Geoengineering Cultures and Confirmation Bias

We can start with more than a decade of very public statements and events that finally inspired this story. My first big wakeup call came around 2011, while wandering into one of those Occupy Wall Street encampments at City Hall; I noticed a giant “Chemtrails=Geoengineering=Crimes Against Humanity” banner draped across the plaza. When I extended my hand and politely quizzed the protagonist about his sign, he asked me why I was bothering to explain the science for him and then he walked away in frustration. While radio-channel surfing several years ago, I chanced upon a DJ on a famously progressive-leaning all-news station asking for donations during a pledge drive. She was ranting about how chemtrails were so prevalent one day and absent on others, proving that some sort of secret government program was responsible for spraying our skies with poisonous chemicals that were changing our weather and how their investigative reporters were getting to the bottom of it all. Then there was the popular local TV news anchor who went on a special assignment interviewing people who believed that their health problems only flared up when those mysterious chemtrails appeared overhead above 25,000 feet. That perspective earned a series of prime-time TV stories shamelessly designed to boost network ratings.

More recently, on May 15, 2025, I stumbled upon a popular right-leaning radio talk show interview with the documentary-maker, chemtrail promoter, and champion of climate conspiracy theories, Matt Landman. He trumpeted to millions of listeners how recent devasting fires in Hawaii and California (and other tragic disasters) were caused by geoengineering. He also claimed that rainmaking had been “perfected”, and all that government and other “powers that be” had to do is flip a switch and make it rain on top of those fires and put them out. I was finally pushed into doing this story when a friend of mine, who is educated about these matters, wrote, “I know several people including some smart friends who 100% believe jet trails are a nefarious something that is being done by the “government”. They say if the jet trails were just vapor, they would disappear right away and they don’t.”

Regardless of your politics (geoengineering believers are commonly found on the far right and far left of the political spectrum) … Mission Control, we have a big information problem that needs our attention. Objective scientific explanations and analyses of climate intervention makes a lot of people uncomfortable; presenting solid evidence that unveils mysteries and may challenge true believers can foster resentment. Scientists and educators are sometimes intimidated until they become uneasy about truth-telling in such a hyped-up confirmation bias cancel culture. So, we must jump into this pop-culture controversy with our continuing commitment to just keep to the facts.

Jet Trails or Contrails or Chemtrails?

People have noticed and photographed jet trails (or contrails) in the sky for a century, ever since the beginning of jet aviation. In my book, The California Sky Watcher, I wrote about the science behind contrails in the section about clouds. Here is an excerpt with some editing for this story:

When you see jet trails—or condensation trails (contrails)—forming, they are announcing that the upper altitudes, where jets are flying, are near their dew points. You might notice them during any season, but once they form, they are likely to drift faster with higher-velocity winds as nature’s winter jet streams sweep farther south. Jets emit particulates and moisture from their exhaust into air at around 30,000 feet (9,140 m) altitude. Way up there, where it may be colder than –50°F (–46°C), vapor will almost immediately freeze around the jet exhaust to form ice-crystal cirrus-cloud streaks. When jet trails are thicker and last longer, there are often cirrus clouds forming near them in the saturated air at these high altitudes. When drier upper layers are not near their dew points, the jet trails will quickly sublimate (turn from ice directly into vapor) and disappear into the clear air. Jet trails may also quickly form by a process called aerodynamic condensation, which occurs as air is forced over the wings, causing adiabatic expansion and cooling of the moist air to its dew point. If you want to learn the detailed physics behind that specific process, here’s an article.

Technologies (see below) allow us to track particular airline flights that might be making trails; just follow their flight patterns. Research has shown that these slender clouds can combine to block and reflect enough shortwave sunlight back to space to suppress afternoon surface temperatures downward by a degree or more. When conditions are favorable, look for the linear shadows they can cast through hazy skies. But they also absorb longwave radiation from Earth’s surface at night, only to reradiate it back toward the surface, keeping overnight low temperatures just a bit warmer. The net result might be slight global warming in our atmosphere. At these high altitudes, the suspended jet exhaust pollution will likely be carried hundreds or thousands of miles in strong upper-level winds until it gets diluted and dispersed into global circulation patterns.

You might recognize how foolish it would be to attempt to poison a particular place or population with a chemtrail above 25,000 feet that is likely to drift a continent or ocean away as it is mixing and dispersing in the upper atmosphere. And then there are the thousands of scientists, engineers, pilots, and all the support staff and other workers who would be keeping these secrets from all of us. And don’t take my word or it. Check out the following explanations from the experts who dedicate their careers to researching this stuff.

Chem trails debunked: Royal Aeronautical Society

American Meteorological Society, 2017 Research Paper on Contrails

You can also use several apps (Flightradar24 , FlightAware , Plane Finder) that allow you to track flights in real-time and see exactly what planes are flying overhead. Flightradar24 even offers an augmented reality (AR) feature to identify planes by pointing your device at the sky. 

Some who have finally cast aside their claims of secret government flight chemtrails still argue that someone is purposely placing chemicals, designed to poison us and/or change the climate, into jet fuels. But fuels must be carefully formulated to keep flights safe and efficient and the dangerous chemicals often mentioned aren’t even found in jet fuels. Nevertheless, public officials, including our current US Health and Human Services Secretary, have fueled these rumors with reckless rhetoric and empty promises.

Some political leaders (from at least 8 states) are even trying to pass legislation to stop something that doesn’t exist. Here is an article that traces the roots of several decades of geoengineering history and some myths that have often been championed by those on the far left and then far right of the political spectrum, which is now morphing into legislation of the bizarre.

Weather Radar

Another rumor gone viral (and promoted by some who must know better) is how weather radar stations are designed to change our weather. But radar technologies have been widely used in law enforcement and air traffic control and our atmosphere has always been bombarded with radio waves from the universe, not to mention more than a century of humans’ radio and TV waves. Equipment within “those round domes” you might see uses Doppler radar (microwaves on the electromagnetic spectrum) to detect the speed and direction of moving objects. They use the Doppler effect, tracking the change in frequency of their propagated and then reflected radio waves, to measure the direction and speed of objects in the sky. Those spherical “radomes” are just shells designed to shield the sensitive equipment inside and minimize interference with radar signals.

These radar technologies have greatly improved forecasters’ ability to immediately monitor precipitation and storms as they form and move and they can even detect powerful winds and circulations in the clouds before they become dangerous funnel clouds or deadly tornadoes. You can thank such technologies for saving thousands of lives each year and making your plane flights safer. Yet, in the spirit of you can’t make this stuff up, some clueless (or worse) public officials have proposed banning them! Here’s another plea to not take my word for it and do your own research. How radar works

Weather radar stations in the US, including both NEXRAD (Next-Generation Radar) and TDWR (Terminal Doppler Weather Radar), are operated by different federal agencies. The National Weather Service (NWS), an agency within NOAA (National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration), operates and maintains NEXRAD stations. The Federal Aviation Administration (FAA) maintains and operates TDWR stations. Additionally, the US Air Force also plays a role in the NEXRAD system.

You may also have heard the sordid stories about HAARP, especially from talk radio programs and other media looking to boost their ratings. This acronym for the scientific research facility in Alaska stands for High-frequency Active Auroral Research Program, where they have been using a high-frequency transmitter to study the ionosphere, that charged-up rarified top or our atmosphere that affects radio wave propagation and extends from more than 30 miles high on out into space. Unfortunately, HAARP research scientists have been accused of manipulating weather and even engaging in mind control, which should make us wonder who’s trying to control whom.

Cloud Seeding

Here’s where humans have been experimenting with weather modification for years, but with mixed results at best. So that we don’t try to reinvent the wheel, I will use another edited excerpt from my California Sky Watcher book to summarize cloud seeding in California:

“Cloud seeding is one of the most studied and debated forms of weather modification. It exploits natural processes to enhance precipitation from thick clouds that are potential precipitation producers. Such cloud-seeding experiments date back more than seventy years, with some “success.” Remember that most of the substantial rain you have experienced in California started high in the clouds as ice and snow that eventually melted before reaching the ground. In some clouds with favorable dynamics, adding just the right number of minute particles (either launched from the ground or from planes) that can act as freezing nuclei (such as silver iodide) seems to slightly enhance precipitation totals. This happens as the freezing nuclei grow layers of ice by attracting very cold water in clouds that then freezes on to the nuclei surfaces. (This is also known as the Bergeron process.) The ice crystals grow large enough to fall through the clouds, attracting more moisture along the way and producing heavier precipitation than might have been expected. (Similar methods have been used to clear thick, cold fog banks.) This process does not work in warm clouds that may drop lighter rain and drizzle.

Rain- and snowmaking is a tricky business given that even when seeding is considered successful, a lot of uncertainty and risk management remains. We have much more to learn about weather modification, which explains why the American Meteorological Society encourages only the most well-designed experimentation and research and recommends caution when people are fooling around with these natural processes. In spite of these uncertainties, as of 2025, several California agencies continued experimenting with cloud-seeding efforts, especially to enhance Sierra Nevada snowpacks. (An increasing number of studies have suggested snowfall enhancement success of up to 3–10 percent in the mountains.) Water and utility districts such as in Sacramento and the East Bay, PG&E, the Santa Ana Watershed Project Authority, and Santa Barbara and San Luis Obispo Counties continue their experimental programs, hoping for the best.

We have come a long way since Charles Hatfield roamed our drought-stricken state in the early 1900s, advancing what some believed to be his magical rainmaking skills. When he was finally hired to break the 1915 drought in San Diego, by chance a historic nearly 30 inches (76 cm) of rain fell in less than a month, causing devastating and deadly flooding. Hatfield’s shenanigans even inspired a classic 1950s Western movie, The Rainmaker. Our weather knowledge then was barely a drop in the bucket compared to what we know today, as better-informed scientists and would-be rainmakers continue with their weather modification debates and efforts. Such struggles with nature make me suspect that the Native Americans before us better understood some of California’s weather and water cycles.”

The historic July 4, 2025 flash flood tragedy along the Guadalupe River in Texas (see our adjacent website story) brought cloud seeding into the headlines again when it was learned how a California-based company called “Rainmaker” had been working in Texas. But the company had only seeded two small clouds in distant south-central Texas two days before the flood, and the puffy potential rainmakers evaporated within a couple of hours. Rainmaker wisely suspended operations two days before the Texas floods as moist air masses moved toward the region and forecast models warned of big storms in the days ahead. Still, clueless social media posts pointed fingers in attempts to displace the blame.

You will find a wealth of links to research on cloud seeding at the end of this story (below).

Become Part of the Solution by Spreading the Knowledge

It is our responsibility to combat confirmation bias by moving forward with transparency and integrity. Please share these back-to-reality facts with your friends who have been misled by some skeptics who are well-intentioned, some who are true believers and followers, some who take advantage of people’s fears and vulnerabilities, and others who should know better. Show them how old-fashioned critical thinking and use of the scientific method can clear up any confusion they might have about climate intervention/modification, or what they call geoengineering. And if they insist on following these distracting conspiracy theory trails that lead to dead ends, remind them of the old adage I have slightly modified, but applies perfectly here: “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, weird weather we’re having, eh?”

To repeat “Don’t take my word for it.”, here are some relevant links to share:

The Latest AMS Statement on Climate Intervention

NOAA Fact Check on Climate Modification

Weather Modification Project Reports from NOAA

Cloud Seeding Links and Details:

Recent GAO paper on Cloud Seeding

In case you missed that Texas flash flood/cloud seeding article, here’s the link sent from climatologist Bill Patzert.

From 2016: The California Department of Water Resources (DWR) has been regulating and monitoring cloud seeding programs in California, which are used to enhance precipitation, particularly snow and rain. These programs involve the release of substances like silver iodide into clouds to promote ice crystal formation and increase precipitation. The DWR requires sponsors to file notices of intent and comply with environmental regulations.

To track cloud seeding programs in the US, you can consult resources that include the Colorado Virtual Library, NOAA’s Library, and the North American Weather Modification Council. Some other states also have their own programs, such as Colorado’s Weather Modification Program. Additionally, organizations such as the Desert Research Institute conduct research and operate cloud seeding projects.

