Landscape that speaks

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm GillerThree Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

The colors of the desert are subtle but there is plenty of color if you take time to look. Except sometimes it can be black or white. That is what you’ll find on the two ends of the Tularosa Basin in southern New Mexico. On the south end are sands of pure white gypsum covering 275 square miles and creeping northward with the prevailing winds. Towards the north end is a 44 mile tongue of lava field that poured southward down valley. These two disparate features are relative newcomers to a sprawling basin out of which no water flows to the ocean.

The sand is a product of this fact, the mountains ringing the basin are rich in gypsum from ancient uplifted seabeds and waters draining from them deposit the dissolved mineral in the low southern end. As the shallow lake formed by this runoff evaporates into a playa the deposits form soft crystals easily eroded by the strong winds, the resulting grains piling up into otherworldly bright white dunes. This process has been going on a mere 25,000 years. This is plenty of time however for plants and animals to adapt to a new landscape. Yucca plants try to outgrow the rising dunes by stretching their stems. Grasses have a quick life cycle, spreading their seed before being engulfed. A species of lizard has evolved from its darker cousins to a nearly white color that blends into the sand.

About 5000 years ago vents on the higher north end began extruding the lava that reached southward eventually covering 127 square miles. Cooling into a nearly black basalt it is the newest land to be found in the region. Still there are creatures that have adapted, including a similar lizard that in the ensuing years has become very dark skinned to blend into its contrary landscape.

There were surely people on hand to witness the birth of this black landscape, possibly during the early days of the white sands as well. No clues as to what this all might have meant to them remain. Their successors some millennia later left us cryptic messages in a spot nearly halfway between these contrasting landscapes. The Three Rivers Petroglyph site has an incredible amount of rock art, but again we can only speculate about the specific message. And folks speculate wildly from nonsense graffiti to evidence of extraterrestrial contact. What is clear from the hillside full of inscribed images is a commitment to art and a strong relationship to the landscape over generations.

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm GillerThree Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Some time later the Apache made a stronghold here first against the furthest outpost of Spanish empire, then for raids on Mexican pioneers before the land was commandeered by the United States. American ranchers came next denuding the grassland, altering most of the basin into a creosote scrubland.

The most dramatic new edition is an increased radiation level. The first glowing plume of the atomic age was seen here on July 16, 1945 when frantic theory became awesome fact in the first mushroom cloud rising from the Trinity site on the basin’s northwest corner.

3rivers13rivers1

3rivers1

The contrasts are compelling. The ephemeral landscape of shifting white and the hardened river of black stone, two opposing features in a gesture of connection, their trajectories striving to meet somewhere in an inhospitable basin. A basin that has seen the pastoral hands of people living softly with the land and witnessed the blinding force of absolute will frighteningly manifested.

Landscape that speaks

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

The colors of the desert are subtle but there is plenty of color if you take time to look. Except sometimes it can be black or white. That is what you’ll find on the two ends of the Tularosa Basin in southern New Mexico. On the south end are sands of pure white gypsum covering 275 square miles and creeping northward with the prevailing winds. Towards the north end is a 44 mile tongue of lava field that poured southward down valley. These two disparate features are relative newcomers to a sprawling basin out of which no water flows to the ocean.

The sand is a product of this fact, the mountains ringing the basin are rich in gypsum from ancient uplifted seabeds and waters draining from them deposit the dissolved mineral in the low southern end. As the shallow lake formed by this runoff evaporates into a playa the deposits form soft crystals easily eroded by the strong winds, the resulting grains piling up into otherworldly bright white dunes. This process has been going on a mere 25,000 years. This is plenty of time however for plants and animals to adapt to a new landscape. Yucca plants try to outgrow the rising dunes by stretching their stems. Grasses have a quick life cycle, spreading their seed before being engulfed. A species of lizard has evolved from its darker cousins to a nearly white color that blends into the sand.

About 5000 years ago vents on the higher north end began extruding the lava that reached southward eventually covering 127 square miles. Cooling into a nearly black basalt it is the newest land to be found in the region. Still there are creatures that have adapted, including a similar lizard that in the ensuing years has become very dark skinned to blend into its contrary landscape.

