Four residents have died, three in Napa County and one in Solano. (Photo by Annette Vitali-Thompson)

A huge smoke plume rising from the now-raging Waldbridge Fire in the Russian River Valley of Sonoma County, Calif, looms over the streets of nearby town of Sebastopol last Wednesday. The Waldbridge Fire has destroyed 560 structures during its weeklong rampage in northwest Sonoma County. It’s part of what’s calledf the LNU Lightning Complex fires in Sonoma, Napa and Solano counties that have blackened 347,630 acres, destroying 871 structures and threatening another 30,500. Four residents have died, three in Napa County and one in Solano. (Photo by Annette Vitali-Thompson)