TWILIGHT to DARKNESS

“Blackbird fly - into the heart of the dark black night”

– Paul McCartney

“I am always nighttime on the inside

barefoot and heretic”

 – Deborah Landau 

 

 

We are approaching the Winter Solstice when the days grow shorter and twilight happens in a small window that somehow creates a vague need to hurry home before dark.  Twilight is at once scientific and supernatural, both measurable and ethereal.  As a photographer I’ve spent many hours in twilight simply because the light is so juicy and continually changing.

 

Twilight is the illumination of the lower atmosphere when the sun is not directly visible because it is below the horizon.  It’s produced by sunlight scattering in the upper atmosphere and illuminating the lower atmosphere, so the earth’s surface is neither completely lit nor completely dark.

 

You may be surprised to know that according to the National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration there are three kinds of twilight defined by how far the sun is below the horizon:  Civil twilight begins at sunset and ends when the geometric center of the sun is 6 degrees below the horizon. The brightest stars and planets can be seen, while the horizon and terrestrial objects can be discerned.  Nautical twilight ends when the geometric center of the sun is 12 degrees below the horizon.  The term refers to sailors being able to take reliable readings via well-known stars because the horizon is still visible, even under moonless conditions.  In astronomical twilight the sun needs to be more than 18 degrees below the horizon.  Then the sky illumination is so faint that most observers would regard the sky as fully dark, especially under urban or suburban light pollution.  The horizon is not discernible and moderately faint stars or planets can be observed with the naked eye under a non-light polluted sky.  Dusk is the moment at the very end of astronomical twilight, just before the minimum brightness of the night sky sets in or may be thought of as the darkest part of evening twilight.  The collateral adjective for twilight is crepuscular, which is used to describe the behavior of animals that are most active during this period.

 

In the early 1970s Carlos Castenada’s books were widely read by my generation who were very interested in alternate realities and non-rational possibilities.  Tales of Power (1974) was his fourth book written about his apprenticeship and mind-blowing adventures with a Mexican shaman.  In the book is the observation that “The twilight is the crack between the worlds. It is the door to the unknown.”  Now this is not something that can be proven but rather sensed or recognized – another way of seeing perhaps?  Later, Castenada came under fire for his methodology and ethics, but still, there are cracks where things like liquid and light can creep in and around academic rigor.  I’m surprised that I still remember this comment.

There are far more definitions and discussion about the metaphysical implications of twilight than there are scientific interpretations.  The Twilight Zone is a popular metaphor for a “weird” place where two different ways of life or states of existence meet.  That perception is largely based on Rod Serling’s popular television series that ran between 1959-1964.  Writer Paul Keegan has a headier definitionof twilight: “Twilight is the world of what is unsaid or half-said, of shared obliquities between unnamed friends who appear at the edges of vision.”  

 

Pamela Petro is an artist and writer who has been teaching in Wales where she learned that the Iron-Age Celts considered dusk to be the beginning of the day, the moment of greatest potential. “It was what they called a thin time, when seen and unseen worlds overlapped and became porous.”  In a series of photographs about dusk Petro found, “Like ruins, like puzzles, dusk lets us in.  It’s the planet’s original invitation to imagine.”  “Darkness obscures and sunlight reveals, but dusk—that liminal moment in between—murmurs suggestions.”

(https://www.guernicamag.com/shedding-light/

Light pollution can be detrimental to a variety of different organisms.  The lives of plants and animals, especially those which are nocturnal, are affected as their natural environment becomes subjected to unnatural change.  Nocturnal animals can be harmed by light pollution because they are biologically evolved to be dependent on an environment with a certain number of hours of uninterrupted daytime and nighttime.  The over-illumination of the night sky is affecting these organisms, especially birds.  Coyotes group howl and group yip-howl more during the new moon, when it is darkest.  Communication is necessary either to reduce trespassing from other packs, or to assemble packs to hunt larger prey during dark conditions.  Skyglow could increase ambient illumination to eliminate this pattern in affected areas although I have faith that coyotes will adapt as they have done so many times before (Longcore & Rich:2004).

 

Metaphorically speaking twilight describes a period or state of obscurity, ambiguity, or gradual decline.  In the western world it’s often used to describe “the elderly.”  Many of us have lived lively in this gradually fading light for years, knowing full well that we’ll eventually die (but they didn’t say when).  That makes twilight a pretty broad window between day and night.  There’s nothing ominous or impending about it.  Here’s a sweet commentary by Virginia Woolf on the twilight of life: “The compensation of growing old [is] that the passions remain as strong as ever, but one has gained – at last! – the power which adds the supreme flavour to existence, – the power of taking hold of experience, of turning it around, slowly, in the light” (Mrs. Dalloway 1925)”

 

In her keynote address to the 2020 International Dark Sky Association Conference, Annette Lee, Ojibwe and D/Lakota, reminds us that our relationship with the dark sky is not new: “For tens of thousands of years, indigenous people have nurtured critical relationships with the stars, from keen observation and sustainable engineering to place-based ceremony, navigation, and celestial architecture. This legacy of our species – connection to the sky – is in critical danger. Indigenous communities and Indigenous knowledge systems have suffered great loss, but knowledge and knowledge keepers are still among us.” Annette Lee is an astrophysicist, artist, and Director of the Native Skywatchers research and programming initiative. This initiative seeks to remember and revitalize indigenous star and earth knowledge. She has over thirty years of experience in education as a teacher, program administrator, professional visual artist, and researcher. Currently she is an Associate Professor of Astronomy & Physics at St. Cloud State University.

 

Chaw Se' Roundhouse - Miwok Country

Shorter days, of course, means longer nights.  The indigenous Nisenan spent time with extended family and guests when storytelling took on an added importance as accounts, sagas, parables, comedic theater, cautionary tales and shaggy dog stories went on night after night, week after week, etc.  We are, all of us, deeply grooved to respond to shared knowledge, experience and wisdom.  This is when singing, dancing, gaming, training and wooing are undistractedly practiced.