There were surely people on hand to witness the birth of this black landscape, possibly during the early days of the white sands as well. No clues as to what this all might have meant to them remain. Their successors some millennia later left us cryptic messages in a spot nearly halfway between these contrasting landscapes. The Three Rivers Petroglyph site has an incredible amount of rock art, but again we can only speculate about the specific message. And folks speculate wildly from nonsense graffiti to evidence of extraterrestrial contact. What is clear from the hillside full of inscribed images is a commitment to art and a strong relationship to the landscape over generations.

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Three Rivers Petroglyph Site -Photo by TIm Giller

Some time later the Apache made a stronghold here first against the furthest outpost of Spanish empire, then for raids on Mexican pioneers before the land was commandeered by the United States. American ranchers came next denuding the grassland, altering most of the basin into a creosote scrubland.

The most dramatic new edition is an increased radiation level. The first glowing plume of the atomic age was seen here on July 16, 1945 when frantic theory became awesome fact in the first mushroom cloud rising from the Trinity site on the basin’s northwest corner.

The contrasts are compelling. The ephemeral landscape of shifting white and the hardened river of black stone, two opposing features in a gesture of connection, their trajectories striving to meet somewhere in an inhospitable basin. A basin that has seen the pastoral hands of people living softly with the land and witnessed the blinding force of absolute will frighteningly manifested.3rivers1

Keeping Warm

Roadrunner - Photo by Tim GillerRoadrunner - Photo by Tim Giller

Roadrunner – Photo by Tim Giller

I was beginning to feel real empathy toward ol’ Wile E Coyote and had started to wonder if Acme Co. sold wildlife cameras online. Those roadrunners are aptly named. Nine out of ten of them that we’ve seen were running across or along side the road and being able to get up to 20 mph or more were too elusive for me to photograph. The 10th bird was just causally hunting in the grass a few yards away from Lil’ Squatch the other morning proving once again that sometimes calm patience is a naturalist’s best tool.

There are lots of interesting details about North America’s largest member of the cuckoo family including the fact that they are indeed cuckoos and make sounds appropriate to that name. They also get almost all their water from the animals and plant matter that they eat and in order to conserve moisture they secrete body salt through a gland near their eyes. Roadrunners are able to eat poisonous and venomous creatures including rattlesnakes. They often do this in pairs; one distracting the snake while the other sneaks up, grabs it behind the head and then smacks it to death before swallowing. If the snake is too long you may see a roadrunner dashing around with a tail hanging from its mouth while it’s digesting.

I think the most curious detail about roadrunners is that they have solar panels. I might be biased because I spent quite a few hours (and busted a few knuckles) installing solar panels on Lil’ Squatch with some help from my friend Chris. Having spent a number of subfreezing nights in our unheated and poorly insulated home we’ve also come to appreciate having good placement for the morning sun.

Snow at Prehistoric Trackways NM -Photo by Tim GillerSnow at Prehistoric Trackways NM -Photo by Tim Giller

Snow at Prehistoric Trackways NM -Photo by Tim Giller

The cold can make it hard for us to get out of our cozy bed, but roadrunners go into a state of torpor, lowering their metabolism during the cold nights, and use the sun to jump start their day. On their lower back they have dark skin and they turn their tails toward the desert sun unfolding their feathers to let the solar energy warm their blood. It was a chilly morning and while I was making a second cup of coffee to get me out of my state of torpor our new friend was alternating between snatching up little critters from the grass for breakfast and flashing us his rear end toward the morning sun.

Roadrunner Solar Panels - Photo By Tim GillerRoadrunner Solar Panels - Photo By Tim Giller

Roadrunner Solar Panels – Photo By Tim Giller

Keeping Warm

I was beginning to feel real empathy toward ol’ Wile E Coyote and had started to wonder if Acme Co. sold wildlife cameras online. Those roadrunners are aptly named. Nine out of ten of them that we’ve seen were running across or along side the road and being able to get up to 20 mph or more were too elusive for me to photograph. The 10th bird was just causally hunting in the grass a few yards away from Lil’ Squatch the other morning proving once again that sometimes calm patience is a naturalist’s best tool.