Just in case you haven’t seen enough contrail images ….

THE END

The post Geoengineering and Climate Intervention: Jet Trails and Radar and Cloud Seeding, Oh My! first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

Made for Flash Floods

Some basic knowledge of the region’s geography and weather patterns helps us answer the first question. Headwaters of the Guadalupe River Basin are perfectly positioned in a region already known as “Flash Flood Ally”, within a sprawling swath across central Texas extending both west and northeast of Austin. The Guadalupe River flows toward the east and curves southeast for nearly 250 miles in a relatively narrow drainage basin from its headwaters, starting in Hill country and the Edwards Plateau west of Kerrville, spreading onto its floodplain, and finally spilling into San Antonio Bay and the Gulf of Mexico. Average annual precipitation in Hill Country is about 30 inches. Average July precipitation is just over 2 inches, sandwiched between May/June and Sep/Oct peaks. (Average annual precipitation in Texas varies from 10 inches near El Paso in the far west to 60 inches around Houston in the far east, which leaves this targeted region midway between the state’s contrasting dry and wet climates.)

The surrounding Edwards Plateau is underlain by limestone rock formations and thin soils with infiltration capacities that can be quickly overwhelmed by occasional high-intensity rainfall events experienced in these parts of Texas. Sheet flow down the hillsides is rapidly concentrated into narrow channel flows at the bottom of the slopes. According to the USGS, “The Guadalupe River Basin is relatively long and narrow, with a length of approximately 237 miles and a maximum width of about 50 miles. The basin has a drainage area of approximately 6,700 square miles (mi²).” The entire basin has been growing in population to over 600,000. But those headwaters in that steeper northwestern part of the basin are most prone to flash flooding.

Texas flash flood events often begin in the Gulf of Mexico, where ocean water temperatures soar above 80°F during summer months. Such warm water evaporates into warm overlying air masses that have a high capacity to hold water vapor. (Dew points as high as 80°F are sometimes recorded along the Texas coast from summer into fall.) Those air masses are not only full of water, but are charged with tremendous amounts of stored latent heat, waiting to be released when the vapor condenses to form clouds. The muggy air columns often swirl inland into Mexico or directly into Texas, sometimes imbedded in tropical disturbances.

That is exactly what happened during the recent flash floods. After Tropical Storm Barry moved over land and dissipated above the Mexican highlands, its moisture teamed up with additional remnant moisture drawn in from the warm East Pacific (from the other side of southern Mexico). The juiced-up air mass drifted north and became concentrated in pockets caught in a weak unstable low-pressure circulation that stalled over central Texas. Summer surface heating and additional forced lifting up the Edwards Plateau in what is known as Hill Country (which rises up over 3,000 feet) provided the extra instability necessary to build towering severe thunderstorms and local torrential cloudbursts.

The National Weather Service forecast this general pattern days ahead of time and even issued flash flood watches for the region, but these were not the kind of steady and widespread precipitation events common to weather fronts or tropical storms. Many regions of Texas (and some near the worst flooding) received little or no rain, leaving those residents to wonder what was the big deal. Every local Texan has experienced this typical convective summer hit-and-miss instability. Forecasters can warn of scattered thunderstorms and severe weather, but forecast models can’t precisely pinpoint which exact hill or neighborhood will receive the drenching until the local event becomes imminent. Still, NWS tools that include increasingly accurate high-resolution models helped to forecast and follow the massive mesoscale convective system that was developing. Rain rates up to 2-4 inches/hour and local storm totals of 6-8 inches were forecast, though one spot would eventually receive up to a foot or more. Alerts were elevated to flash flood warnings hours ahead as storm locations and severities became more apparent. When individual storms further strengthened and threats increased, wording in the screeching flood warnings became more urgent and desperate, heightened to considerable elevated risk, and finally to a flash flood emergency, which is very rare. (Note the summary of these warnings at the end of this story.) But the communication didn’t make it from the NWS to the victims.  

Gravity took over from there, driving cloudbursts on to the sloping surfaces; sheets of water from above landed to become sheet flow headed to the nearest rill or gully. Within minutes, headwater tributary channels that slice through Hill Country served as efficient conduits as they converged to deliver copious streamflow downhill into the Guadalupe River. Depending on the location, river levels are estimated to have increased from a mere trickle to over 25 feet in less than an hour.

Holiday camps were filled with visitors and some locals who were either out of range of the warnings or had temporarily discarded their phones to celebrate their peaceful weekend in nature. The apparent lack of weather radios and absence of sirens exacerbated the dearth of emergency information, leaving oblivious and vulnerable locals and campers in the dark until the floodwaters were surging around them and it was too late; victims didn’t even have time to make the 5- or 10-minute walk up to higher ground that would have saved them. Hundreds were first stranded and then swept away in another definition of the perfect storm. As the hours passed, peak Guadalupe River floodwaters raced downstream, but passing by populations that were receiving the warnings. Scores of upstream victims, who were incorporated into the cascading flood debris, may never be found in the massive downstream deposits. It seems somehow appropriate that, after being caught in reservoirs and behind dams, the Guadalupe’s floodwaters are headed back to the Gulf of Mexico where all this started, perhaps to evaporate again and continue the hydrologic cycle, or even to fuel the next flash flood event.

Learning from Our Mistakes

There is always a lot of finger-pointing following a disaster such as this. For instance, poorly informed individuals have even been misled with misguided stories about cloud seeding. But cloud seeding efforts have been shown to—at best—increase precipitation from preexisting rain clouds by up to 10%, while no additional precipitation is often the result. And the only company (Rainmaker) that was seeding up to a hundred miles away halted its operations two days before the storms hit. As more information pours in (and it is always easier to second-guess as Monday-morning quarterbacks), what at first seemed to be a tragic and unavoidable series of events may have been averted with some simple precautions: by making sure the camps had access and paid attention to emergency warning systems. A few functional weather radios and/or a siren (such as the one installed just downstream) may have saved hundreds of lives. Relocation of the camps slightly uphill from their previous locations and farther from the riverbed will likely be a future remedy. After all, the greatest number of lives lost were in the epicenter of “flash flood alley”, in the heart of the state that averages the greatest number of flash flood victims each year.

While it has earned our attention, this heartbreaking event represents a motivating opportunity to reevaluate where we develop on floodplains and where we live and set up camp to make sure we aren’t the next victims. And if we travel beyond communication range of the outside world, a good map and some simple research ahead of time could determine whether or not we return safely to share our adventures. It is also an opportunity to recall that for every one-degree Fahrenheit increase in temperature, our atmospheric sponge has the capacity to hold 3-4% more water vapor. In a world of increasing temperatures and hydroclimatic whiplash, what goes up must eventually come down, and this helps to explain why severe rain events and their floods are becoming more common: our atmosphere is loading with greater amounts of water and energy that must be distributed. Meanwhile, we are compelled to ask if such a tragedy could happen in California.               

Are Californians the Next Victims?

It is a bit ironic how both Texas and California exhibit landscapes that suffer from long periods of debilitating drought, punctuated by torrential downpours and catastrophic flash floods. Within hours in both states, concerns about over drafting groundwater resources, lowering water tables, and dried-up springs turn to saving victims from dangerous flooding. Our Golden State harbors a wide range of flash flood environments, especially after fires strip off protective vegetation. All 58 counties have experienced some sort of severe flooding. Look for steep slopes and a lack of vegetation in places that receive sporadic precipitation and you are in flash flood country. Add loose materials weathered on those slopes, and you are in mud and debris flow country. You will find them scattered across the southwest states and you will hear about the latest unsuspecting victims that were swept to their deaths. I have experienced my share of these violent events and I wrote about a few of them in my California Sky Watcher book. I even started my academic career by studying their impacts on landscapes around the White Mountains along the California/Nevada border. But the conditions that lead to our flash flood events are usually quite different from Texas.

During our southwest summer “monsoon”, we only occasionally get incursions of warm, moist air masses from Mexico. Our summer moisture usually sneaks in from the Sonoran Desert or the Gulf of California rather than directly from the Gulf of Mexico, mainly impacting our inland mountains and deserts. Check out our website story from my storm chasing a few years ago. During late summer, rare tropical disturbances (check this video) might even drift up into California (such as Hilary in August, 2023) as they die out. But our “monsoon” airmasses hardly ever arrive as charged up as those Gulf of Mexico surges into Texas. So, our summer thunderstorms are usually more isolated and less severe, producing very little summer rain on the average, even in our desert and mountain areas.

These towering storms are more like afternoon and evening oddities that must build and maintain themselves above smaller specific watersheds in order to power localized flash floods and debris flows. But their rarity is also what makes them dangerous, when they unexpectedly pop up and generate violent flows that can briefly submerge canyons and cough out material on to alluvial fans before spreading into adjacent valleys. Partly cloudy with a chance of scattered afternoon thunderstorms, and a high of 105 or more, can suddenly turn into a violent two-inch cloudburst and deadly flash flood within an hour.

The aprons of alluvial fans that stretch out from the base of our inland mountains, particularly across Southern California and into the Basin and Range, are made of successive mud and debris flows, recalling thousands of years of rare but violent floods that charged out of individual drainage basins long before our developments and infrastructures covered them. On average, these summer events become wetter and more frequent as we travel east into Arizona and New Mexico. Much of the desert southwest east of the Colorado River experiences peak annual rainfall during the summer months. That is why rangers and other officials close some trails in places such as the Zion Canyon Narrows when hit-and-miss storms erupt into the forecast.

California’s greatest floods are usually associated with our winter storms’ atmospheric rivers. In contrast to the Texas summer downpours, these larger systems that sweep off the Pacific are forecast long before they come ashore so that we can prepare for them, they bring widespread rain and snow, and they may hang around for days. But the danger and damage can easily exceed many billions of dollars as flooding ravages multiple drainage basins, tests our dams and other flood control infrastructures, and spreads across hundreds of square miles of floodplains after spilling out of surrounding mountains.

California’s most powerful series of atmospheric rivers and resulting megaflood (December 1861 – February 1862) not only lasted for more than a month, but inundated many of our lowlands, including the Central Valley and Los Angeles Basin into Orange County. This event is used as an example for what researchers call the ARkStorm (Atmospheric River 1,000), which is likely to return to do more damage than “The Big One”, the massive earthquake that is overdue along the San Andreas Fault Zone. As examples, floodplains along the Yuba, Russian, and Pajaro Rivers, most rivers pouring out of the Coast Ranges and Sierra Nevada, and most of the Central Valley and Southern California coastal plains are all at risk. Intense downpours that become imbedded in atmospheric rivers and move over burn scars have also powered scores of local mud and debris flows, such as in Montecito in 2018, which killed 23 people. So, we can certainly learn from the Texas tragedies, but we are certainly not Texas (interpret as you wish).

What we share with Texas are the increasing amounts of moisture and energy in our atmosphere, warning us how such extreme events are becoming more likely each year. Instead of building developments in harm’s way, we can prepare by leaving spreading basins open at the base of our mountain ranges to catch runoff and allow the pooled water to gradually soak into our aquifers. We can also build more debris basins at strategic locations along water courses to catch debris flows before they invade our settlements and destroy infrastructures. We also share serious concerns about how recent budget cuts and layoffs at NOAA and the National Weather Service will lead to the unnecessary loss of life and property in the future. Let’s all hope that we will be smart enough to prepare for the coming extreme weather events so we won’t have to write future stories about similar tragedies in California.

Continue below to find some additional sources and a timeline of the Texas flood warnings.

Relevant links:

Guadalupe River Basin Poster

NY Times Texas Flood Sequence

Guadalupe River Rainwater Harvesting

From InFRM: Interagency Flood Risk Management/USGS

Daniel Swain Video at Weather West

Some California Links:
Note how the first two videos look hauntingly similar to the Guadalupe, Texas flash flood. 

The Whitewater River flooded after Tropical Storm Hilary (August, 2023) dropped torrential rains on the San Bernardino Mountains.

Here’s dramatic video showing what resulted when a relatively warm atmospheric river dumped heavy rain on low-elevation Sierra Nevada snowpacks (March 10, 2023), all part of a series of deluges that eventually broke California’s twenty-plus-years megadrought.