 

Less well known are the practices of traditional Inuit communities, before electric lighting became the norm.  In Make Prayers to the Raven (1983), Richard K. Nelson cites Inuit tribal elders who described how they dealt with the very long nights of winter.  Faced with long wakeful hours in the dark, people crawled into their warm beds and listened to the recounting of stories.  Most of the narratives happened in late fall and the first half of winter because they were taboo after the days began lengthening.  After a story the teller finished by commenting that he or she had shortened the winter: “I thought that winter had just begun, but now I have chewed off part of it.”

 

Junichiro Tanizaki in his book, In Praise of Shadows (1933) argued that excessive illumination is the most atrocious assault on beauty in the West, a pathological tendency to turn something beneficial into something excessive.  Today we’re more lit-up than he could ever have imagined.

 

In these times many urban and sub-urban people have never even tasted the dark.  Instead, we live with indispensable, but nasty, little led lights everywhere indoors. We fear the dark – my new neighbors have added eight bright outside lights should there be a need to perform an emergency appendectomy outside.  Why did they move to a foothill conifer forest where it’s dark by nature?  Sometimes, while I’m luxuriating in the fading caress of twilight someone will walk into the room and abruptly flip on the overhead light switch while saying “it’s getting dark in here”, as if there is only dark and sitcom/gameshow lighting.

 

Hong Kong

As far as I know, the town of Borrego Springs, in the Anza-Borrego desert, is the only International Dark Sky Community in California.  Their goal is to organize the community to legally preserve the night sky through the implementation and enforcement of a quality outdoor lighting ordinance, dark sky education and citizen support of dark skies.  Dark Sky Communities hope their efforts promote responsible lighting and dark sky stewardship and set good examples for surrounding communities.  One look at a nighttime photograph of our hemisphere from space makes it obvious that setting a good example is not enough.

 

The darkest nights are overcast, when even starlight is not available – what poet Deborah Landau calls “immaculate middle-of-the-night quiet.”  I’ve had the pleasure of making my way home from a friend’s place on such a night when it was so dark that I had to navigate the half-mile trail on the basis of its well-worn compaction and the absence of vegetation – a bit scary but also exhilarating.  On other nights I’ve had the gift of cross-country skiing adventures in meadows and on ridges illuminated by starlight.  The light of the full moon on snow is gorgeous and breathtaking – chattering ceases.

 

Nature writer Henry Beston disliked streetlights and other artificial illumination.  In banishing the dark, he said, we’ve lost something essential.  “For eons, the hours of darkness were a time for a different kind of thinking, a different way of being.  Now unlit night is rare and difficult to access.  With lights and ever more lights, we drive the holiness and beauty of night back to the forests and the sea.  … Are modern folk, perhaps, afraid of night? Do they fear that vast serenity, the mystery of infinite space, the austerity of stars? (The Outermost House:1928) 

 

Longer nights can mean more time for preparing food undistracted. Try an afternoon minding dough, so fresh bread can be had at dinner.  Long slow cooking in a crock not only fills the stomach, but the home with the aroma of good care and helps heat the house as well.  Eating foods that have been canned or dried is a serious treat to be savored in this season of long nights.

 

I’m sure that this December you are finding yourself sleeping more (hard-driving ambition be dammed).  Sleeping-in is not a guilty pleasure but a deliberate practice that guards against illness and ill-tempered weather at a time of year when the body (and soul) needs it the most.  In Scandinavia, to cope with the long nights of winter, the Danish practice the hygge which means creating a warm atmosphere and enjoying the good things in life with good people, while in Sweden they have a similar response with their mys.  I had a Norwegian friend who claimed that, for most of the winter nights, her whole family shared a big bed with a down comforter.

 

Research has revealed that people living in urban areas of more than 500,000 people are exposed to night-time light levels that are three to six times brighter than people in small towns and rural areas. Those living in areas of more intense light sleep less, are more tired during the daytime, and report feeling more dissatisfied with their sleep. They also go to bed and wake up later than people in darker areas (Ohayon and Milesi:2016).

 

With the invention of gaslight and electric light, social and commercial life started to move indoors, with very few exceptions.  Still, biologically we remain outdoor creatures in an indoor society.  In fact, by settling indoors, our species has undergone a deliberate and artificial change of micro-climate that significantly exceeds the macro-climate change that is global warming.  We are no longer results of biological evolution alone.

 

Normally, we are not aware of the strong haptic and embodied ingredients in our visual perceptions, but twilight reveals these forgotten sensibilities.  Sight is activated and sharpened in twilight.  The evolutionary process has tuned the human eye for twilight rather than bright daylight.  Normal illumination levels today are so high that the full capacity of vision is suppressed as the pupil automatically closes.  Paradoxically, our culture reveres vision and visibility, but at the same time it weakens the capacity of vision through the use of excessive light (Turrell:2016).

A big hit in 1958

 

Roamin’ in the Gloamin’ is a song written by Sir Harry Lauden, of Scotland, in 1911.  It’s a popular love song written about a man and his sweetheart courting at the end of day:

Roamin' in the gloamin' on the bonnie banks o' Clyde.

Roamin' in the gloamin' wae my lassie by my side.

When the sun has gone to rest,

That's the time we love the best.

O, it's lovely roamin' in the gloamin!

 

Some might say it’s a wee bit corny, but Lauden’s right about it being a lovely time to wander.  It’s the time when you’re most likely to soak up the constant shading of hues and moods that, until this moment, you didn’t know existed.  At the same time all the usual landmarks fade and lose their edges while our aesthetic zones gulp down the evanescent deliciousness remaining.  It’s surprising to see how little light is required to find your way.  Vineet Raj Kapoor, author, lyricist, poet and game designer, reminds us that, “Darkness doesn’t mean the path doesn’t exist.”