Roadrunner - Photo by Tim Giller

Roadrunner – Photo by Tim Giller

There are lots of interesting details about North America’s largest member of the cuckoo family including the fact that they are indeed cuckoos and make sounds appropriate to that name. They also get almost all their water from the animals and plant matter that they eat and in order to conserve moisture they secrete body salt through a gland near their eyes. Roadrunners are able to eat poisonous and venomous creatures including rattlesnakes. They often do this in pairs; one distracting the snake while the other sneaks up, grabs it behind the head and then smacks it to death before swallowing. If the snake is too long you may see a roadrunner dashing around with a tail hanging from its mouth while it’s digesting.

I think the most curious detail about roadrunners is that they have solar panels. I might be biased because I spent quite a few hours (and busted a few knuckles) installing solar panels on Lil’ Squatch with some help from my friend Chris. Having spent a number of subfreezing nights in our unheated and poorly insulated home we’ve also come to appreciate having good placement for the morning sun.

Snow at Prehistoric Trackways NM -Photo by Tim Giller

Snow at Prehistoric Trackways NM -Photo by Tim Giller

The cold can make it hard for us to get out of our cozy bed, but roadrunners go into a state of torpor, lowering their metabolism during the cold nights, and use the sun to jump start their day. On their lower back they have dark skin and they turn their tails toward the desert sun unfolding their feathers to let the solar energy warm their blood. It was a chilly morning and while I was making a second cup of coffee to get me out of my state of torpor our new friend was alternating between snatching up little critters from the grass for breakfast and flashing us his rear end toward the morning sun.

Roadrunner Solar Panels - Photo By Tim Giller

Roadrunner Solar Panels – Photo By Tim Giller

The National Monument You’ve Never Heard About

It turns out that south central New Mexico is a lot more dynamic than I had previous understood. I’d been to New Mexico before and did a grand 1100 mile, three day tour from south to north and back again with two girl friends. It was a lot of driving and a whole lot of fun and I loved every inch of New Mexico. Even though my friend had been living in the town of Las Cruces we were only in and out in order to see other places. In my and Tim’s travels we met a couple who mentioned the museum in Deming NM and so we made a point to check it out. They have great displays of early life in Deming and are rightfully famous for their collection of Mogollon pottery. It’s worth a detour if you’re in the area.
We also ended up spending at least one more day than we meant to in Las Cruces. Such a chain of events took place and we had the chance to talk to some wonderful people that we realized if we didn’t just leave we could be there for the rest of the year exploring all it had to offer in nearby outdoor activities. For our second night in town we ditched the over priced rv park and headed for a the nearby national monument to see what it was all about. The Prehistoric Trackways National Monument was founded in 2009 in order to protect what was an incredible discovery some 22 years earlier by amateur paleontologist Jerry MacDonald. He had heard from locals of a spot with good fossils. What he found is a world renowned site of fossilized tracks from the Permian Period (approx 240-280 million years ago). It’s extensive and the best example of tracks from that period ever found. Scientists from all over the world have come to study the area. The “area” is now southern New Mexico but, at the time the tracks were being created the area was mud flats along the coast of Pangea in an inland sea near the equator.

MarineFossilsMarineFossils

MarineFossils

As a tourist it’s a bit of a strange place. There is no infrastructure and much of what it’s famous for has been removed to display and protect. At the trail head there are three signboards with a little bit of the information and the trail is well-marked. At the discovery site there is another sign board but nothing to really tell you where to look. Although there are still fossils, petrified wood and tracks to be found in the red stone we took a detour from the trail signs and ended up finding some marine fossils in the gray mudstone. I don’t go out of my way to research how old the rocks are that I’m seeing when I hike but when you’ve got a signboard and it’s telling you they are roughly 280 million years old it was easy to be excited at just the rocks so finding some really good marine fossils made my day.

The next day was a surprisingly abundant and unusual snow storm in Las Cruces. We had heard rain and wind all night. When it stopped we’d assumed that meant things were clearing up when in reality snow was quietly burying us on a rough dirt road. Sadly we left our camp spot earlier than we would have liked. We were taking in Lil’ Squatch for some tweaking and found ourselves without a home for several hours. I, not understanding what “wet” snow really meant, suggested that we go ahead and pass up the offered ride in favor of a slushy, no sidewalk, one mile jaunt. It turns out that the mechanic just so happened to be located around the corner from the local BLM district office. The power was out and all were leaving but, a man took pity on us and let us in for some maps. They just so happened to have a couple of the slabs from the trackways in the office and he suggested that we check out the local museum of nature and science for even better examples. He also explained that with last years Organ Mountains National Monument acquisition that the Robledo Mountains (where the tracks are found) and the Dona Ana mountains are part of that status. They’re busy trying to figure out the best way for people to gain access to these areas and how best to present the natural history to the public.