A Story about the Megaflood of 1862 and preparing for another.

Burned Watershed Geohazards from the California Department of Conservation.

Central Valley Flood Protection Plan

National Weather Service Budget Cut Impacts

Late July Update: Summer monsoon thunderstorms continued to generate flash flooding across New Mexico into late July, 2025. The mountain village of Ruidoso was repeatedly flooded when heavy cloudbursts poured over upstream burn scars. Here are just two examples of videos floating around out there.     

Here is a summary (from media sources) of some emergency warnings from the National Weather Service leading up to and during the Guadalupe River flash flood event:

Thursday, July 3

The National Weather Service had issued several flood watches for counties in central Texas on Thursday, July 3, warning of the possibility of rain and flash flooding through Friday, but these were not emergency alerts.

11:41 p.m., Bandera County — NWS sends a warning about potentially “life threatening” flash flooding of creeks and streams for residents of central Bandera County, the neighboring county to the south of Kerr County and Camp Mystic. The message includes some standard NWS flash flooding language: “Turn around, don’t drown when encountering flooded roads. Most flood deaths occur in vehicles. Be especially cautious at night when it is harder to recognize the dangers of flooding. In hilly terrain there are hundreds of low water crossings which are potentially dangerous in heavy rain. Do not attempt to cross flooded roads. Find an alternate route.” 

Friday, July 4

1:14 a.m., Bandera and Kerr Counties — This message, the first one for Kerr County, included some of the same standard NWS flash flooding language as the warning sent to Bandera about an hour and a half before.

1:53 a.m., Bandera County — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier first warning to Bandera County (but not Kerr).

3:35 a.m., Bandera and Kerr Counties — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to the two counties, but in the warning language it adds: “It is important to know where you are relative to streams, rivers, or creeks which can become killers in heavy rains. Campers and hikers should avoid streams or creeks.” 

4:03 a.m., Bandera and Kerr Counties — This NWS message, covering the area that includes Camp Mystic, repeats much of the earlier message but is the first to add this more urgent wording: “This is a PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS SITUATION. SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!” and “Move to higher ground now! This is an extremely dangerous and life-threatening situation. Do not attempt to travel unless you are fleeing an area subject to flooding or under an evacuation order.”

4:03 a.m. — The National Weather Service in Austin/San Antonio issues a Flash Flood Emergency, stating: “At 403 AM CDT, Doppler radar and automated rain gauges indicated thunderstorms producing heavy rain. Numerous low water crossings as well as the Guadalupe River at Hunt are flooding. Between 4 and 10 inches of rain have fallen. The expected rainfall rate is 2 to 4 inches in 1 hour. Additional rainfall amounts of 2 to 4 inches are possible in the warned area. Flash flooding is already occurring.”

5:34 a.m., Kerr County — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to Kerr County, which includes Camp Mystic. “This is a FLASH FLOOD EMERGENCY for the Guadalupe River from Hunt through Kerrvile and Center Point. This is a PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS SITUATION. SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!” and “Move to higher ground now! This is an extremely dangerous and life-threatening situation.”

6:06 a.m., Bandera and Kerr Counties — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to both counties. It reads in part: “Local law enforcement reported numerous low water crossings flooded and major flooding occurring along the Guadalupe River with rescues taking place. Between 5 and 10 inches of rain have fallen. Additional rainfall amounts up to 2 inches are possible in the warned area. Flash flooding is already occurring. This is a FLASH FLOOD EMERGENCY for South-central Kerr County, including Hunt. This is a PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS SITUATION. SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!” 

6:27 a.m., Kerr County — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to Kerr County, saying “This is a FLASH FLOOD EMERGENCY” and “SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!”

The Guadalupe River reached its peak level of about 36 feet at around 7 a.m. Friday, July 4.

7:24 a.m., Kerr and Kendall Counties — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to Kerr County and neighboring Kendall County, to the east. It reads in part: “A large and deadly flood wave is moving down the Guadalupe River. Flash flooding is already occurring. This is a FLASH FLOOD EMERGENCY for THE GUADALUPE RIVER FROM CENTER POINT TO SISTERDALE. This is a PARTICULARLY DANGEROUS SITUATION. SEEK HIGHER GROUND NOW!”

8:47 a.m., Kerr County — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to Kerr County.

9:04 a.m., Bandera and Kerr Counties — NWS sends a repeat of its earlier warning to these two counties.

Several repeat warnings followed, especially for downstream locations, as peak flooding spread southeast out of Hill Country.  

The following additional images (you may recognize some from previous stories on our webpage or in my book) illustrate summer thunderstorm impacts in California’s deserts.

THE END

The post Flash Flood! … From Texas to California first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

By: Svetlana Babaeva

We’re thrilled to once again showcase the impressive work of a GIS student from Santa Monica College! This time, we spotlight the exceptional talents of Svetlana Babaeva, whose dedication and analytical skill shine through in her latest project. Svetlana has taken on one of the most urgent and complex issues facing Californians today: the dramatic and ongoing rise in rent across Los Angeles County. With a sharp geographic lens and a commitment to uncovering meaningful insights, she’s mapped and analyzed this crisis with clarity and purpose. In her own words …

Los Angeles, often seen as a land of opportunity and the embodiment of the “California Dream,” drew me in 2019 with its vibrant cultural energy. However, I soon encountered the city’s harsh reality: a crushing housing crisis that personally affected me and nearly a third of my neighbors who spend over half their income on rent.

Understanding the Housing Crisis Through GIS

After five years of observing this crisis and studying geography at Santa Monica College, I realized my personal struggle was part of a larger issue impacting over 60% of Los Angeles County residents. This led me to create Rent Pressure in Los Angeles, a story map using Geographic Information Systems (GIS) to pinpoint areas most affected by severe rent burdens. My spatial analysis highlighted central and downtown Los Angeles County as particularly vulnerable, prompting questions about the sustainability of living here. This project has significantly deepened my understanding of how geographic thinking and GIS can illuminate and address critical real-world issues beyond just housing. These patterns clearly warrant continued investigation within this area of study.

Acknowledgements

I am incredibly grateful to the Santa Monica College Geography Program for their exceptional guidance. Special thanks to Professor Jing Liu, whose five GIS courses and unwavering support were instrumental in developing this project and my forthcoming Geospatial Technology certificate. I also extend my sincere appreciation to Professor Robert O’Keefe for introducing me to critical geographic thinking, Professor Pete Morris for his insightful, multidisciplinary approach to California geography, and Professor William A. Selby for his inspiring presentations. Their combined contributions have provided an invaluable foundation and continue to inspire my geographic explorations.

Showcase Your Geographic Work on Rediscovering the Golden State: California Geography

Are you passionate about California’s landscapes, communities, or pressing challenges? Have you created maps, visualizations, research projects, or multimedia presentations that explore the geography of the Golden State? If so, we invite you to contribute to Rediscovering the Golden State: California Geography — an online platform dedicated to telling California’s story through a geographic lens.

We’re looking for student and faculty contributions that connect clearly to California — whether you’re examining climate change impacts, housing and rent patterns, water resources, wildfire dynamics, transportation systems, cultural diversity, immigration, or any number of issues shaped by place and space. Submissions can be analytical or creative, visual or written, but they must offer geographic insight into the state’s dynamic human or physical landscapes.

By sharing your work, you not only gain professional exposure but also help inform and inspire others to better understand California — its regions, its people, and the challenges it faces.

If you’re interested in being featured, or have a student whose work deserves a wider audience, we’d love to hear from you! Let’s rediscover the Golden State together, one geographic story at a time.

The post Rent Pressure in L.A first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

At Rediscovering the Golden State: California Geography, one of our missions is to feature the impactful work of students who apply geographic thought and analysis to pressing California issues. We’re proud to present Jason Runnels, a dedicated student from Santa Monica College.

Jason has completed a significant project titled Wells, Crops, and Crisis: Exploring the Spatial Relationships Between Groundwater Depletion, Crops and Landcover in Tulare County, CA. This timely and insightful work delves into the critical issue of groundwater depletion in Tulare County, examining its spatial relationships with agricultural practices and land cover.

We encourage you to explore Jason’s work by following the link above. Additionally, please take a moment to read his bio (see below) and learn more about his motivations for addressing this critical issue.

A twenty-five-year resident of California, Jason Runnells, the creator behind this featured project, brings a deeply personal perspective to the state’s pressing water resource challenges. With roots in a multi-generational Colorado farming family, he possesses a lifelong appreciation for the intricate relationship between land and water in semi-arid environments. This foundational interest has culminated in a focused exploration of Tulare County’s groundwater issues, a critical component of California’s larger sustainability puzzle.

This project leverages the power of Geographic Information Systems (GIS) to investigate the complex spatial interplay between shifting groundwater levels and established land use patterns. The resulting analysis provides valuable insights for the broader conversation surrounding water management and long-term environmental planning in the region.

Jason’s path to geography and GIS is as unique as his perspective. After a successful two-decade career in the music industry, a desire to more deeply understand the natural world led him back to academia. Under the mentorship of Professor Jing Liu at Santa Monica College, a passion for cartography and spatial analysis was ignited. This newfound dedication to geography has led to an internship as the GIS lead for The Canyon Alliance, where he is instrumental in developing geographic databases and tools to support local disaster preparedness efforts.

Upon graduating this spring with an associate degree in Geography, Jason will continue his studies at UCLA, pursuing a major in Geography/Environmental Studies and a minor in Geospatial Information Systems & Technologies. This project stands as a testament to his dedication and a promising glimpse into a future dedicated to applying the power of geography to real-world environmental challenges.

The post Wells, Crops, and Crisis first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

We all require nutritious meals for our survival. So, the people who grow and harvest our food should be near the top of our list of workers who are rewarded for their labor, right? But that has become wishful thinking as profit margins continue to shrink and more family farms are threatened with bankruptcy each year. Agricultural innovations and revolutions continue to spread, leaving their footprints across California’s landscapes; but current trends too often leave small farmers struggling to pay the bills and keep food on their own tables, all while our popular culture celebrates the latest get-rich-quick millionaires and billionaires who may provide no essential goods or services. California has been the number one agricultural state in the nation for at least seven decades. Our state produces more varieties of farm products than any other state (including some crops that are only grown here commercially), totaling more than 50 billion dollars of income each year.

Disturbing questions and contradictory data ring out from the Golden State and spread to farming communities throughout the country. How are these paradoxical trends affecting life on the farms and our ability to provide healthy, affordable food to the people? What is the future of agriculture as small farms struggle to retain young people who might continue family traditions? Here, we will dive into these controversies and on to the farms to find some answers. We start with a small regenerative family farm and we end with the largest winery in the world, both just outside Turlock in the San Joaquin Valley, between Modesto and Merced. Our guide is Alison McNally, Associate Professor of Geography & Environmental Resources at Cal State University Stanislaus, and this trip is sponsored by the California Geographical Society.

This story is not intended to answer all the questions or solve the many perplexing problems encountered in California’s breadbasket. We have addressed some of them in previous stories on this website and in past publications. For instance, you are probably aware of the controversial debates about how, for decades, big ag has grown at the expense of smaller family farms in California and across much of the nation. Though movements such as farm-to-table encourage sustainable harvests from smaller local farms, many larger agribusinesses have also discovered the economic advantages of more sustainable and/or organic farming on much larger scales. I’ll leave it to you to navigate through the rabbit holes of research and mountains of case studies (such as from UC Davis) that weigh the pros and cons and long-term advantages and disadvantages of small- to large-scale farming. Here, we take you to experience both extremes.

We’re plowing right into the fields for some first-hand experiential learning, guided by the people who work on the farms every day. We start with a morning tour and informative customized hayride through Burroughs Family Farms and we end with an afternoon at E & J Gallo Ranch. There are some surprising connections to our previous story on this website since, on a clear day, you can see some Yosemite National Park high country when you look east from some of these farmlands. And remember the Merced River than runs through Yosemite Valley? It continues downhill to become a water source for Gallo Ranch, after upstream waters are released from Lake McClure to meander into the San Joaquin Valley. And like the previous story, I am using my personal field notes fortified with a bit of background research. All images are originals taken by me with no tampering or manipulation.