 

The gloaming is a word recognized by many people, but few have actually experienced it (especially when you eliminate the skyglow created by cities, stadiums and lighted roads).  That the word is Scotch should come as no surprise because Scotland uses hundreds of words for what we might consider bad weather.  Gloaming describes evening, twilight and dusk but there’s something about the word that sounds gloomy – not so much negatively but more melancholic.  It’s first recorded in in the “Original Chronicle of Scotland” in the fifteenth-century texts with a reference to ‘the glomyng of the nycht’ found.  Other Scotch words for outside conditions include “smirr” for a fine rain or drizzle, “drookit” to mean extremely wet or absolutely drenched, “oorlich” to describe situations damp, chilly and utterly unpleasant.  “Stoating” is when it rains so heavily that the drops of rain bounce off the ground. (The Scotsman. 19th April 2016).  It’s raining heavily as I write this and, after months of no rain, it’s delightful.

 

You may wonder what Scottish words have to do with my habitat, the Yuba River in the Sierra Nevada of California.  Well, in 1850 Scotsman, Major William Downie led a party of Black men, a Kanaka and an Irish boy to a gold mining location just downstream from Goodyears Bar on the North Yuba River.  This location was known as Rantedottler Bar, for which there are seven spellings but no known etymology.  It’s not hard to imagine one of those Scotch words for troublesome weather being used here in 1850.  Only a few weeks ago there was a drop of 50° overnight at Goodyears Bar.  If, in the 1850s, you mined on this 20-mile stretch of the river winter weather was a serious concern in all languages spoken because the conifer coated canyon is narrow and the walls are steep, therefore there are only a few hours of direct sunlight available.  What that means is that winter had an extra bit of bite for gold miners who worked in, and with, water every day they possibly could.  

• • •

 

Some additional references:

 

Downie, William. Hunting for Gold. American West Publishing Company. 1971.

Lee, Annette. 2020. https://annettelee.com

Longcore, Travis & Catherine Rich. Ecological Light Pollution. 2004. www.frontiersinecology.org

Ohayon, Maurice M. & Cristina Milesi. Artificial Outdoor Nighttime Lights Associate with Altered Sleep Behavior in the American General Population. Sleep, Volume 39, Issue 6, June 2016. https://doi.org/10.5665/sleep.5860

Petro, Pamela. Shedding Light. Guernica. November 2, 2020. https://www.guernicamag.com/shedding-light/

15 Words Which Can Only be Used to Describe Scottish Weather. The Scotsman – Edinburgh. 19th April 2016.

https://www.scotsman.com/whats-on/arts-and-entertainment/15-words-which-can-only-be-used-describe-scottish-weather-1478371

Turrell, James. The Thingness of Light. Daylight & Architecture. Autumn 2016, Issue 26. Autumn 2016

 

 

SHEEP THRILLS: HISTORY ON TREE TRUNKS

 

 

Before the contemporary surge in scientifically designed synthetics for “outdoor wear,” wool was revered for its durability, warmth and ability to perform even while wet. A wool garment or blanket could be heavy and bulky, but it was dependable. I’ve had my share of wool sweaters and Woolrich Shirts that have become as close as pets and as reliable as friends.

 

California’s indigenous population did not weave textiles but instead developed basket weaving, creating some of the most aesthetic and functional baskets on earth. The tradition continues into the present (see California Basket Weavers Association, https://ciba.org). When the Spanish arrived in California they brought sheep and taught natives living at the missions how to spin and weave wool. In 1821 Mexico gained independence from Spain and "Alta California" became a Mexican province rather than a Spanish colony. The Californios traded with the native population who valued the highly desirable wool serapes obtained from highland Mexico and they allowed the fur trade to flourish inland. Notable among the traders was the Hudson’s Bay Company, who traded high quality woven wool blankets for beaver pelts provided by the native population. 

 

The sheep industry in California developed in two distinct periods before 1906. The first, 1848–1860, involved driving animals from New Mexico and southern California to mining camps and towns in the western foothills for consumption. After 1860, The sheep industry consisted of seasonal grazing of mountain pastures by itinerant or “gypsy” sheep bands. Before the creation of National Forests (The Tahoe Reserve 1906) there was no limit to the size or the number of bands that entered the Sierra nor was there a limit on the length of time they could stay in a specific area. Undoubtedly, the number of sheep using all available meadow systems in the Sierra Nevada during this time would be in the millions. Some scholars attribute the reduction of some native perennials and their replacement by more aggressive annual species in upper-elevation grassy hillsides and higher-elevation meadow systems to this unregulated sheep grazing.

 

Michigan Bluff, no date, photographer unknown

Sheep grazing in the Sierra Nevada in the late nineteenth-century was condemned by contemporary critics and considered more far more destructive than cattle grazing. They had two major complaints about the sheep industry: first, too many animals were grazing for too long on Sierra Nevada pastures, and second, sheepherders were starting fires to improve future range or to remove barriers to sheep movement. The First Biennial Report of the California State Board of Forestry for the Years 1885–1886, reflecting this anti-sheep view, recommended that all sheep be excluded from the Sierra Nevada because of the damage they caused to soils and vegetation. Among the critics was John Muir who famously called sheep “hoofed locusts,” and said that they were more effective than fires or glaciers in destroying vegetation.

 

The views of those opposed to sheep industry practices eventually shaped future federal forest management policies. At the time no one involved in grazing had any understanding of previous native burning traditions. From the lumberman’s point of view sheepmen added to naturally caused fires in a significant way. The California State Board of Forestry wanted to exclude all fires so as to improve timber production and watershed potential of Sierra Nevada forests for agricultural uses. Most of the Sierra Nevada was affected by grazing especially in the foothill, middle-elevation forests, and subalpine areas 

 

The first Basques to migrate to the western hemisphere went to Argentina and Chile but later traveled to California to join the gold rush. Most were not successful miners, so they turned their attention to agriculture, especially cattle, then later sheep grazing. The Basque who came from the Pyrenees, the mountain range that straddles the boundary between France and Spain, may have tended a few sheep before, but certainly none had worked as open-range sheepherders before they immigrated to the United States. Basque immigrants took on this work because, although it was hard (and boring), it paid relatively well, and it didn’t involve specialized skills or require a command of English.