PlantfossilPlantfossil

Plantfossil

DimetrodonDimetrodon

Dimetrodon

Before we headed out of town we did make a stop at the museum. It’s a new facility and they have two nicely done displays. First was a good example of the Dimetrodon skeleton that had been put together before the tracks were found and below it are the fossil tracks believed to be made by this pelycosaur. The tracks helped them realize that the animal had walked much more upright than previously understood. A long track laid out in the middle of the room also had an interactive screen where you press a list of questions and videos of Jerry MacDonald answering them played. Listening to his well delivered answers and looking at the displays brought it all together for me. With the Pangea map, his descriptions and the painting above that particular track I could begin to think about what is a pretty foreign ecology. (Read more details here:http://www.nature.nps.gov/geology/nationalfossilday/paleozoic_ptnm.cfm)

The National Monument You’ve Never Heard About

It turns out that south central New Mexico is a lot more dynamic than I had previous understood. I’d been to New Mexico before and did a grand 1100 mile, three day tour from south to north and back again with two girl friends. It was a lot of driving and a whole lot of fun and I loved every inch of New Mexico. Even though my friend had been living in the town of Las Cruces we were only in and out in order to see other places. In my and Tim’s travels we met a couple who mentioned the museum in Deming NM and so we made a point to check it out. They have great displays of early life in Deming and are rightfully famous for their collection of Mogollon pottery. It’s worth a detour if you’re in the area.

We also ended up spending at least one more day than we meant to in Las Cruces. Such a chain of events took place and we had the chance to talk to some wonderful people that we realized if we didn’t just leave we could be there for the rest of the year exploring all it had to offer in nearby outdoor activities. For our second night in town we ditched the over priced rv park and headed for a the nearby national monument to see what it was all about. The Prehistoric Trackways National Monument was founded in 2009 in order to protect what was an incredible discovery some 22 years earlier by amateur paleontologist Jerry MacDonald. He had heard from locals of a spot with good fossils. What he found is a world renowned site of fossilized tracks from the Permian Period (approx 240-280 million years ago). It’s extensive and the best example of tracks from that period ever found. Scientists from all over the world have come to study the area. The “area” is now southern New Mexico but, at the time the tracks were being created the area was mud flats along the coast of Pangea in an inland sea near the equator.

As a tourist it’s a bit of a strange place. There is no infrastructure and much of what it’s famMarineFossilsous for has been removed to display and protect. At the trail head there are three signboards with a little bit of the information and the trail is well-marked. At the discovery site there is another sign board but nothing to really tell you where to look. Although there are still fossils, petrified wood and tracks to be found in the red stone we took a detour from the trail signs and ended up finding some marine fossils in the gray mudstone. I don’t go out of my way to research how old the rocks are that I’m seeing when I hike but when you’ve got a signboard and it’s telling you they are roughly 280 million years old it was easy to be excited at just the rocks so finding some really good marine fossils made my day.

The next day was a surprisingly abundant and unusual snow storm in Las Cruces. We had heard rain and wind all night. When it stopped we’d assumed that meant things were clearing up when in reality snow was quietly burying us on a rough dirt road. Sadly we left our camp spot earlier than we would have liked. We were taking in Lil’ Squatch for some tweaking and found ourselves without a home for several hours. I, not understanding what “wet” snow really meant, suggested that we go ahead and pass up the offered ride in favor of a slushy, no sidewalk, one mile jaunt. It turns out that the mechanic just so happened to be located around the corner from the local BLM district office. The power was out and all were leaving but, a man took pity on us and let us in for some maps. They just so happened to have a couple of the slabs from the trackways in the office and he suggested that we check out the local museum of nature and science for even better examples. He also explained that with last years Organ Mountains National Monument acquisition that the Robledo Mountains (where the tracks are found) and the Dona Ana mountains are part of that status. They’re busy trying to figure out the best way for people to gain access to these areas and how best to present the natural history to the public.