Burroughs Family Farms started about 130 years ago in the Berkeley Hills. As Berkeley grew, they paid Burroughs to move toward the Sacramento-San Joaquin Delta, where four dairies were established up to the 1970s.  (We are told that Jersey Island, located where the East Bay meets the Delta, was named after their cows.) When the California Department of Water Resources later bought them out, the family conducted a study, which finally landed Burroughs Family Farms just east of Turlock. They became reestablished as a high producing dairy farm, though their dairies have recently shut down within such a punishing market.

This is where we meet Rosie Burroughs. We launch into her world of regenerative practices that emphasize how healthy soils grow better-tasting, more nutritious foods. She immediately repeats a valuable lesson from the movie, Common Ground: “If you take care of the soil, the soil will take care of you.” And from Rosie and the next film she recommends, Symphony of the Soil, we learn that “we don’t grow plants, we grow soil and soil grows plants.” She emphasizes how healthy soils encourage infiltration of rainfall to become giant water-holding sponges that are also more pest-resistant. Such sustainable soil water banks increase productivity while requiring less irrigation, cutting the need for synthetic industrial chemicals that may increase yields in the short term, but poison the land and decrease the quality of yields in the long term.    

The Burroughs nurtured 20,000 acres for the three years necessary to convert it to organic farming and they’ve been designated organic for 20 years. Now, they grow almonds, beef, chicken, walnuts, and various other products on 12,000 acres. But too many of California’s small farmers have been forced to become price takers rather than price setters. Rosie tells the story of how big ag pushed them out of the dairy business by undercutting their prices and dominating the market. Another unexpected challenge appeared in the form of California’s Sustainable Groundwater Management Act (SGMA), enacted in 2014, designed to ensure the sustainable use of groundwater resources across the state. The one-size-fits-all act restricts use of protective ground cover due to perceived high transpiration rates. Rosie argues that their ground cover is actually cutting evaporation and protecting surfaces from erosion in the long run, as they use grazing sheep and other natural trimming techniques that return nutrients into the soil: “One of the ways they protect and enhance the soil, air and water is by growing cover crops. Continuous ground cover with alternative crops suppresses weeds, improves soil structure, sequesters carbon and attracts beneficial insects and native pollinators. For organic crop production, it also provides nitrogen in lieu of chemical fertilizers.”

Though they are busy shipping their fresh farm products around the country, Rosie and family were eager to share their expertise and passion for all-in-the-family sustainable regenerative farming, and we were eager to hear more; but we must move on.   

It’s time to make the short drive south toward Snelling, where we will learn from farmers who work in what seems to be worlds apart from the Burroughs family … until you look a little closer. This Gallo Ranch was purchased by the Gallo family in the 1970s. Alfalfa and apples have been replaced with rows of grapevines. Their three different acreages in this region (Livingston, Merced, and Turlock) are enormous compared to Burroughs Family Farm, as these landscapes and farming economies define volume-scale winemaking. Founded in 1933 by Ernest and Julio Gallo, their family-owned company became the world’s largest winery, recently raking in revenues of more than $5 billion/year with a total net worth more than $12 billion. 

Brent Sams is waiting for us. Brent has been working for Gallo as a viticulture research scientist since 2012. He earned his BA and MA in Geography and his Ph.D. in horticulture and has been researching to understand how fruit chemistry (and quality) changes over time and space. He has used field measurements to test fruit and light exposure, canopy temperature, and soil cores, sensors to measure electric conductivity and elevation mapping, and remote sensing from satellite, unmanned aerial aircraft, and commercial aircraft. It’s a high-tech GPS/GIS environment where updated yields/acre maps illustrate resources put in versus yield coming out. We noted how Gallo employs around 25-30 Ph.D. research scientists on farms scattered around California and beyond. Add paid environmental science internship opportunities. And since Gallo owns only 10-20% of its supply, Sams works with many other farmers who sell to Gallo. In addition to 100 different kinds of wines from around the world, they also sell juice and color concentrates.

We also met Gallo’s “smart” autonomous tractor. This $60,000 investment exemplifies (with an exclamation point) how farming is changing fast in California. Turn it on, put it into gear, and the rest is done remotely, sometimes throughout the night. It becomes obvious that, with fewer farmers and more scientists and automation, this is NOT your grandparents’ family farm.

Like Burroughs Family Farms, Gallo uses drip irrigation, but this ranch is also well situated with riparian rights and prior appropriation water from the nearby Merced River. They also plant and occasionally cut nitrogen-fixing ground cover, but they don’t rely on groundwater sources here. Water reigns king as each vine requires between 10-20 gallons/week, and even more during heatwaves. Pumps are only capable of pushing water through about ¼-mile of drip lines at a time. 

The calendar is also king on these farms. Pruning season peaks during cold and damp January and February and the harvest season runs through August, September, and October, but that has been changing throughout California. Brent provides evidence of the impacts of climate change. Harvest seasons have been getting earlier as grapes ripen faster in higher temperatures. Varieties that require cold nights and big swings in diurnal temperatures have been moving north. Recent extended extreme heat waves are also impacting harvests. So, you might appreciate how the orientation of these rows of grapevines can determine the difference between harvest successes and failures. Rows in California are usually oriented north-south to expose the plants and grapes to just the right balance of sunlight, temperature, and humidity as sun angles change throughout the day. (Hilly terrain, such as in the Napa-Sonoma region, often presents exceptional challenges to these industry norms.) The result is an orderly, repetitious, monoculture landscape that contrasts with the diversity imagined on traditional American family farms.

In contrast to some big ag stereotypes, Gallo has demonstrated it is in this for the long run; they’ve invested in a range of sustainable farming methods that regularly win awards and polish their public reputation. And why not be proud of it? Here are some brief excerpts from their website: “As a family-owned company, GALLO has kept sustainable practices as one of our core values since 1933. Our commitment to our founders’ vision has expanded to not only protecting​ our land for future generations, but also improving the quality of life of our employees, and enhancing the communities where we work and live.”

And from the Gallo Sustainability Impact Report, “At Gallo, we are leaders in sustainability through our enduring commitment to environmental, social, and economic practices so that future generations may flourish.”… “All of the Winery’s coastal vineyards participate in a unique land management plan started by the co-founders where for every acre of land planted in vineyard, one acre of property is set aside to help protect and enhance wildlife habitat. … E. & J. Gallo Winery has led the way in developing and refining new environmentally friendly practices such as minimizing the use of synthetic chemicals, fertilizers and pesticides, recycling and reusing processed water, creating new wetlands and protecting existing riparian habitats.” Perhaps Gallo has more in common with Burroughs Family Farms than we may have originally thought. 

Whether from a small family farm or big ag, much of our food and drink is produced in the Central Valley. These field experiences into the heart of the valley help us appreciate the work that goes into growing and harvesting what we take for granted, and in decoding the lasting imprints these people and their industries leave on our landscapes, economies, and cultures.

A big thanks goes to Professor Alison McNally for organizing and leading the field trip. Other leaders at Cal State University Stanislaus (such as Professor, Department Chair, and CGS President Peggy Hauselt and professor and former CGS President Jennifer Helzer) worked to make the conference such a success. I am forever indebted to the professionals in the California Geographical Society for championing more than three decades of action-packed scholarly conferences that have informed my teaching and writing, including so many stories on this website. This year, I am particularly grateful for receiving their prestigious Outstanding Educator Award for 2025. After four decades of research, teaching, writing, and putting my heart into such a rewarding profession, this unforgettable conference was icing on my career cake. Thanks to all!    

Here are additional sources for those interested in regenerative agriculture:

Sustainable Harvest International

Foodtank

Farmsteaders Documentary

Alison Mcnally also sent these sources recommended by Rosie:

Common Ground – https://commongroundfilm.org/ streaming on Amazon – a follow up to the film “Kiss the Ground”, Common Ground takes a look at regenerative agriculture and the importance of it as an alternative to conventional agriculture. Some of the footage was taken at Burroughs Family Farms.

TED talk featuring Dr. Jonathan Ludgren (founder and director of Ecdysis Foundation) (13 minutes): https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=okgGmohpaJQ – 

Finally, another Alison recommendation: Jean-Martin Bauer, who has managed food programs and worked as a food security analyst for the United Nations World Food Programme around the globe, is the author of The New Breadline: Hunger and Hope in the Twenty-First Century.

THE END

The post Big Ag Vs. Small Regenerative Farming first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

Why Join the Naturalists?

We can’t survive without access to the fresh air, water, food, shelter, spiritual enrichment, aesthetics, personal restoration, and nature’s other essentials that allow us to celebrate life on this third planet from the sun. Our very physical and mental health depend on nature. But our popular cultures have detached us from Earth’s natural systems and cycles, the very forces and processes that rule our world, resulting in perilous dysfunctions that even AI cannot treat or resolve. And have you checked the news lately? Our nature deficit disorders are having tragic consequences that threaten humans, millions of other species, and the very future of our planet.

The UC California Naturalist statewide natural resource education and service program is coming to the rescue! This extraordinary program fosters “a diverse community of naturalists and promotes stewardship of California’s natural resources through education and service.” They draw you in with refreshing truth telling: “We cannot protect and restore California’s unique ecology without an environmentally literate, engaged public.” … and … “Becoming a naturalist offers a chance to explore nature and deepen your understanding of how nature works.” And then they make you offers you can’t refuse: “Are you interested in nature? Do you love CA’s diverse ecosystems? Embark on an immersive adventure with experts. Deepen your understanding of ecology and forge lasting friendships. This course has graduated career starters through retirees, all learning together to become a community of Certified California Naturalists.” How could we resist this magical week in Yosemite?

Follow Us on this Magical Natural History Tour

Join me on this journey as I share some of our day-to-day discoveries from the experts in the field who live this stuff. Images and excerpts from more than 32 pages of field notes prove that, even after leading hundreds of field classes and field trips with thousands of my students and colleagues over more than three decades, we and I will never stop learning. (The stories here are taken from my personal field notes and some occasional background research. All photos are mine and are not edited or manipulated in any way.) Let your curiosity fly like the clouds and wings over Half Dome in this Yosemite natural history expedition.   

Chris Cameron was our organizer, leader, and master instructor for these exceptional learning experiences. Without Chris, a one-of-a-kind tour guide and educator, we wouldn’t be able to retrace our steps because there wouldn’t be any. He demonstrated phenomenal skills in gathering seasoned professionals and curious students together to learn within nature’s living laboratories. And his people skills are the icing on the cake!    

Each day of our expedition gets its own page in this story; simply click to the page that matches the day and/or subject. You are encouraged to follow me chronologically to soak in the full benefits. Here’s how it’s all organized:

Day/Page One (Saturday, 4-12-2025): From the Central Valley up to ECCO in Oakhurst
Day/Page Two (Sunday, 4-13-2025): Geology, Creation, and More than 100 Million Years
Day/Page Three (Monday, 4-14-2025): Healthy Forests and Roaring Falls
Day/page Four (Tuesday, 4-15-2025): Cliffs, Bats, Fires, Technology and Botany
Day/Page Five (Wednesday, 4-16-2025): Following the Trail to Native Americans and American Settlers
Day/Page Six (Thursday 4-17-2025): Grazing, Logging, and Hunting, Oh My!
Day/Page Seven (Friday 4-18-2025): Sharing Our Discoveries

Day One (Saturday, 4-12-2025): From the Central Valley up to ECCO in Oakhurst:

A drive north along Hwy 41 from Fresno eventually takes you out of the Central Valley, which shines as the country’s most productive agricultural landscapes. This sprawling valley is vital in making California the number one agricultural state in the nation, as the state generates well more than $50 billion income per year from farm products.     

As the road gradually slopes up toward Sierra Nevada foothills, we find ourselves surrounded by open grasslands that recall the vast prairies that once dominated the Golden State’s inland valleys before the Spanish arrived. You will notice cattle grazing on pastoral rolling hills, landscapes occasionally interrupted and sliced by serpentine streams and rivers meandering from east to west, out of higher elevations and into the valley. (These lush narrow riparian strips are what remains (less than 10%) of the broad gallery forests that once extended on both sides of streams and rivers flowing out of the Sierra Nevada.) Today’s hills turn verdant green by April and erupt into rainbow displays of wildflowers such as lupine. But the grasses and flowers will soon dehydrate to the golden browns of punishing summer drought, leaving their seeds in parched soils, waiting for next winter’s rains and next spring’s renewed fantastical displays.