Freeman Meadows – North Yuba

 

Typically, a recently arrived Basque sheepherder worked for another already established Basque business and was paid annually. Many chose to have their pay in head of sheep rather than money, in order to begin their own herds.

 

The largest immigration of Basques with intentions to work in the sheep industry occurred between 1900-1930 when the demand for lamb and wool was high, and so was the profit margin. Initially ranchers could graze their sheep free of charge on massive tracts of public lands and sheepherding in the United States became synonymous with itinerant grazing by moving herds constantly to new pastures in new regions.  In the late 1890s and during the first decade of the 20th century vast forested districts of the American West were either declared National Parks, in which livestock grazing was prohibited, or National Forests, in which livestock grazing permits were issued to American citizens according to how much ranch land they held in private ownership. The Basque were typically not owners of large tracts of land, putting them at a disadvantage in discussions of land use.

 

Independence Lake – Truckee River

Prior to 1910 herders usually set-up camps in the center of their range and herded sheep back to the camp every night. This resulted in denuded bedding grounds, trampled into dust. The Forest Service attempted to lessen the damage by restricting the number of days sheep could be bedded in one spot; at first six and later three. They also introduced “open herding”, which minimized driving and instead, allowed sheep to spread-out and graze. This resulted in smaller flocks, which was the outcome the Forest Service preferred.

 

World War I (1914-1918) increased the number of livestock permitted to graze on public land because meat and wool was in demand. The war, and the increased livestock production associated with it, was disastrous to public lands in the west. In the North-Central Sierra Nevada there was tremendous damage to the sub-alpine meadows on the east side of the summit. In 1928 the Tahoe National Forest released their Management Plan and in it, Forest Supervisor Richard Bigelow, revealed a planned policy to eliminate as many sheep as possible and replace them with “locally owned cattle.” 

 

Pole Creek – Truckee River (1978)

Resentment against these “transients” led to the occasional roughing up of sheepherders or the killing of their dogs. Most local U.S. Forest Service officials defended the idea of keeping many Basque herders out of the national forests in favor of cattlemen who had stronger ties to the local business communities. Forest rangers, in reports to their supervisors continually recommended the exclusion of sheep in the national forests and typically portrayed Basques as “furtive” and selfish destroyers of the environment.

 

These public policy changes further concentrated the transient bands onto the public range outside the reserves, some of which was still suitable as marginal summer range. In the unprotected districts, the problems that the reserve system was designed to address were exacerbated. It took nearly three decades, or until 1934 with passage of the Taylor Grazing Act, that the remaining unforested parts of the public lands were brought under effective federal control. The era of the nomadic Basque sheep band was coming to an end.

 

Gold Lake Highway – North Yuba

Basque historian, Gloria Totoricagüena Egurrola found that as the economy in Basque Country improved, fewer Basques wanted or needed to emigrate for economic reasons and the Western Range Association began to recruit sheepherders in Peru (1971) and in Mexico (1973). During the 1960s, sheepherders were paid an average of $200 per month for inexperienced males, and $300 per month for experienced workers. During the 1970s the closing of Basque immigration related to sheepherding resulted from three major factors: competitive salaries in the Basque Country itself, cheaper labor from South America, and an overall decrease in the demand for sheepherders in the United States. In 1966, there were approximately 1,200 Basque sheepherders working in the United States, and by 1976 there were only 106 Basques with sheepherding contracts. Basques dominated the sheep industry in the United States for almost exactly one hundred years beginning with the establishment of the Altube brothers' Spanish Ranch in Nevada in 1873.

 

WHAT’S AN ARBOGLYPH? AND WHO MADE THEM?

Basque sheepherders created a unique western cultural phenomenon. They carved on aspen trees, tens of thousands of them in ten western states. These carvings give us information we could not find elsewhere. If you want to know when and where sheep grazed or who the sheepherders were, chances are only arborglyphs can provide answers. 

 

Gold Lake Highway – North Yuba River

In their solitude the Basque shepherds, who were predominantly young men, developed a means of expression by carving in aspen bark. Nothing like this existed in their homeland. Most carvings are names and dates; often the messages are hard to understand as most are in the Basque language, Euskara or in Spanish and they’re sometimes misspelled. Other topics include political commentary, humor, poetry, symbols from Basque mythology, animals, love and loneliness. Not surprisingly there are also erotic fantasies depicted.  Some of the drawings are crude, some are abstract, and still others are very sophisticated. These carvings provide documentation of Basque presence and some insight into the people who created them. 

 

While working for the Tahoe National Forest in the early 1990s I was fortunate enough to meet Joxie Mallea-Olaetxe, then part of the Basque studies program at the University of Nevada, Reno. He was beginning his systematic study of arboglyphs that spanned ten western States. I showed him the arboglyphs that we had recorded on the western slope of the Sierra Nevada, northwest of Lake Tahoe. These sites were mostly in the aspen stands in mountain valleys near Gold Lake and Haskell Peak and a few others near the headwaters of the Middle Yuba. It was a great learning experience, and to this day, I have yet to meet a PhD with a more rollicking sense of humor, while suffering no loss of academic rigor.