PlantfossilBefore we headed out of town we did make a stop at the museum. It’s a new facility and they have two nicely done displays. First was a good example of the Dimetrodon skeleton that had been put together before the tracks were found and below it are the fossil tracks believed to be made by this pelycosaur. The tracks helped them realize that the animal had walked much more upright than previously understood. A long track laid out in the middle of the room also had an interactive screen where you press a list of questions and videos of Jerry MacDonald answering them played. Listening to his well delivered answers and looking at the displays brought it all together for me. With the Pangea map, his descriptions and the painting above that particular track I could begin to think about what is a pretty foreign ecology. (Read more details here:http://www.nature.nps.gov/geology/nationalfossilday/paleozoic_ptnm.cfm)Dimetrodon

Wolves and Wilderness

It’s as if we resent those things that are truly wild. As if, having slowly tamed ourselves, we recognize subconsciously that something is missing and we harbor animosity towards those raw and wild things that remind us of what we’ve given up. That could be one way to look at how shabbily we’ve treated some of the things we share this place with. The black bear who steals your picnic basket is only following a biological imperative to acquire easy calories. It is our behavior that is aberrant when we go to its home and expect it have our table manners.
No creature better embodies our ambivalence than the wolf. At some point, perhaps when we were more wild than civilized, wolves and humans chose to cohabitate and thus we now have man’s best friend. Do we feel jilted by those that stuck to the woods and did not approach our prehistoric campfires? Our fairy tales and mythologies show the wolf as blood thirsty and sinister and we spent the better part of American history eradicating them from our surroundings while giving their docile brethren a spot on the couch.

Display at Nature Center near Gila Wilderness - Photo by Tim GillerDisplay at Nature Center near Gila Wilderness - Photo by Tim Giller

Display at Nature Center near Gila Wilderness – Photo by Tim Giller

They are still out there though. In the far north wolves still roam relatively strong despite our continued bloodlust. You might have also heard of the Yellowstone wolf reintroduction or of wandering Lobos making their way to Oregon and one that traipsed briefly into California, a state that hasn’t seen Canis lupus since 1924. Less well known are the Mexican wolves of the Southwest. A subspecies or cousin, Canis lupus baileyi, is smaller and tends to be more rusty colored. It is also the rarest breed of wolf. They had been wiped out in the US by the 1970s with a handful left in Mexico and just enough in captivity for a breeding program. But they needed a place to go where we could hope they wouldn’t face animosity and slaughter.

Our ambivalence toward the wild reflects on the landscape as well. We maintain an American ethos of wide-open spaces and rugged individualists who test themselves against the elements. In reality those individualists today sit in boardrooms plotting fracking wells, suburban sprawl or board feet of lumber.

Out of similar excesses on public land in the 19th century came the movement that created the National Park System, what has been called “America’s best idea”. I’d say it was a great one, however maybe an improvement was the Wilderness System. The National Parks have the often conflicting mandate to preserve the landscape for future generations while also making it accessible to people (generally meaning pavement, cars, snack bars, etc.). Designated wilderness maintain that the land be left to it’s own natural devices and that people are welcome to visit, but without mechanized forms of travel. These relatively simple ideas represent a shift in how we view the natural world. Rather than only a place from which we extract, nature has its own intrinsic value. These ideas can apply a sort of preciousness to nature, as if it were something external from ourselves that we put in a pretty box and go visit when the mood strikes. They are strictly bureaucratic concepts as well. They may just save us from ourselves though.

The world in which humanity has thrived is unique, one that is much different than the worlds that came before us and much different than the world we seem to be creating. Can we count on the earth to support us if we drastically degrade its natural systems? Do we deserve to? Wilderness areas are America’s best opportunities to create refugia. In natural history terms refugia are places where biodiversity has found sanctuary during extreme environmental events such as warm pockets during a massive ice age or the Sky Islands of the Desert Southwest that Rachael wrote about. This concept has been adopted in conservation as an approach to save biodiversity by protecting areas with strong functioning ecosystems and the creatures they harbor. For those who like a good economic metaphor it’s like a savings account where the genetic diversity that keeps all life strong and adaptable can be maintained through what is hopefully a temporary crisis.