But another invader has recently rivaled the seasonal nonnative grasses on these gentle slopes at the base of the Sierra Nevada Mountains: humans and their developments. Developers are gobbling up some of these landscapes and attracting people who want to escape urban crowds, chaos, and traffic. “Build it and they will come” continues to spread across these landscapes that tourists have been passing by for decades on their way to the high country. Entire wannabe self-sufficient communities have been sprouting and extending over the grasslands and oak woodlands. And the changes are not coming without controversy. As these ecosystems are scraped up and paved, some locals are watching their reasons for living here disappear, while recent arrivals find relative peace and quiet in their perceived bucolic settings. Talk of limited water and other resources, habitat destruction, loss of open spaces, pollution, land values, affordable housing, and increasing traffic congestion is replacing the traditional agrarian discourse and cultures. Such noticeable changes are stretching and then redefining our perceptions of wildland-urban interfaces. The end of this world as we knew it may be just one more development away.

Once we get up above about 1,000’ elevation, where a little more precipitation falls and temperatures are a bit cooler, an assortment of scattered oak trees pops up above the ground cover. At about 2,000’, the woodlands thicken and diversify to include gray pine and other drought-tolerant trees. These scraggly pines with long, grayish needles and big cones often appear bent and twisted as though they were dancing through the night and were suddenly frozen in a pose by the morning light, waiting for summer’s fire or winter’s first merciful rehydrating showers. As we progress higher, slopes tend to steepen and we notice mixed pine forests as we look up toward snow in the distant high country. (We will revisit Sierra Nevada’s vegetation zones in more detail during the next few days.) We drop down into the town of Oakhurst (elevation 2,274’), nestled in its little valley that many consider the gateway to Yosemite. Traveling up and a little farther north, we finally turn off Hwy 41 and will settle, hang our hats, and share tasty meals at ECCO each night, which is a pretty typical option for tour and educational groups looking for base camps in and near Yosemite: “The Episcopal Conference Center Oakhurst (ECCO) has been serving the religious, educational and non-profit conference and retreat needs of Fresno, Madera, Mariposa and the rest of California’s Central Valley since 1982.”       

This is where we can hear Yosemite calling from just several miles away. The rolling landscapes in and around ECCO (about 3,100’ ASL) is populated with mostly open oak and pine woodland. The deciduous oak trees are just beginning to sprout by mid-April, careful to avoid any late-season freezes. A giant pond with a fountain demands attention, decorating the property and attracting more than our senses. Depending on the season, an assortment of waterfowl and other wildlife visit or live around the water (more than 100 species of birds have been recorded there), demonstrating animal behaviors that deserve a line or two in our field notebooks.

Wild turkeys are particularly entertaining as they dive out of their trees (where they roost at night to avoid predators) early in the morning and trot around during the day. Their toe-walking and dragging one foot in front of the other leaves an arrowhead-like trail. Turkeys are not native to California, but numerous attempts to introduce them finally became successful so that their numbers multiplied since the 1960s until they now total about 250,000 in the state. These omnivores mate and lay their eggs during spring. Gestation takes about a month and they are most vulnerable to predators (such as coyote, bobcats, foxes, some birds, and domesticated animals) after hatching. Adults may become nuisances around humans as they show aggression with their flapping and pecking; their droppings also get pretty messy. They’ve been known to damage gardens and attack their reflections in windows and on the sides of cars.  

The turkeys remind us that every species of plant and animal, every landscape, rock, cloud, water drop, and weather event have captivating natural history stories to tell. Informative and useful narratives grow from research that connects all of us to our natural world. We can see why this is just one of the naturalist programs across the US. Master instructor Chris Cameron started our course by summarizing how we celebrate biodiversity with environmental literacy, scientific and social understanding, by honing our interpretive skills, and practicing collaborative conservation. We reviewed our state’s bioregions and geomorphic provinces (from page 29 in our required California Naturalist Handbook), which coincide with the physiographic regions we have explored in numerous stories on this website and in my publications. And we recognized how the California Floristic Province, a biological hotspot with its thousands of species that include a large percentage of endemics, is experiencing a biodiversity crises as increasing numbers of those unique plants and animals are threatened with extinction. We recognize how naturalists’ work has become crucial as we observe, communicate, and act to build essential links between scientists and the average person. After dinner, our first day and evening ended with my presentation that summarized some fascinating properties of water and the weather patterns and climates that rule over our plant communities, topics we have highlighted on this website and in my recent California Sky Watcher book and statewide tour.      

Click (below) to the next page and day.

The post Cal Naturalists Invade Yosemite first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

There are at least five main themes threading through these images and videos. First, the steep slopes, loose materials, and stripped ground cover leave landscapes vulnerable to any significant precipitation, especially heavy downpours. Such mud and debris flow threats will continue with every rain event until sometime in April, when our normal annual wet season usually ends. Then, there’s always next year. Second, note the haphazard and unpredictable burn patterns that determined which homes, neighborhoods, and businesses were destroyed and which survived the firestorms as they swept through. Third, many of you may have to strain to recognize what is left of some iconic SoCal landscapes and neighborhoods seen and celebrated in countless films, TV series, commercials, and videos over the decades. Fourth, note how the wildfires didn’t discriminate, ravaging diverse neighborhoods from rich to middle- and working-class. Finally, we will end with a few articles that summarizes how we built ourselves into this disaster-prone corner.

I am also sharing the following images to confirm that there is no reason to visit the devastation, since you are not likely to discover anything new that hasn’t already been displayed multiple times in the media. And there are at least five reasons (yes, another list!) to NOT go wandering into the Palisades or any other recently burned areas. First, PCH and other roads along that entire coastline and into the Santa Monica Mountains will be subject to closures at least through what remains of our rainy season. Second, even if you find an open road, the one-lane traffic gridlock is a frustrating waste of time. Third, you can’t turn off or even briefly stop without getting cited (at best) or arrested by an army of law enforcement officers. Fourth, these are toxic landscapes that pose a host of health hazards and dangers to visitors. Finally, cleanup and construction crews are working hard to rebuild essential infrastructures throughout Pacific Palisades and Altadena. The last obstacles they need are selfie crowds getting in their way and impeding their progress. So, as you view immediate post-fire images here and in the media, know that there is nothing more to see as the cleanup progresses.

The Mountain and Franklin Fires as Warnings

Two months before the mass destruction in LA County, the Mountain Fire erupted in nearby Ventura County. Strong Santa Ana winds (as predicted) also fanned this blaze that consumed nearly 20,000 acres and 243 homes and commercial structures. Just about one month later, the Franklin Fire ignited on Dec 9 and quickly grew to 4,000 acres as powerful Santa Ana winds (again, as predicted) funneled through the Malibu Canyon wind tunnel and toward the beach. In contrast to the Palisades and Eaton fires, it only destroyed or damaged 48 structures, including a few homes. For instance, Pepperdine students and staff were forced to shelter in place as the flames raced around them, but the campus survived. Heroic efforts by savvy firefighters helped to contain the damage, but it also helped that Malibu Canyon had burned just several years earlier. Researchers use the historical record to estimate that this area has burned in wildfires on an average of two times/decade (the entire Malibu coastline is impacted by even more frequent fires), which decreases potential fuel build ups. But such frequent fires also encourage the invasion of nonnative species that are more flammable, leading to even more frequent fires and accelerated wildfire growth. By most Decembers, our fire season has been snuffed out by winter rains. (Rains brought welcome relief months earlier in the previous two years.)  But this year’s long drought dragged, incredibly, into late January, through the middle of our rainy season. The stage was set for relentless Santa Ana winds that would take over from there. As finger pointing mounts about details and specific responses to these wildfires, here are a few facts to keep the debates honest.

Unraveling Some Misconceptions

First, these firestorms had nothing to do with water diversions from Northern Cal. The state had just experienced two consecutive banner wet years that finally broke our two-decades-long megadrought and then competed for the wettest on record. Nearly all of our reservoirs were recently filled and our state water projects overflowed with more water than we could distribute and use. Unfortunately, the several months of recent unprecedented drought that followed those storms dehydrated the biomass that accumulated during the previous two rainy years, providing abundant dry fuels for ignitions. Our state’s water diversion and storage projects were performing well, but were surrounded by dehydrating Mediterranean plant communities interspersed with encroaching human developments, all enduring prolonged and historic Santa Ana winds. Only the details were left to debate in this landscape made for disaster, where millions of Californians found themselves within an expanding wildland-urban interface.

As example, the one relatively small reservoir that served Pacific Palisades had been “taken out of service to “meet safe drinking water regulations,” the DWP said in a statement. A tear in the reservoir’s cover made the water supply subject to contamination, the Los Angeles Times reported, leading the agency to drain it in February.”  … (meaning last Feb.). This left three one-million-gallon tanks to serve the Palisades, which were more than adequate for providing safe drinking and irrigation water and for fighting multiple structure fires. They obviously weren’t enough for fighting the stampeding wave of flames. Many fire hydrants designed to battle structural fires and smaller brush fires were also inadequate for such a colossal bombardment. Such details will be the focus of investigations into how heroic firefighters could have had a better infrastructure to support their efforts as winds peaked over 70mph. Many scientists, engineers, and firefighters question whether ANY water infrastructure could have made much of a difference in this firestorm fanned by wicked winds that also hampered air assaults. This was also the case in the Altadena inferno, where fist-sized burning embers were being blown up to a mile ahead of the fire front. 

Finally, for those of you not familiar with SoCal, our wildfires that spread into neighborhoods did not (and usually don’t) erupt and spread from a “forest’, but from our coastal sage scrub, chaparral, and related plant communities that help define our Mediterranean climates and ecosystems; so, “forest” management is not relevant. We’ve heard suggestions that our plant communities should be destroyed to protect nearby developments, but that would require clearing at least half-mile strips surrounding every structure. This would represent habitat destruction on a massive scale, accelerate species extinctions in our unique California Floristic Province, and wipe out thousands of natives and endemics. And they would likely be replaced by invasive nonnative grasses and other highly flammable biomass that act as conduits for fires. Proposed “clearance” on such a grand scale would also result in more frequent and catastrophic floods and debris flows out of these disturbed, vulnerable landscapes during nearly every rain event. We’ve seen this movie and its sequels play out too often: the very plant communities that protect us by absorbing floodwaters and stabilizing our slopes, provide habitats for a dizzying array of plant and animal species, and represent open spaces where we can appreciate and study our natural history, can suddenly turn on us by sending their burning embers.

Our careless developments and dysfunctional relationships within these very ecosystems that we cherish have been debated for decades and these difficult debates will (and should) continue into the future. It took many decades to build ourselves into this worst-case scenario fire corner. For more objective analyses and some back-to-reality answers, check out the links that follow my aftermath images, at the end of this story. As you view the following images, please remember that they are what remains of thousands of families’ hard work over many decades … shattered lives, hopes, and dreams incinerated into ashes.