 

Howard Creek – North Yuba River

In the last few decades, in a scramble to record the arbooglyphs, a series of events where the public can participate in recording these sites on federal lands under archaeological supervision, became quite popular. There have also been a few books published and articles have appeared in a wide assortment of periodicals. Their very remoteness is what preserves their integrity. Mallea-Olaetxe, in a Basque newsletter, observed that “The fact that sheepherder history is becoming almost mainstream is an amazing development. Just think of the decades through which the Basques lived in America like ghosts”. As for technique most sheepherders used a pocket-knife or nail, “most herders soon learned that the best arborglyphs are produced with a single thin incision,” Mallea-Olaetxe wrote. “Over time, the tree bandages the wound with a dark scar, creating a high-contrast image that, if executed properly, remains legible for decades”. 

 

Perhaps the arboglyphs were inspired by nearby prehistoric petroglyphs which have endured for thousands of years? Because aspen typically live between eighty and one hundred years the oldest Basque arborglyphs have already been lost. Finding and documenting those that remain, before they disappear, has always been a race against the clock. Now climate change is adversely affecting aspens and running the clock out even faster. With them goes a distinctive part of the landscape that clearly reflects aspects of an American subculture. It’s strikingly ephemeral – just a ripple in the lake of history. Their genesis and demise occurred in a discrete window of about 150 years. It makes me wonder how many times cultural expression has appeared then disappeared in the past. Our present culture’s mania for documentation is itself a cultural expression.

Gold Lake Highway – North Yuba River

• • •

 

Additional Reading

Mallea-Olaetxe, Joxe. “A Basque Historian's Dilemma” (Buber’s Basque Page, www.beber.net)

Mallea-Olaetxe, Joxe. “Speaking Through the Aspens: Basque Tree Carvings in California and Nevada” University of Nevada Press, Reno. 2000.    

Totoricagüena Egurrola,Gloria. “Ethnic Industries for Migrants: Basque Sheepherding in the American West”. Center for Basque Studies. University of Nevada, Reno

https://foresthistory.org/wp-content/uploads/2016/12/mallea_carving-out-history-basque-aspens.pdf

 

DEHYDRATION

 

 In 1978 I was working for the Tahoe National Forest when, if you were fit enough to do fieldwork and could pass the “step test,” you were issued a “red card” and were expected to work on wildland fires as needed.  There was some minimal training as well because, depending on your job, it could be dangerous and demanding work.  One night, after a few days of creating fuel breaks with hand tools, I couldn’t sleep because of severe muscle cramping.  I was suffering from electrolyte imbalance, which I was careless about until it hit me, hard.  Back then we consumed salt tablets to retain water with little discussion about its physiology or the dangers of dehydration.

 

Salt tablets were used by laborers in the hot industrial environments of North America beginning in the late 1800s; they were also provided to soldiers by a number of national armies during World War II to assist combatants in dealing with dehydration in hot jungle and desert environments.  Dan Banyard, who retired from a Cleveland steel mill after nearly 40 years, told a reporter from the Cleveland Plain Dealer: "Your clothes, they would be just streaked with the salt from perspiration –just big white streaks."  He said that mill workers routinely consumed up to 10 salt tablets a day while drinking lots of water.  Nowadays salt tablets are rarely used because a massive amount of water needs to be taken in when you use them.

 

Today some of my friends are passionate about hydration and are seldom seen without a water bottle, even the most sedentary ones.  One of them, on her departure, invariably trills, “stay hydrated.”  This is a relatively recent concern for the average person, but firefighters, laborers and athletes have always been concerned about having enough fluids.

 

Electrolytes is not the name of a ska band but are the ionized or ionizable constituents of a living cell, blood, or other organic matter.  Even a small depletion of electrolytes, caused by sweating, vomiting or diarrhea, can negatively affect performance and a greater loss can lead to severe and painful muscle cramping, and even death.  It’s easy to shine on drinking enough fluids (not alcohol or caffeine because they’re diuretics) but I can’t emphasize enough the need to be hydrated.  I mentioned the early episode I had with dehydration and since that time I’ve had two others.  Apparently, I’m a slow learner because after two vigorous hikes on two consecutive sweltering days I recently had my last bout of muscle cramping.  It was very painful, and I intend to never experience it again.  Understand that this is a serious consideration if you’re hiking, so plan ahead.

 

Two electrolytes, sodium and chloride, are the key ingredients in table salt and in salt tablets. These tablets were used for many years to treat heat cramps and restore electrolytes lost through sweating.  Salt tablets aren’t recommended as much as they used to be, given that today readily available sports drinks are packed with additional electrolytes, including potassium, magnesium, and phosphate.  However, people with high blood pressure or kidney disease should avoid them. Anyone who eats a balanced diet and doesn’t engage in intense, endurance sports probably already ingests enough sodium to avoid heat cramps and other heat-related problems.

 

Most dieticians recommend an electrolyte-heavy low-sugar sports drink.  Sugar, salts, and water help your body absorb fluids, but a lot of sports drinks have way too much sugar and not enough electrolytes to really help your body replenish the electrolytes it needs.  Shop around for various electrolyte additives.  If you are active and sweating a lot, you’re foolish not to hydrate well before, during and after strenuous exercise.  Wildland firefighters are advised to drink a minimum of one quart of fluid for each hour of work.  Military studies have shown that the frequency of heat illness is related to the temperature of the previous day.  High temperatures on one day should be viewed as a warning flag for the following day.

 

Electrolytes are essential minerals (like sodium, calcium, and potassium) that are vital to many key functions in the body.  They regulate muscle contractions and keep you hydrated.  Electrolytes also help balance your pH levels (the measure of acidity and alkalinity) and they control nervous-system function.  Heat cramps are involuntary muscle contractions caused by failure to replace fluids or electrolytes.  Cramps can be relieved by replacing fluids and electrolytes.

 

As you age electrolyte balance becomes more of an issue and can cause greater damage to vital organs.  Again, don’t be glib – this can be serious and life-threatening.  Also, be advised that winter sports and activities can also cause electrolyte imbalance.  Stay hydrated.