Gila Wilderness Trailhead - Photo by Tim GillerGila Wilderness Trailhead - Photo by Tim Giller

Gila Wilderness Trailhead – Photo by Tim Giller

What happened to those wolves though? We had the chance to stay a few nights near the range of a couple of reintroduced wolfpacks. While camped near Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument, we learned that wolves are active and successfully adapting in the backcountry. In 1924, the same year California eliminated it’s last wolf, Aldo Leopold a visionary conservationist, while working as a Forest Service supervisor, helped develop the first designated wilderness in this area. These wildlands where we had the foresight to allow nature to thrive unmolested can now cradle these beautiful animals. We can hope that at some time in the future when we better recognize the value of sharing space with wild things these animals will be here to show us what that means.

Wolves and Wilderness

It’s as if we resent those things that are truly wild. As if, having slowly tamed ourselves, we recognize subconsciously that something is missing and we harbor animosity towards those raw and wild things that remind us of what we’ve given up. That could be one way to look at how shabbily we’ve treated some of the things we share this place with. The black bear who steals your picnic basket is only following a biological imperative to acquire easy calories. It is our behavior that is aberrant when we go to its home and expect it have our table manners.

No creature better embodies our ambivalence than the wolf. At some point, perhaps when we were more wild than civilized, wolves and humans chose to cohabitate and thus we now have man’s best friend. Do we feel jilted by those that stuck to the woods and did not approach our prehistoric campfires? Our fairy tales and mythologies show the wolf as blood thirsty and sinister and we spent the better part of American history eradicating them from our surroundings while giving their docile brethren a spot on the couch.

 

Display at Nature Center near Gila Wilderness - Photo by Tim Giller

Display at Nature Center near Gila Wilderness – Photo by Tim Giller

They are still out there though. In the far north wolves still roam relatively strong despite our continued bloodlust. You might have also heard of the Yellowstone wolf reintroduction or of wandering Lobos making their way to Oregon and one that traipsed briefly into California, a state that hasn’t seen Canis lupus since 1924. Less well known are the Mexican wolves of the Southwest. A subspecies or cousin, Canis lupus baileyi, is smaller and tends to be more rusty colored. It is also the rarest breed of wolf. They had been wiped out in the US by the 1970s with a handful left in Mexico and just enough in captivity for a breeding program. But they needed a place to go where we could hope they wouldn’t face animosity and slaughter.

Our ambivalence toward the wild reflects on the landscape as well. We maintain an American ethos of wide-open spaces and rugged individualists who test themselves against the elements. In reality those individualists today sit in boardrooms plotting fracking wells, suburban sprawl or board feet of lumber.

Out of similar excesses on public land in the 19th century came the movement that created the National Park System, what has been called “America’s best idea”. I’d say it was a great one, however maybe an improvement was the Wilderness System. The National Parks have the often conflicting mandate to preserve the landscape for future generations while also making it accessible to people (generally meaning pavement, cars, snack bars, etc.). Designated wilderness maintain that the land be left to it’s own natural devices and that people are welcome to visit, but without mechanized forms of travel. These relatively simple ideas represent a shift in how we view the natural world. Rather than only a place from which we extract, nature has its own intrinsic value. These ideas can apply a sort of preciousness to nature, as if it were something external from ourselves that we put in a pretty box and go visit when the mood strikes. They are strictly bureaucratic concepts as well. They may just save us from ourselves though.

The world in which humanity has thrived is unique, one that is much different than the worlds that came before us and much different than the world we seem to be creating. Can we count on the earth to support us if we drastically degrade its natural systems? Do we deserve to? Wilderness areas are America’s best opportunities to create refugia. In natural history terms refugia are places where biodiversity has found sanctuary during extreme environmental events such as warm pockets during a massive ice age or the Sky Islands of the Desert Southwest that Rachael wrote about. This concept has been adopted in conservation as an approach to save biodiversity by protecting areas with strong functioning ecosystems and the creatures they harbor. For those who like a good economic metaphor it’s like a savings account where the genetic diversity that keeps all life strong and adaptable can be maintained through what is hopefully a temporary crisis.