Before we skip inland over to Altadena and the Eaton Fire aftermath, here’s just one example of what was lost in the Palisades. Some folks who couldn’t afford to buy a house on the beach opted for a mobile home and also lost everything. This real estate description paints a pretty clear picture of life there in the before times:
16321 PCH
Pacific Palisades Bowl Mobile Home Estates
Roughly $500,000-$1 million
What’s special
BREATHTAKING DRAMATIC OCEAN VIEWS MARBLE BACKSPLASHES CUSTOM CABINETRY EXPANSIVE MASTER SUITE SEPARATE PANTRY ROOM QUARTZ COUNTERTOPS HIGH-END FINISHES
MOVE-IN READY! This stunning, new construction custom-designed, 2-story beach home is perfectly positioned across from the iconic Will Rogers Beach in Pacific Palisades, offering an unmatched combination of luxury, convenience, and coastal beauty. The home’s prime location provides breathtaking, dramatic ocean views from Malibu to Catalina Island, visible upon upper level. Entering, you’ll be enveloped by a bright, open ambiance that seamlessly merges indoor and outdoor living. Natural light floods the home, illuminating the carefully crafted details throughout. With 2 bedrooms and 2 bathrooms, this home boasts soaring 9-foot ceilings and elegant double-door entries that enhance its spacious, airy feel. The first floor offers a convenient bathroom, while upstairs, the expansive master suite awaits with a dual-entry bath alongside a second well-appointed bedroom. Every inch of this home has been thoughtfully curated with high-end finishes, including quartz countertops, marble backsplashes, and custom cabinetry with pull-out shelves in the chef’s kitchen. The kitchen is equipped with premium stainless steel appliances, a Shaw’s farm sink, a gas oven, vented exhaust fan, disposal, refrigerator, dishwasher, separate pantry room, and stackable washer and dryer. Additional features include central heating and a tankless water heater, enhancing both comfort and efficiency. Outside, imagine crafting your ideal outdoor retreat on a spacious 320-square-foot second-story deck, perfect for lounging and entertaining while soaking in the endless ocean views. Dedicated two parking spaces and guest parking available, and 24-hour private security patrol. Residents enjoy access to premium community amenities, including a large heated pool, hot tub, billiards room, and a recreational area. Positioned near Palisades Village and top-rated schools, this home combines luxury with practicality. Cross PCH via a nearby crosswalk for quick beach access, and enjoy low space rent of $970/month with rent control, plus the added financial benefits of no annual property taxes or HOA fees. Purchase includes city and coastal approved plans for custom built deck for convenience.

Eaton Fire (Altadena) Aftermath

Altadena is only about 25 miles (straight line distance) northeast of the Palisades, but most locals would tell you that they seem worlds apart. It can take about an hour (depending on traffic) to navigate from one to the other and you might feel that you’ve been transported hundreds of miles from a beach once you finally arrive in Altadena. Adjacent to Pasadena of Rose Bowl and Parade fame, Altadena is nestled on the edge of the San Gabriel Valley at the base of the San Gabriel Mountains. It looks up to the abrupt steep slopes (once covered by chaparral and woodlands) that tower all the way up to Mt. Wilson, all being lifted along a series of active faults. Cooling sea breezes often struggle to make it this far inland during hot summer days when the smog can get caught below the infamous inversion and jammed against the mountains. By contrast, during winter, this region can resemble a warm, sunny paradise when their spectacular snow-clad mountains point into crystal clear blue skies.

Compared to the Palisades, Altadena displays cultural diversity that is more representative of California. This is partly because the neighborhood known as Altadena Meadows was one of the few communities where black families were allowed to settle, back during the days when segregation was enforced and redlining ruled. Thousands of working- and middle- class families worked hard for decades to improve these neighborhoods, often hoping to pass their investments on to future generations. I learned about Altadena when I frequented Pasadena, enjoyed hikes into the local canyons, and developed a working relationship with the heroes of the Eaton Canyon Docents, led by Diane Lang. There at the renowned Eaton Canyon Natural Area and Nature Center, we trained docents to guide school groups and visitors eager to learn about the natural history of these treasured Mediterranean landscapes. We learned a lot of science while exploring the natural systems and cycles that rule our world and we soothed plenty of nature deficit disorders.

All of it has been lost. Surrounding slopes, the nature center, homes of some of the docents (including Diane’s house), much of Altadena and more of Altadena Meadows has burned to the ground. We always studied and understood how fire plays such an important role in these ecosystems and locals even recalled when another wildfire burst out of the mountains and burned the old nature center in October, 1993. But this fire was different, as it was fanned by the fiercest Santa Ana winds that blew burning embers a mile ahead of the front. Just as the Palisades Fire was destroying everything in its path all the way to the beach 25 miles away, this fire would not stop at the base of the mountains. It was blown ahead right into the city, destroying entire neighborhoods that most people thought were far removed from wildland fires. Within one tragic day and night, Altadena and Pacific Palisades were connected in ways that some could not have imagined. The two previous stories on this website summarized the conditions that led to these tragedies and why they exploded out of control. But perhaps the key word is control. Nature’s awesome power reminds us that we cannot separate ourselves; we are just parts and players within these natural systems and cycles.

In case you missed it, positive messages and messengers of hope are gradually rising out of the ashes in Altadena. Here’s one example of a local artist who is making a difference in Altadena Meadows. It includes some video from the air: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nYPmFS84SiA

This interview confirms how a reality check and building paradigm shift is necessary if we expect to develop more fire-resistant communities. (Thanks to Bill Patzert for sending it along.)

This is a very thorough summary of the corner we have built ourselves into, and our long LA fire history. Thanks again to Bill Patzert for sharing.

Here’s another LA Times article that sums up the problem and some potential solutions.

This Malibu Times article is dated, but leaves us with a rough fire history up to 2007.

If you’re in to geospatial imagery, check out these before and after NASA EARTHDATA images captured in January, 2025, by the MSI instrument aboard ESA’s Sentinel-2A platform.

This camera shows the advancing smoke and flames that eventually consume a Pacific Palisades neighborhood.

This video (it is a long journey) takes you up from PCH through Topanga Canyon in the aftermath to see what burned and what escaped the flames, illustrating why any substantial rain will produce destructive mud and debris flows. It was filmed on January 17th.

Here is a Pacific Palisades Aftermath Tour.

Let’s hope this will be THE END of our disaster stories for a while.

The post Cataclysmic Aftermath Landscapes first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

Here is a deeper story that explains how this happened, but more importantly, why it’s happening now. I will guide you through the play-by-play, always emphasizing the science behind the scenes, so you can see that this catastrophe is not past tense, no matter how much later you are reading about it. To set the stage, make sure you wander through our previous website story about precipitation extremes to understand how we got here.

Two years of heavy rains + a record nine months of drought + epic windstorms + low humidity all along the wildland-urban interface = …

It started with two years of record rainfall (competing for the most rain ever recorded in the Los Angeles area during two consecutive years), which finally broke our more than two-decades-old megadrought. Rehydrated plant communities flourished. Ecosystems added tons of biomass. Grasslands, coastal sage scrub, chaparral, oak woodlands, riparian woodlands, and every other plant community joined the party. As usual, the rain stopped last spring to make way for summer’s drought, starving our Mediterranean ecosystems of water. Through the autumn months, as water content in our plants dwindled each day, the annual race was on to see which would come first: Santa Ana winds or the first rains. Substantial early rains typically douse the fire season until next year. But, as I mentioned in the previous story on this website, the storms didn’t even show up for this year’s competition. SoCal’s widespread rainfall totals since spring remained near or below ¼ inch by mid-January, the middle of our rainy season. (As example, LA Airport had recorded only 0.04 inches and Santa Monica was at 0.09 inches for the water year well into mid-January, making this compete for the driest stretch on record for the region.)

Next, add autumn’s dry winds. By mid-November, previous gentle offshore breezes occasionally turned to classic Santa Ana winds and red flag warnings, finally sweeping shallow marine layers out to sea. Relative humidity tanked. The Mountain Fire in Camarillo scorched more than 20,000 acres, 200 structures (including homes), and destroyed millions of dollars of agricultural products in early November. By December 9, it still hadn’t rained, encouraging the Franklin Fire to terrorize Malibu all the way to PCH during another gusty Santa Ana wind event. Sadly, these were just dress rehearsals for the big shows.

As January progressed, offshore wind episodes became more threatening as the great drying trend expanded across the entire state. By early January, the National Weather Service was warning of dangerous, life-threatening (and possibly historic) Santa Ana winds that would barrel into Southern California on Tuesday, the 7^th. Unfortunately, the forecasters nailed it. By Tuesday afternoon, the winds were howling until it seemed as if helicopters were hovering above our homes all night. I’ve written about these devil winds before on this website and in my book and I’ve experienced and researched scores of them over decades, but this was different.

We were caught in a wide, massive atmospheric wind tunnel midway between a low-pressure system dropping to our southeast and a strong high-pressure system trying to assert itself to our west. Upper- and lower-level support grew into an historic pressure gradient that forced cool, stable air masses toward the coast, where they would be warmed by compression. But there was another problem: the mountains were in the way. As the heavy air parcels were pushed up the opposite sides of the mountains, they eventually made it to the top, where they were free to cascade down the coastal slopes toward the ocean to become leeward waves. Widespread gusts were clocked at over 70 mph; a few made it over 90 mph. Meandering mountain waves, chaotic eddies, and violent rotary currents formed downwind of the mountains, spreading over developments, infrastructure, and millions of residents on the coastal plain. Though the powerful winds blew from the continent, wind directions would temporarily jerk one way and then the other without warning as the powerful eddies circulated by. Giant trees and power poles were toppled as power outages swept across Southern California. The big show began to resemble a terrifying scene in a science fiction movie, except you couldn’t write a script that could better prime a landscape for the ignitions that would follow.

My chronological photo essay below illustrates how a wildfire can quickly explode into a deadly monster, consuming everything in its path until it meets the ocean. This was the case as our beloved Pacific Palisades natural and human landscapes were destroyed within a few hours this week. Given the conditions I’ve just described, it should also be no surprise that another conflagration would race out of the foothills below the San Gabriel Mountains on the same day. The death and destruction barged into Altadena and Pasadena neighborhoods that seemed far removed from the dangers of what we might consider a wildland-urban interface. (The extend of such imaginary boundaries is being reevaluated.) The greatest surprise may be how heroic firefighters were finally able to stop such an out-of-control train inferno before it did even more damage.  

I’ve experienced and written about too many of these disasters over the years. The ominous red sky, the choking smoke, curious ashes fluttering down to resemble delicate snowflakes, butterfly wings, and rose petals: you may have read about them here or in my book. But I’m one of the lucky ones—so far—as these heartbreaking catastrophes become more common. Admit it or not, we all know what’s going on here. Our relationship with nature has gone seriously awry. We’re testing her and she’s winning and she always will. We’ve got to find better ways to increase our natural history and science literacy and reconnect to the real world or we’re all toast. Without such a paradigm shift, we will continue to feel the potential of the California Dream, and all that we love about our Golden State, slip away. And if you think you can simply escape to other states or countries with greener pastures, take a closer look at the chaos and dysfunction beyond our borders. Maybe if you stick around, you can play your role in righting our ship.

UCLA’s Park Williams and other researchers have teamed up to learn how much of these severe events might be connected to the bigger climate change puzzle. Click here for their most recent article.

Here’s another perspective (slightly compressed) from renowned climatologist Bill Patzert:
“…decades of ‘criminal’ zoning, totally irresponsible building codes, inadequate water storage to deal with fire apocalypses and not dealing with a power delivery system that ignites fires year after year, are the major culprits.” 
Patzert also emphasizes that “global warming is the greatest existential threat to the environment and our civilization, but what we are living through now is human carelessness and ignoring the natural climate forces of Southern California.” But his interview with the LA Times sums up this year: “During my career, I’ve never seen punishing Santa Ana events so overwhelm the normal winter rainy season.”

Regardless, here is where my sign-offs are getting a bit repetitive: keep your seatbelts fastened.

And now follow me as we watch the peculiar behavior of the horrific wildfire that terrorized the Pacific Palisades and changed our world.

If you want to experience the drama of escaping the Palisades firestorm and rushing to evacuate, check out Tracy’s series of photos and videos arranged in chronological order as escapees eventually make it down to PCH. The last images show an heroic officer using their hose to douse spot fires started by embers landing in their yard. Note how such a fire can advance with its burning embers through the sky faster than on the ground. (Please appreciate that these images are personal, raw, and unedited.)

Here is a time-lapse video showing the start of the Palisades Fire from another angle from 10:45am – 2:48pm. Thanks to NPS Ranger Susan Teele for sharing.

This time-lapse video shows a Mt. Wilson view of the Eaton Fire from January 7-8. Another thanks to NPS Ranger Susan Teele for sharing.

Notice how above-average precipitation quickly dwindles to far below average for this season as we move from Northern California to Southern California weather stations: https://ggweather.com/seasonal_rain.htm

This NY Times article supports Bill Patzert’s earlier comments.

Check out this NY Times Article: Researchers show how Santa Ana wind speed is the main variable that makes SoCal fires more destructive.