 

• • •

 

THE TUNNEL #6 FIRE ON THE NORTH YUBA

The Sierra Buttes Lookout in 1945

Photo Courtesy of the U. S. Forest Service

On September 23, 1954 a disastrous fire started on the southern slope of the Sierra Buttes, located in Sierra County, in the Sierra Nevada mountain range.  Today there is a Forest Service fire lookout maintained on the nearby summit at 8,587 feet.  This sunny slope was seasonally used by the Washoe, the Mountain Maidu, the Nisenan and those unnamed groups who preceded them, for thousands of years.  In addition to bountiful hunting and fishing this area was renowned, into the historic period, for its wild plums.

In 1850 gold was discovered in the region and soon became the sole focus of Euro-American miners.  The gold was underground and required elaborate and often expensive machinery to mine.  But after about 1865 there was no shortage of investors who made mining much more profitable, at least for the investors.  For the average miners and their families there was steady year-round work.

Artist, M.L. Strangroom (18??)

Courtesy of the Bancroft Library

Just upslope to the north and above the town of Sierra City were several mines, the most notable being the Sierra Buttes Mine which, in its 80 years of existence, produced $17 to $20 million in gold.  From 1870 to 1905 it was owned by English investors who paid the over 200 miners who worked there $2.50 to $3 a day.  By the time the mine closed there were very few standing trees in this area – the vegetation that remained was primarily brush.

 

Map by James Sinnott (1978)

Sierra City and the Sierra Buttes Mine (1900)

Courtesy of the Plumas County Museum 

A Stereo Photo of the Employees of the Sierra Buttes Mine (date unknown)

Photographer M. M. Hazeltine

Fire is part of the ecology of the Sierra Nevada.  To date, our experiment with fighting or “stamping out” fire has not worked very well.  We still want to have our way with nature, yet we seem oblivious to the reality of being locked in her embrace.  We’re going to have to learn to live with fire.  What follows is the story of the Tunnel #6 Fire as told to me in 2012 by Todd White, a wildland firefighter for the Tahoe National Forest:

The Tunnel #6 Fire as told by Todd White

“If you stand on top of the Sierra Buttes and look to the south and you look downhill at the bottom you’ll see a river canyon and that’s the river canyon where the North Fork of the Yuba River flows, and upslope of that is the old gold rush town of Sierra City.  This hillside is big and open and drops more than 4,000 feet to the river canyon below.  It’s broken by drainages that run downslope, and covered primarily in mountain chapparal like greenleaf manzanita, silk tassel and huckleberry oak brush.  Mid-slope on that hill, more than 50 years ago, a group of men took to salvaging some scrap iron from a penstock of an old gold mine.  Their cutting torches threw some sparks which started a fire, and that fire became known as the Tunnel #6 Fire.

When the Forest Service got wind of this, they dispatched fire fighters.  At around 4 o’clock that afternoon a group of firefighters hiked up and started building a fire line.  Most of these firefighters were inmates. They were inmates from Folsom State Prison that were supervised by the Forest Service superintendent and a couple of three foremen.  In summers they lived in canvas-walled tents at the old Eureka Honor Camp #24, which was not far away from Eureka Diggings.  Daily they’d work on timber stand improvement and other reforestation projects and occasionally they’d fight some fire.  

Well, so they’re swinging brush hooks, Pulaskis, McLeods and shovels and not really getting anywhere – they weren’t really making very good progress. The wind would blow and throw spot fires and they’d have to back up and start again.  About 8 o’clock that night they decided to bag it and retreat back to the road and get a bite to eat and rest up and come up with a new plan.

Well by then, there were more firefighters and there was an old cable dozer that belonged to a logging company. They decided to put a fire line on a ridgetop that was about a mile to the west of where the fire had gotten established in Independence Ravine. This ridgetop would connect a couple of roads that contoured above and below the fire and if they could build it and burn it out in time, they could successfully box the fire in.  So around midnight the dozer’s pushing downhill, the men from the honor camp and a schoolteacher from Downieville filled in behind improving the fireline and getting it ready to burn out.  Now all evening the cool night air was doing what it does, which is flow downhill and downcanyon and kinda keep the fire parked down below – it really wasn’t moving uphill.

But sometime around 2:30 in the morning the wind switched and started coming out of the east. It was a dry wind and it started blowing pretty strong and it started to push the fire’s edge toward the dozer line and these firefighters. Well, the order came to abandon the fire line and get everybody downhill and load them into the trucks and relocate them out to the west and the north up at a place called Mule Camp, which would be out of the way of the fire if it kept blowing west unchecked.  Well, all but four of them made it to the bottom of the handline and those four they got cutoff by a finger of fire that blew across the dozer line and cut them off and got established in a windy ravine and forced them to retreat uphill. But one of them made it uphill to the Shaughnessy Wood Haul Road and got up there, but the other three didn’t. They were found later that afternoon, not more than 150 feet from the road that would have got them out of there.  That fire eventually burned 2,500 acres and a few structures. Later that week a headline in the San Francisco Examiner read, “Three Felons Die Fighting Fire in Sierra City.”

Well, there’s no cross on a hill that marks where Frank Burr, Mel Grodzik and Richard Fierro fell in 1954 and luckily there hasn’t been a firefighter burned over on the Tahoe (National Forest) since.  But those hard-fought lessons in the Tunnel #6 Fire helped shape what became known as the Ten Standard Firefighting Orders that, to this day, are taught, learned and memorized by firefighters everywhere.  About the only thing that remains on the hill now is a small number of rusted hand tools buried underneath the mountain chaparral on that south aspect of Sierra Buttes.”

The FlumeCreek Drainage on the Southeast Slope of The Sierra Buttes

Despite the brevity of Todd’s story his narrative reveals some of the skills typical of the men and women who fight wildland fires.  He is alert to the topography, vegetation, wind direction, the location of his colleagues, possible escape routes and more.  We’re fortunate to have such wide-awake, disciplined and courageous people around.  We appreciate the firefighters and respect their skills!