Gila Wilderness Trailhead - Photo by Tim Giller

Gila Wilderness Trailhead – Photo by Tim Giller

What happened to those wolves though? We had the chance to stay a few nights near the range of a couple of reintroduced wolfpacks. While camped near Gila Cliff Dwellings National Monument, we learned that wolves are active and successfully adapting in the backcountry. In 1924, the same year California eliminated it’s last wolf, Aldo Leopold a visionary conservationist, while working as a Forest Service supervisor, helped develop the first designated wilderness in this area. These wildlands where we had the foresight to allow nature to thrive unmolested can now cradle these beautiful animals. We can hope that at some time in the future when we better recognize the value of sharing space with wild things these animals will be here to show us what that means.

Sky Islands

Last year was a mad dash of effort. Time flew by and many things we imagined doing slipped off the list as time slipped out of our hands. It’s as if the accordion bellows of life were at full compression. It’s just a couple of weeks into 2015 and I already feel the accordion expanding out out out. These two weeks of driving around Southern Arizona seem like a month. It’s beautiful down here in ways I did not think to expect. It didn’t take long for me to guess correctly that this area was still part of the basin and range province. Wide valleys are dotted and even corralled by the tell-tell north/south trending mountain ranges. Down here they call these mountains “Sky Islands”. Much like an island the flora and fauna are cut off from the surrounding mountain ranges. While they might have similar climates and life forms many of these plants, birds and animals have no way of connecting with each other because the valleys are too wide and too warm. Others take advantage of the riparian streams and washes, using them like a kind of bird and animal highway. These streams allow for food and protective cover they just can’t get in the high desert valleys that provide not much more than grasses, yucca and cactus.
This wasn’t always the case. Roughly 8,000-4,000 years ago the climate used to be much cooler and wetter down in, what is now, the desert southwest. These valleys were once verdant meadows surrounded by pines and firs. As the climate warmed the plants and animals moved up to cooler elevations that matched their life needs. Trees and plants that have higher water needs tend to only grow on north facing slopes. Further back in time these mountains used to be neighbors. During a period where the west coast experienced subduction the land rippled together. There was volcanic activity and uplift. After the subduction was complete many years of water and wind weathering shaped the mountains to what we see now. The land, much like those accordion bellows, began to spread away from each other. You can actually read a pretty good synopsis on wikipedia about this here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basin_and_Range_Province

Alligator JuniperAlligator Juniper

Alligator Juniper

After several nights of enjoying the valleys and canyons of the area we made our way up to explore one of these sky islands, Chiricahua National Monument in eastern Arizona. We got to our campsite at 12:30, made a quick lunch and hit the trail. I’m not sure I meant to sign up for an eight mile hike but, it was worth it either way. Even at camp we are already away from the valley shrubs and grasses and into some real trees. There is juniper, oaks and for the first time in a long while I got to smell some pine. Seeing all these made me feel at home. It’s hard not to compare to my beloved California. As we walked and looked up at the rhyolite formations that the Chiricahua Apache called “standing up rocks” I said how I felt like I was at the crossroads of Yosemite and Bryce. After that I tried to really see the place for it’s own merit. Looking a little closer at some of the juniper trees I noticed their unique bark that gives them their name of alligator juniper since the bark looks much like the skin of an alligator. I also saw the yucca, agave and prickly pear mixed in with the manzanitas and sycamores. What Tim thought was a pinon jay was actually a gray breasted or “Mexican” jay. We’ve yet to see the javalina or elusive coatimundi, we’re not likely to see those in California outside of a zoo (we finally saw a javalina the next day!). The beautiful doe we saw when we started on the trail was an Arizona white-tailed deer and not ubiquitous black-tailed deer. I kept making a point to think this way, even as things felt and smelled familiar. As we crept up higher and started our way on the switchbacks that lead to the Heart of Rocks loop I stopped in my tracks. Even though I’d not only seen pictures but, had also been looking at them over the course of our walk I was struck by just how incredible these rock formations were up close. There is no question of why this is a special place worth protecting (and why the Apache fought so hard to keep it). The rocks are a reddish gray with covering of bright neon green lichen. They’ve weathered in such ways one can’t help seeing familiar shapes within the rocks. Like the pretty aptly named duck on a rock. The CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp) did much work here and it’s easy to tell in the way the trail is built and even the naming of the formations. Small signs are posted near formations with names just as they were in the 1930’s. Thankfully it appears that some of the less than PC names are no longer posted.