This research is from the International Journal of Wildland Fire: Climate and weather drivers in southern California Santa Ana Wind and non-Santa Wind fires

Santa Ana wind history and trends.

THE END??? All the stories on this website and in my California Sky Watcher book confirm what we’ve learned from experience: nature’s cycles never “end” and we’re just a part of them. Should it finally start raining in SoCal, the next chapters will likely feature catastrophic mud and debris flows that always follow these fires after they have stripped the covers off our hillsides. Stay tuned!

The Unimaginable Epilogue

Dominant upper-level high-pressure systems settled over the entire West Coast and generated exceptionally dry on-and-off offshore wind events across California for more than two weeks after the worst wildfires started. In Southern California, powerful Santa Ana winds howled through January 23, fanning numerous new fires just as crews tried to mop up some of the most destructive wildfires in California history. Relative humidity dropped into single digits throughout SoCal. But finally, for the first time since spring, weather forecasters were tracking a low-pressure system capable of delivering precipitation that promised to be the final blow to the fires by January 26. This little system wouldn’t direct any atmospheric rivers over the fire scars. We will have to wait to see if those will arrive during our other normally wet months of February and March. To learn more about the science and power of atmospheric rivers, you might check out my story about ARs on this website or read my feature article in the current edition of Weatherwise Magazine.          

Here are three videos shared by Karin from the Topanga Canyon Docents:

Topanga resident Elena Roche made a number of videos during the fire. You can see more on her YouTube site. Here, active fires were blocked just before they could burn through the community of Topanga and parts of Trippet Ranch. By this time, the fire fronts were spreading several miles around after ravaging the Pacific Palisades.

This video takes you up from PCH through Topanga Canyon in the aftermath to see what burned and what escaped the flames, and why any substantial rain will produce destructive mud and debris flows. It was filmed on January 17th.

Here are personal stories from the Topanga New Times published just before the first rain finally came.

The documentary Dry Times, made by Anurag Kumar and Alex Gregory, has, unfortunately, become more relevant as it captured California’s recurring predicaments during the megadrought that spanned more than two decades: Given recent events, this has become a haunting trailer. The Movie

The post Making Sense of our Apocalyptic Firestorms first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

Fire has been our friend for millennia. Humans have enjoyed the benefits of controlled fires used to cook our food, heat our spaces, comfort us as we sat around our campfires, provide light and protection, clear and manage landscapes, burn waste, and power our engines. By contrast, many of us have also been terrorized by the unforgettable life-and-death experience of getting too close to an out-of-control blaze. That’s when capricious fire can be likened to an unpredictable vicious predator that breaks out of its cage, or a scene from one of those Jurassic Park movies when Tyrannosaurus rex crashes through its confining barriers. Suddenly, anything goes and we are at the mercy of what we thought we had under our control. Fire is another example of how the very nature that nurtures us can suddenly morph into the misadventure or calamity that kills us. Humans’ relationship with fire has always been complex, but it would be difficult to imagine a place where this partnership has been more misunderstood, abused, researched, and reevaluated, than in California during the last several decades.

During the 20th Century, we began to better understand how wildfires play such vital roles in shaping our Mediterranean ecosystems and landscapes. We reluctantly acknowledged that they must occasionally and necessarily revisit our grasslands, woodlands, and even some forests, and how Native Americans, for thousands of years, encouraged fire’s eminence with their control burns. Until the late 1900s, much of the timber industry and some environmentalists ignored these realities, especially in our most cherished forests that include ancient redwoods. After all, forest fires can destroy beautiful trees and valuable timber destined to become forest products. The infernos kill precious wildlife and leave ugly open scars and charred landscapes that remind us of fire’s terror, death, and destruction. But we now better understand how, even in our redwood forests, wildfires establish delicate successional cycles, balances that must be maintained if California’s ecosystems are to survive and prosper.        

We can’t be blamed for the obsessive love we have shown for what remains of redwoods that weren’t cut down and sent to the mills. (Less than 5% of our old-growth coast redwood forests were spared from the saws.) California’s two redwood species represent the largest and tallest trees on Earth. On the surface, these majestic forests appear to be the last places where you would expect, much less want, to see a fire. So, we did our best to keep fire away from these stately behemoths that can grow to more than 2,000 years old. But it was fire suppression and other human interference (such as the introduction of volatile nonnatives) that set the stage for recent unprecedented conflagrations in California forests. The megadrought that extended through the first two decades of this century (enhanced by climate change on steroids) provided the blowtorch on landscapes with abundant accumulated fuel to burn. Scientists and nature lovers looked on in horror and then heartbreak as many of our ancient redwood forests were incinerated.

The largest, hottest, and most destructive wildfires in California history swept through from 2015-2021. But the long-term effects of these intense burns in our redwood forests have been quite different, depending on the contrasting species and plant communities: Giant Sequoias (Sequoiadendron giganteum) along the western slopes of the Sierra Nevada and Coast Redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) along the north coast fog belt.

As winter storms drift off the Pacific and encounter the Sierra Nevada, air is forced to rise up western slopes, where it cools and condenses, dropping abundant orographic precipitation. Heavy snows are common, which gradually melt into the deep sandy soils as spring advances toward summer. Giant sequoias rely on this meltwater into the summer drought. Occasional summer thunderstorms might also briefly interrupt the seasonal droughts, but they are not such reliable sources of water. However, those summer storms also produce lightning that ignites fires in Sierra Nevada forests, producing a fire season that peaks during the hotter summers and often lingers until the first early winter-season storms can douse them.

Following decades of fire suppression and accumulating fuels since the 1800s, and the introduction and invasion of highly combustible nonnative grasses and other species, a devastating megadrought plagued California. It started around 2000 and lasted for more than two decades. (These weather patterns and their impacts have been highlighted in multiple stories on this website and in my new book, The California Sky Watcher.) Though this historic dry period was punctuated by a few brief wet episodes and floods fueled by powerful atmospheric rivers, gradually warming temperatures and extreme summer heat waves quickly evaporated water out of our ecosystems and into the atmosphere with increasing vapor pressure deficits. Weather stations across the state repeatedly recorded their hottest days, months, and seasons, breaking all-time records. Bark beetles and other opportunists exploited the moment, further weakening native species and ecosystems already under stress.  

From 2015-2021, at least six major fires raged through 85% of Sierra Nevada’s giant sequoia groves. The most destructive was the Castle Fire in August 2020, which killed 7,500-10,600 giant sequoias or about 10-15% of all Sequoiadendron giganteum on Earth. In September, 2021, the Complex Fire killed 1,300-2,400 giants and the Windy Fire destroyed another 900-1,300 of our cherished ancients that can grow up to 3,000 years old. All three named wildfires were ignited by lightning. By the end of 2021, nearly 20% of all giant sequoias had burned to death within only seven years. And now, it is feared that denuded ecosystems and other stresses could kill more fire-ravaged trees as we witness delayed mortality rates. I remember watching Christy Brigham (Chief of Resources Management and Science at Kings and Sequoia National Parks) on national network TV, as the media interviewed her in their stories about the devastating fires. Years earlier, Christy had worked with my students, helping to guide my field classes into her research. Fast forward and there she was again, the celebrity ranger and scientist under the Sequoias, attempting to educate a national audience about the importance of managing our forests and limiting climate change so that we might save what unique and precious resources remain.                       

We have learned how our giant sequoia forests, like other California plant communities, thrive with occasional wildfires. Older, tall sequoias have thick, fibrous, fire-resistant bark and they drop lower limbs as they grow so that fires can’t leap up from below into their towering crowns. Heat from the fires below encourages seed dispersal into recently-cleared soils. Over the millennia, these forest floors were regularly cleared by occasional ground fires that consumed accumulated fuels and took out smaller trees before they could act as chimneys to guide the flames higher. After more than a century of fire suppression, we realized our mistakes. But when the megadrought hit, it was already too late and it will take decades to reverse these trends that humans have set in motion. And so, the ancient giants burn and die.

Moving to the Coast

Coast redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens) also benefit from heavy orographic precipitation (up to 100 inches/yr.) that falls when winter storms sweep off the Pacific and encounter coastal slopes. But snow is rare in these moist and cool, but milder climates. Instead, these forests remain damp through most of the summer drought season by catching coastal fog that drifts off the Pacific with the cool sea breeze and then drips down to the forest floor. Since these thick, shady forests appear relatively green and lush throughout the year, and they hold some the greatest biomass of any California terrestrial plant community, it is more difficult to imagine how fires could be such important players. But they are, especially after drought years capped by hot summers.

This is exactly what happened in August of 2020, when yet another summer heatwave sucked remaining precious moisture out of the redwood forests near the end of the megadrought. A series of thunderstorms with dry lightning drifted across California, igniting wildfires in already parched plant communities. The August lightning teamed up with the ongoing megadrought to make 2020 the worst wildfire year in state history. Nearly 10,000 fires burned over 4.4 million acres (about 4% of the entire state).

Multiple ignitions grew into three blazes that combined to form the CZU Lightning Complex Fire, which ripped through nearly all of Big Basin Redwoods State Park, including some of the most beloved coast redwood groves. As pictures filtered through the media, public shock turned to heartbreak. Intense, hot fires feeding off accumulated dry fuels sent flames high into the sky and into the canopy, torching magnificent coast redwoods that had stood for more than 1,000 years. Park headquarters, visitor centers, and other infrastructure turned to ashes. Everything in our cherished forest, where I had sought refuge decades earlier to admire and learn from the wonders of awesome nature, was burned to a crisp. Beloved Big Basin, home to the most southerly extent of our largest old-growth coast redwood groves, accessible to millions of city dwellers in the Bay Area, and treasured by millions of others in and beyond California, was gone. Or, was it?

Here is where the two fire stories diverge as we recognize even more glaring contrasts between the Golden State’s two redwood species and their plant communities. In the links that follow this story, you will see a Big Basin that appears to be burning to the ground. But new redwood growth appeared within weeks after the conflagration, such as basal burl sprouts and sprouts from tree trunks. Decades of carbon storage emerged to the surface as fresh green shoots. And by the time I returned to my cherished sanctuary, recovery and natural regeneration was evident everywhere, only four years after the inferno.

Though the firestorm killed understory species and most Douglas firs, nearly every scorched redwood was sprouting, evolving from snag tress that began to resemble bottlebrush trees. Not only were sprouts emerging from the base of the trees, but charred limbs were being covered with fresh, fuzzy green growth. This is not to understate the damage that had been done. It will take generations for these forests to recover. More xeric chaparral (such as ceanothus) and ecotone species had invaded open spaces that had previously been cool, moist, shaded enclosures sheltered by a redwood canopy. Invasive weeds included crowding opportunists such as French broom and yellow star thistle. Much of the former forest floor was now exposed to intense direct sunlight, encouraging sun-loving invaders that can withstand large daily and annual temperature swings. Exposed creeks and streams ran much warmer in the summer and carried high sediment yields during the winter rainy season. Just before I arrived in 2024, local air temperatures soared over 100°F during an early July heatwave. But the seared coast redwoods somehow survived it all, and a rich diversity of flora and fauna was returning and evolving in a fantastical story of rebirth. Birds and other wildlife, such as raccoon, fox, deer, coyote, and mountain lion were finding homes within the recovering diversity of habitats.

The two contrasting redwood fire regimes in this story leave us with plenty of science lessons about the natural systems and cycles that nurture such forests. As you might expect, these burnt landscapes are attracting researchers from around the world. They include scholars from the Stephens Fire Science Laboratory, the California Fire Science Consortium, and the UC Center for Fire Research and Outreach. The following are just a few summarizing thoughts.

Our most diverse forests represent more resilient plant communities capable of adapting to gradual and sudden extreme changes. Occasional cool fires encourage a diversity of habitats and plant species, which support more diverse animal species, ranging from bees and other insects to much larger predator and prey. By contrast, aggressive fire suppression leads to stagnation and homogeneity, which could lead to the demise of species and entire ecosystems. Likewise, if hot fires reoccur too frequently, introduced grasses and other invasive fire-loving species could encourage even more frequent fires that alter ecosystems. If you think this suggests a delicate and complicated balance, you nailed it. For centuries, most California ecosystems adjusted to relatively cool fires with spotty hot flareups; redwood forests had adjusted to high fire complexities with a large variety of burns that may have returned every 6-35 years or so. Suppressing such fires disrupts natural succession. However, super-hot, frequent fires everywhere can also disrupt natural cycles, leading to decreasing species diversity and ecosystems less resilient to changes that can destroy them. During the last two centuries, humans have interfered with these natural cycles, which has encouraged high fire intensities and severities capable of searing nearly everything in the forest.