Eight years ago, I assisted artist Kris Timkin with an audio project by recording Todd White.  For me the project was a rewarding experiment in acoustic geography, and I recommend checking it out: http://absencepresenceaudio.com   On the website you can hear Todd White tell the story about the Tunnel #6 Fire.  You’ll notice that storytelling has more vibrancy and nuance than the written word.  It’s the way we’ve taught, learned, entertained and bonded for who knows how many years.

• • •

DON'T VISIT THE SOUTH YUBA RIVER THIS SUMMER, IT'S TOO CROWDED

“I would feel more optimistic about a bright future for man if he spent less time proving that he can outwit Nature and more time tasting her sweetness and respecting her seniority.” – E.B. White

 

“Tourism is about curiosity, which killed the cat.” – Lucy Lippard

  

While change is inevitable, the pace of change driven by hordes of tourists is affecting the character of our community and threatening the health of the Yuba River foothills.  Every summer thousands of visitors, hell-bent on a day at the river, descend on the South Yuba, a sacred stream that is struggling to cope with the increase in soil compaction, erosion, diminished water quality, degraded wildlife habitat, trash, diapers, broken glass bottles, increased traffic with unconscious drivers, graffiti on boulders, more creepy voyeurs and piles of shit from both dogs and humans.  This year has attracted the biggest crowds since the gold rush.  The biggest threat is from catastrophic fire!  No sane person would deliberately start a fire, but accidents happen, and with this volume of unaware visitors, it is a real possibility.

 

Most visitors don’t know (and some don’t care) anything about the Yuba ecosystem, they’re here for a carefree day of swimming and sunning.  But for those of us who live here the Yuba River basin is an inspirational landmark and it’s the heart of our community. Did you know that ecology comes from the Greek word for house or home?

 

I want to reemphasize that we, the people of the Yuba River watershed, are in an alarming situation.  It is only early August and people, unfamiliar with this place, are swarming the Yuba River, especially the South Yuba, in record numbers.  As a result, there are immediate dangers in the very real threat of wildfire and the inability of the Yuba canyon to cope with the volume of visitors.

It's sobering to be driving home and see smoke in that direction

How did this happen?  Prior to the 1970s lumbering, or logging, was the basis of the local economy but it was slowing down, in part, by a series of new laws that mandated concern for the environment and input from what loggers called “specialists.”  Reports written by wildlife biologists, botanists, archaeologists, hydrologists and ecologists added costs and made logging less profitable, but it made for healthier forests.  I became a specialist myself when, in 1975, I was hired as an archaeologist by the Tahoe National Forest.

 

The economic hub of the region is the Nevada City–Grass Valley area where, in the 1950s & 60s, small sawmills were ubiquitous from Bear River to the North Yuba and its tributaries.  Eventually there was less employment in the traditional triad of mining, logging and ranching.  It took Nevada City residents, David Osborne and Charles Wood, partners with a background in architecture and art, to point out the abundance of historical structures here and how that could appeal to tourists.  To make a long story short Nevada City was listed on the National Register of Historic Places in 1985 and the Nevada County Chamber of Commerce began to sell the historical authenticity of the region.  

View from a clearcut on Buck Mountain with Malakoff Diggings in the background.

        The Yuba River watershed has a history of largely unregulated extractive industry.

In the 21^st century more aggressive marketing from both business entities and environmentally conscious non-profits, along with a constant barrage of praise, bragging and photos on social media have essentially changed an experience with nature to a crowded rendezvous of strangers, most of whom have no ties to this community.

 

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but we had to learn the hard way that there is no such thing as “sustainable tourism,” it’s an oxymoron along the lines of “friendly takeover,” “open secret,” “civil war” or “military intelligence.”  Now local citizens are forced to travel to other, more remote areas, for a quality day outdoors, making them tourists themselves.  Meanwhile people who’ve lived here for decades, and their children, are being priced out of the area.  This is merely kicking the can down the trail.  It’s a conflict between a residual gold rush mentality and those for whom nature, culture and quality of life matter most.  If you live in a beautiful, enlightened or quaint area long enough you will probably see its commodification, homogenization and demise?  It’s the way of things, the Tao of capitalism.  Yet, does it have to be this way – so vulgar, pathetic and unconscious.

A collection of lighters casually collected in a year's time. For future archaeologists this will be seen as an emblematic artifact from this era.

Recently I’ve been meeting tourists who romantically term themselves “global citizens” and who see becoming part of a place as provincial and inhibiting.  They’re generally self-centered and fluid and include ecstatic dancers, traveling weed trimers and spiritual seekers who arrive in greater numbers after Burning Man to plunder local food banks and camp on the river (with campfires, of course).  Right now, the Yuba River is at its population carrying capacity and it’s no one’s fault or insidious scheme, but under these conditions the environment is degrading, and it won’t be the place we used to know much longer.

 

Nevada City, CA

Previous generations worked hard on maintaining historical authenticity and it did draw people to the region for several decades.  In this century Nevada City and Grass Valley became more event oriented and have cultivated still another group of tourists.  Fewer people today come here for the historic ambience – a Disney-like façade is sufficient.  In time we will probably lose our remarkable downtowns to versions of Virginia City, Nevada, complete with staged authenticity.  It happens incrementally, and it’s well underway.

Washington, CA. Advice from the locals

Part of the problem is that our cities and their Chambers of Commerce are way too accommodating to tourists causing places to lose their authenticity to the whims of carpetbaggers who are only here until the money’s gone.  I'm not saying make it difficult for tourists.  You can still be a friendly, welcoming place while still basically forcing people to adapt to YOUR city, with its own culture, concerns and values.  Eventually mass tourism will attract corporate interests who will turn your beloved neighborhood into a theme park.

