Remnants of Natural California: Canyons of the Foothills

Let's face it, when most people go places they assume that the fields and patchy woodlands they see outside of the urban areas are pretty much reduced versions of what used to be there before human development radically altered them.  For example, one might see a lovely pastoral scene of a grassy heath, rather rocky hills and low mountains dotted with sheep, and the odd stream running through a shrubby dell and figure that to be Ireland primordial.  Likewise, your average sunbather on Miami Beach might understand that the resort hotels behind them were not always there, but surely the beach extended further and lush coconut palms were backed by an inviting tropical forest.  In truth, nearly all of Ireland was once temperate rain-forest, and Miami Beach was sandy in parts, but in most others covered in stands of Red mangroves backed by limestone outcrops that were topped by forests of Slash pine.

Now, for the most part, rural areas will often give you at least some of what used to be there.  Native trees and flowers will usually be present, although, as our above examples can illustrate, the type of ecosystem that once predominated might not be so clear at first glance.  In some cases, invasive species, urban and agricultural development, and yes, climate change, have altered the local life and landscape to the extent that the natural and native have long since been extirpated.  Case in point: Southern California.

Look at that map.  There are roughly forty some miles from coast to solid teal line in which millions of people are crammed and vast areas are paved over entirely.  That is, of course, where you have suitable land to build on, which would not include much of the mountain areas past the dotted teal line.  The mountains, you see, get cold and snowy in the winter (and who would want that), and they also have the little problems of mudslides, wildfires, and just happen to lie along the San Andreas Fault.  Up past the teal line would be the deserts, which are suitable for building, but tend to get a little hot and cause the average water bill to get a bit insane.  People still live up there, of course, and have for as long as humans have been in the region, but ever since Jedediah Smith and his mountain men came through the desert (at the wrong time of the year), most people of this strange age prefer to live in that coastal zone.  Jed and his men, in fact, thought it was paradise.  This must have been before the traffic, smog, and celebrities.

Most books and articles on the natural life of the region will tell you that in the basins and valleys, we once had lush grasslands dotted in oaks, yuccas, cacti, and glorious displays of wildflowers, such as the California Poppy (which no photograph can ever do justice of).

They will also state, however, that we are really not sure.  Fossil records for the area are sketchy and still being dug up, the historical record is surprisingly vague on the matter, and most native species, especially of the bunch grasses, have long since been replaced.  In contrast, the foothills (approximately where the dotted line is) look the way they did back in the day when Franciscan missionaries and explorers such as Mr. Smith were documenting the region.  Wildfires, for which the area is famous, have kept things that way, preventing development and performing the regenerative role they have for ages.  You see, they are hard to stop because they are extremely hot.  For one, everything is usually bone dry, and that matter is not helped by winds blowing down from that hot, dry desert.  For another, most of the plants there actually have chemicals in them that encourage igniting!  This seems to be counter productive until one understands that a good, clean, fast burn will make the fire move on instead of take time to burn down to the roots.  Now, this is not to say that an inferno rages here every year.  Naturally occurring wildfires are somewhat infrequent here, with stand replacements happening roughly every 30-50 years, depending on location.  When they do burn, though, they really burn.

So, let's take a look at our tinder box paradise, shall we?  The red line on the map above is where we will be going in part two, a place called Lytel Creek canyon.  The canyon forms the boundary line between San Bernardino and Angeles National Forests.  The mouth of the canyon, at I-15, rises out of Cucamonga Valley at about 2,000 feet and continues into the San Gabriel mountains roughly parallel to Cajon Pass.

A preview, then, of a truly remarkable forest that is surrounded by desert, the most developed land in the world, and is forced to adapt to less than 20 inches of rain a year, and intense wildfires that can burn everything to the ground.