In the bigger picture, there are many more examples of how humans have directly impacted California’s natural fire cycles. The most dramatic changes can usually be found in what has gained a most descriptive and popular name: the wildland-urban interface (WUI). We can’t allow wildfires to destroy billions of dollars in property and kill people as they sweep into our communities, so we try to stop them at our fabricated boundaries. But what is considered defensible space is negotiable in a fire regime where burning embers can be blown over a mile from the active front by high winds. These dilemmas become particularly evident as we encroach further into nature and extend our human footprints. How can we ever restore natural fire cycles when we inevitably find ourselves living adjacent to the very natural landscapes we wish to preserve?

Human impacts on particular keystone species have also changed our fire cycles. As just one example, wildlife officials are working to reintroduce the North American Beaver (Castor canadensis) into select waterways across the state. This keystone species is now considered an ecosystem engineer that expands diverse habitats that then increase and improve nature-based ecosystem services. Beaver dams and ponds widen water courses and raise water tables to irrigate larger, lusher, more diverse and productive riparian habitats and gallery forests. Wildfire behaviors change drastically when they approach such wider, well-watered green barriers. Imagine the countless other ways that assisted natural regeneration can increase ecosystem functionality after a forest fire and help reboot our wildlands back toward their natural fire cycles.

I’ve been walking into and gazing up to these magnificent wonders-of-our-world forests to admire and study giant sequoias and coast redwoods for five decades, assuming they would outlive me. I and some of my field students sensed the changes over time. During my next visit, I wonder if these venerable towering elders will be poking fun at me for thinking five decades is a long time. Only now, I must also wonder which of us might be first to decompose into the dust of future generations.  

Still looking for more? Check out the following rather exhaustive list of articles and videos summarizing recent research in California’s redwood forests. There is plenty to unpack here, but you are rewarded by hearing and learning from the experts. Following the links, join me again as I take you on more lengthy self-guided photo tours through these forests.

The first three links are to stories on our website (that now date back several years) highlighting California’s wildfires and/or redwood forests. You can also surf through our website to find multiple stories about weather patterns and climate change. Next is the list of articles and videos from the forests. The final links take you to the most recent researchers using geospatial technologies to help us understand how species are adapting to these changes.  

The Wildfires of 2020:

Forest management and research and perspectives from of one of my former students working in the redwoods:

Encountering coast redwoods with colleagues on a field trip in northwestern California:  

Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks Research Projects

Fire Reoccurrence in the Sequoias

Good Article about Sequoias and Fire, with Video, from Outdoor Magazine

Save the Redwoods League

Here is an old NPS article describing the redwoods.

NPS on the Sequoia Fires 2015-2021

NPS on Giant Sequoias and Fire

Castle Fire Research Video from Scientific American

The following three articles focus on Big Basin:

Fire recovery survey, April, 2022, written by Biologist Steve Singer

Fire Recovery in Big Basin

Save the Redwoods League Article Summarizing Recovery at Big Basin

More on California’s Coastal Redwoods:

Nature Plants Article on Regrowth in Coastal Redwoods

Indigenous tribes rekindle control burning in northwest California forests.

Northwestern California Karuk and Yurok tribes revitalize cultural burning.

If you can navigate through the commercials, “It’s History” recalls what happened to most of our coast redwoods.

Do you want to dig deeper into recent related research projects? It turns out that California has become a laboratory for using cutting-edge geospatial technologies to map our evolving plant communities and their thousands of species. Scientists and citizens are using these new technologies to track species as they adapt to climate change, fire, and a host of human impacts. Check out these links, but give yourself some time if it’s all new to you:  

The summary sent from Bill Bowen

The PNAS Article

You could start here if iNaturalist is new to you.

Evolutionary adaptation of species to climate change at the MOILAB

For you more curious and adventurous folks, the following photo essays take you through several of our redwood forests. These colorful tours represent a lifetime (decades) of adventures, field trips, and research projects in California’s redwoods. I used some of the signage in each park to take the place of captions and to give you the sense that you are walking with me. You may notice that no photos were manipulated. Here’s your chance to lose yourself and learn from the forest. Click on each page to walk through a different region.          

The post Fire in the Redwoods first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.

The development and use of affordable renewable energy and our increasingly more efficient use of resources is keeping tons of pollution out of our air, water, and soil, while saving Californians billions of dollars in the long run. Millions of people and entire ecosystems are healthier as California helps to lead the nation and the world toward a cleaner and more promising energy future. As the state’s per capita energy use and greenhouse gas production continues to decline, individuals, households, and businesses have discovered a treasure trove of long-term savings that can be routed to improve the quality of our living and working environments. But since the devil is often in the details, what are these sources of energy and how reliable are they?   

The Golden State is progressing toward a challenging goal of 100% “clean” electricity by 2045. But it is important to note that, by 2022, such “clean” sources (according to the California Energy Commission) included all renewables (39+%), large hydropower (≈11%), and what remains of nuclear (≈11%) in the state. Solar, wind, geothermal, biomass, and small hydropower are considered renewables. But there’s something missing here that I’ll call small solar power (often referred to as passive), though it isn’t small at all, since it’s working for us everywhere on every day and it is the source of almost all the energy that surrounds us. 

The energy industry often divides active solar into two categories: solar thermal and solar photovoltaic. The larger projects have generated tons of controversy. For instance, the Ivanpah solar thermal facility, with a price tag of more than $2 billion, was touted as the world’s largest. You can’t miss it if you are driving through the Mojave Desert along Interstate 15 just before crossing into Nevada. This is where once wild open desert has been covered with giant mirrors to focus intense sunlight toward 450-foot towers where high temperature steam turbines generate electricity. The electricity is sold to you through companies such as PG&E and SCE, but millions of dollars of electricity are lost through wires transmitting it to distant urban centers. Meanwhile, the desert along Interstate 10 to Arizona is being covered with photovoltaic panels on BLM land that is now known as The Riverside East Solar Energy Zone. This includes the sprawling Chuckwalla Valley, which has become a sea of solar panels that has also been advertised as the largest such project in the world. In both of these gargantuan solar energy “farms”, enormous expanses of open public desert ecosystems have been sacrificed to gather and concentrate solar energy and convert it to electricity that then must be sent out to urban areas more than 100 miles distant.  

As with other major power plants, these solar “farms” come with plenty of baggage. Habitat destruction haunts each project. Thousands of birds and other wildlife have been unintentionally killed each year by these behemoth projects. Precious groundwater supplies have been threatened. Desert dwellers and cultures that include Native Americans have also been impacted.

Desert devotees wonder why more solar panels are not being installed on top of existing warehouses, parking structures, homes, and businesses, in urban areas where the energy is being used. Even when the cost of storage batteries is added to solar installations, the payoff time is often less than 10-15 years, when consumers begin getting their solar energy for free for the life of panels that can last more than 30 years. And when homes or businesses with existing solar systems are sold, the seller gets more than their investments back from the added sales prices. Those who don’t want to pay upfront costs and take responsibility for owning and maintaining their solar systems are enticed by lucrative leasing arrangements; customers benefit from less expensive energy after paying a monthly fee to the companies who own and lease out the systems. Millions of rooftops and other urban spaces (including those for vital battery storage) are still waiting to harvest and store otherwise wasted and increasingly competitive solar energy for the taking. So why aren’t more families and businesses being encouraged to make such smart investments in otherwise underused urban spaces that can guarantee long-term profits?

You can see why the chorus of concerned citizens and energy experts advocating for more efficient, local energy production is growing louder. They argue that many of the most competitive sources of future energy can be found on our roofs and in our cities where energy is used and that destroying distant public lands and ecosystems is not sustainable. They also argue that local energy issues and problems can be more efficiently addressed with local solutions that help consumers gain control of their power sources. Similar controversies have swirled around some of the ubiquitous wind turbines that have sprouted above rural and remote regions across the state. I address some of these issues in my new book, The California Sky Watcher.   

And that leads us to the simpler and more pragmatic sustainable energy solutions sometimes known as passive solar. They often involve common-sense and time-tested planning with nature in practical ways that will allow us to save money, gain control of our energy destiny, and improve the quality of our living and working environments. Such solutions have been under our noses and calling out to us all this time.  

Many of us have already discovered the advantages of greenhouses, skylights, sunroofs, and sunrooms that allow natural sunlight in, rather than relying on artificial energy-consuming light and heat sources. And this reminds us that almost all the energy surrounding us is direct or indirect solar. It’s the energy plants use to grow and that animals store as they eat. Whether you are a vegetarian or an omnivore, you are using indirect solar energy to read this page and walk across the room. As covered in stories from my new book and on this website, solar energy creates temperature gradients that build pressure gradients that propel the wind. The sun’s energy evaporates water and lifts moisture into the air to fuel storms that provide life-giving precipitation. There it is, always surrounding us. Because there’s far more solar energy than we will ever need, we need to continue to find more efficient ways of harvesting, storing, and using it.

The simplest acts include opening windows during the day and closing them before sunset during the cool season. During warm summers, keep them open at night through early mornings and then close them when daytime temperatures rise outside. You will keep fresher, healthier air circulating during the comfortable open times and prevent sick building syndromes that can develop in closed spaces. Investments in efficient ventilation systems also cut AC costs in the long run. Plant deciduous vegetation along south-facing walls to shade the hot side of the house during summer; they will lose their leaves to allow more light in during winter. Follow the source of light and heat by keeping track of the sun’s location in your sky as it changes during the day and the seasons. Eaves and overhangs can be just the right length to shade walls and windows from high summer sun during summer afternoons and then allow direct sunlight to warm those surfaces when sun angles are lower during winter. Think of the dozens of other ways you can reconnect to the natural world in and around your own living and working spaces, relieve nature deficit disorders, reap the physical and mental health benefits, and save money in the process. After all, we are fortunate to live in plein air California, not Chicago.

The best California architects know how to design smart buildings with more sophisticated passive solar features. It might take a little more planning ahead, but such short-term investments will lead to long-term rewards that just keep on giving. Double-paned energy-efficient windows (with Energy Star ratings) and doors and improved insulation have become the standard for good reasons: these upgrades cut energy costs as they allow you to better regulate the air in your home or business when temperatures become uncomfortable outside.  Here is just one website from the U.S. Department of Energy that summarizes passive solar strategies. Here is another good introduction. You can also encourage efforts to become more efficient by supporting nonprofit organizations such as Sustainable Works. They have helped thousands of students, residents, and businesses save money while they also cut pollution and save our valuable resources.

We all use energy that can have negative impacts. But we are rediscovering how to create more comfortable, healthier living environments that will limit those impacts and save money in the long run. Sometimes it’s as simple as going back to nature. But it also requires that we work together. And in the bigger picture, that’s where Community Choice Aggregation (CCA) has made major progress across the state. At least 25 CCAs serve more than 200 communities in California that work together to pool their electricity loads, increase efficiency and grid resilience, and encourage renewable energy projects. The combination of simpler solar solutions outlined here, CCAs, and countless related efforts are moving the state toward a much greener and cleaner energy future … and proving how every Californian can make a positive difference.    

Check out these sources for more:

Community Choice Aggregation (CCA)

Inside Climate News reports on groundwater stresses from desert solar projects.

California Energy Commission

Passive Solar

A Passive Solar General Intro and Summary

NOAA Solar Calculator

Sustainable Works

California Academy of Sciences
The Academy’s Green Roof

California Air Resources Board Greenhouse Gas Inventory

US Green Building Council

One Architect’s Top 15 California Showcases

The Guardian Article

The 2023 Annual Global Climate Report summarizes how California is just another example of more general temperature trends around the globe.

The post Simpler Solar Solutions first appeared on Rediscovering the Golden State.