 

Airbnb and the illusion of “living like a local” are condescending concepts.  Locals don’t want residential neighborhoods commercialized and populated by strangers on vacation.  And what visitor wants to work for the wages that locals earn?  Let’s face it, all tourists are intrusive at one level or another.  Does it matter to tourists that most locals will tolerate them only as long as they’re spending?  When concerns about tourism come from locals, is it not wise to listen?  

 

I’ve been in the Nevada City area for over 50 years and I’ve watched shops selling auto parts, gas, used building materials, hardware, clothing, baked goods, groceries, a pharmacy, a newspaper office and more, close.  New businesses that cater to tourists have replaced them.  At the moment you can’t find a wing nut in Nevada City, or groceries for that matter, because the entire economy is based on tourism.  Despite this desperate solution, Donald Snow, author of Selling Out the Last Best Place (1994) observed that opposing tourism in the West, if only theoretically, has become “like being against ranching, or Christianity.”  

 

Nevada City, CA.

The design on the T-shirt is a remix of local architecture  

When tourism becomes the only option for economic survival, our labor force could become a population of service workers, some dressed up to look like our ancestors as we rewrite the past to serve the present, although I doubt that will happen here.  Yet expectations of tourists mold the behavior of locals because they have the economic power to do so.  Tourist towns are often stripped of their innate character only to be repackaged in a sanitized, marketable format.  Surprisingly, some (many) people are at home in a swamp of clichés.  Residents of tourist towns (locals) sometimes feel displaced and need their own refuges, which are also endangered because, they too, are potential tourist spots. 

 

The South Yuba River Citizen's League, or SYRCL, was founded in 1983 through a rural, grassroots campaign to defend the South Yuba River from proposed hydropower dams.  In 1999 SYRCL was instrumental in gaining Wild and Scenic Status for 39 miles of the South Yuba River.  Today SYRCL is the leading voice for the protection and restoration of the Yuba River watershed and has developed into a vibrant community organization with over 3,500 members and volunteers.

 

Over the past 20 years SYRCL has organized volunteers for an annual watershed cleanup.  In 2019 they removed more than 15 tons of trash and recycling from the Yuba and Bear watersheds with the help of 928 dedicated volunteers.  Among the trash items were 5,674 cigarette butts and 45 lighters, each capable of igniting a fire.  This is a good indicator of how reckless and unaware visitors (and no doubt, some locals) can be.  We are grateful for this effort and the work of SYRCL’s River Ambassadors to educate visitors about environmental degradation, but if you look at the trash/artifacts gathered objectively it is clear that much more education is necessary to stem the unconscious and dangerous behavior of more than a few.  It’s time to get serious about “your happy place.”  Might I add, it’s getting worse as we dawdle.

South Yuba River

Like it?

Be responsible 

How can we get a grip on this?  Here are some ideas from local resident, Gary Snyder’s 1969 poem, Smokey the Bear Sutra.

 . . .

And he will protect those who love woods and rivers,

Gods and animals, hobos and madmen, prisoners and sick

people, musicians, playful women, and hopeful children;

 

And if anyone is threatened by advertising, air pollution,

or the police, they should chant SMOKEY THE BEAR'S WAR SPELL:

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

DROWN THEIR BUTTS

CRUSH THEIR BUTTS

 

I’m all for it, and may these final lines inspire you:

 

. . .

Now those who recite this Sutra and then try to put it in practice

will accumulate merit as countless as the sands

of Arizona and Nevada,

Will help save the planet Earth from total oil slick,

Will enter the age of harmony of man and nature,

Will win the tender love and caresses of men, women, and beasts

Will always have ripe blackberries to eat and a sunny spot

under a pine to sit at,

AND IN THE END WILL WIN HIGHEST PERFECT ENLIGHTENMENT.

 

thus have we heard.

 

You may see this poem as charming and unrealistic but lo, we already have sensible laws and ordinances regarding fire pits, trash dumps, water pollution, firearms, human waste, etc.  What we need is enforcement – the time for warnings is past.  Right now, there are many nighttime and morning campfires in the Grouse Ridge Roadless Area and in many other locations despite rules against it.  This must stop – fine them – and let it be known on social media that we, the citizens of the Yuba River watershed, will not tolerate environmental abuse and dangerous behavior.  Actions have consequences!

Lower Sardine Lake/ North Yuba

The South Yuba River Citizens League, the California Department of Parks and Recreation, the U. S Forest Service (Tahoe & Plumas National Forests), the Bureau of Land Management, the California Department of Fish and Wildlife, the Army Corps of Engineers, CalFire and ordinary citizens must be more forceful and remind people that they WILL be ticketed, fined or jailed for anti-social behavior and environmental damage.  This will take cooperation between land managers, non-profits and the public, and it will take assertiveness, but it can and must be done before we have catastrophic fire, degraded water quality or communicable disease.

 

I can’t end on a negative note.  Maybe, in the long run, it’s a good sign that so many Californians are enjoying the outdoors – they may come to love it enough to give nature some respect.  While we’re an assertive and competitive species, we have a deep capacity for compassion and many are still moved by beauty.

• • •

p.s.

Coney Island by Weegee, 1940

Social distancing is driving me nuts. I miss potlucks, live music, crazed dancing, hugging friends and kid's birthday parties but I know that if we behave responsibly we'll eventually get back to socializing with vigor.

Some References

Lippard, Lucy R. The Lure of the Local: Senses of Place in a Multicentered Society. New York: New Press. 1998

Lippard, Lucy R. Undermining: A Wild Ride Through Land Use, Politics, and Art in the Changing West. New Press. 2014

Snow, Donald. Selling Out the Last Best Place. From “Discovered Country: Tourism and Survival in the American West.” Eds: Scott Norris & John T. Nichols (1994)

Matson, Paul. Who Were Osborne and Woods?

https://www.theunion.com/opinion/paul-matson-who-were-osbornwoods/

Snyder, Gary. Smokey Bear Sutra. (1969)

https://www.inquiringmind.com/article/2201_27_snyder_smokey-bear-sutra/