As we move into New Mexico I hope to explore more into the strange yet familiar world of mountains that surround deserts. This time with fresh eyes ready to see what is unique and special. And leaving southern Arizona I have a new appreciation for the area I knew so little of. I suppose that’s the whole point of this effort.

ChiricahuaChiricahua

Chiricahua

Sky Islands

Last year was a mad dash of effort. Time flew by and many things we imagined doing slipped off the list as time slipped out of our hands. It’s as if the accordion bellows of life were at full compression. It’s just a couple of weeks into 2015 and I already feel the accordion expanding out out out. These two weeks of driving around Southern Arizona seem like a month. It’s beautiful down here in ways I did not think to expect. It didn’t take long for me to guess correctly that this area was still part of the basin and range province. Wide valleys are dotted and even corralled by the tell-tell north/south trending mountain ranges. Down here they call these mountains “Sky Islands”. Much like an island the flora and fauna are cut off from the surrounding mountain ranges. While they might have similar climates and life forms many of these plants, birds and animals have no way of connecting with each other because the valleys are too wide and too warm. Others take advantage of the riparian streams and washes, using them like a kind of bird and animal highway. These streams allow for food and protective cover they just can’t get in the high desert valleys that provide not much more than grasses, yucca and cactus.

This wasn’t always the case. Roughly 8,000-4,000 years ago the climate used to be much cooler and wetter down in, what is now, the desert southwest. These valleys were once verdant meadows surrounded by pines and firs. As the climate warmed the plants and animals moved up to cooler elevations that matched their life needs. Trees and plants that have higher water needs tend to only grow on north facing slopes. Further back in time these mountains used to be neighbors. During a period where the west coast experienced subduction the land rippled together. There was volcanic activity and uplift. After the subduction was complete many years of water and wind weathering shaped the mountains to what we see now. The land, much like those accordion bellows, began to spread away from each other. You can actually read a pretty good synopsis on wikipedia about this here: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Basin_and_Range_Province

Alligator JuniperAfter several nights of enjoying the valleys and canyons of the area we made our way up to explore one of these sky islands, Chiricahua National Monument in eastern Arizona. We got to our campsite at 12:30, made a quick lunch and hit the trail. I’m not sure I meant to sign up for an eight mile hike but, it was worth it either way. Even at camp we are already away from the valley shrubs and grasses and into some real trees. There is juniper, oaks and for the first time in a long while I got to smell some pine. Seeing all these made me feel at home. It’s hard not to compare to my beloved California. As we walked and looked up at the rhyolite formations that the Chiricahua Apache called “standing up rocks” I said how I felt like I was at the crossroads of Yosemite and Bryce. After that I tried to really see the place for it’s own merit. Looking a little closer at some of the juniper trees I noticed their unique bark that gives them their name of alligator juniper since the bark looks much like the skin of an alligator. I also saw the yucca, agave and prickly pear mixed in with the manzanitas and sycamores. What Tim thought was a pinon jay was actually a gray breasted or “Mexican” jay. We’ve yet to see the javalina or elusive coatimundi, we’re not likely to see those in California outside of a zoo (we finally saw a javalina the next day!). The beautiful doe we saw when we started on the trail was an Arizona white-tailed deer and not ubiquitous black-tailed deer. I kept making a point to think this way, even as things felt and smelled familiar. As we crept up higher and started our way on the switchbacks that lead to the Heart of Rocks loop I stopped in my tracks. Even though I’d not only seen pictures but, had also been looking at them over the course of our walk I was struck by just how incredible these rock formations were up close. There is no question of why this is a special place worth protecting (and why the Apache fought so hard to keep it). The rocks are a reddish gray with covering of bright neon green lichen. They’ve weathered in such ways one can’t help seeing familiar shapes within the rocks. Like the pretty aptly named duck on a rock. The CCC (Civilian Conservation Corp) did much work here and it’s easy to tell in the way the trail is built and even the naming of the formations. Small signs are posted near formations with names just as they were in the 1930’s. Thankfully it appears that some of the less than PC names are no longer posted.

As we move into New Mexico I hope to explore more into the strange yet familiar world of mountains that surround deserts. This time with fresh eyes ready to see what is unique and special. And leaving southern Arizona I have a new appreciation for the area I knew so little of. I suppose that’s the whole point of this effort.

Chiricahua