A Majestic View of the San Gabriel Mountains

You know how some people live in New York City and yet have never been to the Statue of Liberty or even to Time's Square?  Well, I imagine there are people who live in Los Angeles and environs who never have been to their nearby mountains, or even give them more than a passing glance on any given day.

8,859 foot Cucamonga Peak, sitting above a low 1,200 foot vantage point in Rancho Cucamonga, California.

Such an amazing backdrop.  Imagine waking up to this in your front windows every morning!

North America's Rocky and Piney Forests

Yesterday's post was about California Redbuds in their natural setting, the lower elevations of the western slope of the Sierra Nevada.  Part of the commentary included a remark on how relatively lush broadleaved forests, deciduous and evergreen both, are relatively rare and tend to stand out in contrast with the rest of the arid, rocky west that tends to be dominated by conifers.  While there are notable exceptions outside of the wetter parts of the west coast of the continent on the western slopes of the coastal ranges and the Cascade-Sierra chains, much of the low and middle elevation (the higher elevations tend to be a bit more wet and full of spruces and firs and take on a different atmosphere altogether) forests and woodlands are relatively open pine forests.  In some areas, such as here on the slopes of Mt. San Jacinto, rocks, pines, and a bit of open sky are what one will tend to find in the way of forests.

In others, the canopy does tend to get a bit more compact, such as here in central Utah.

This sort of forest can also be found in eastern North America, particularly on the Canadian Shield where Jack and Eastern White Pines manage to creep into any available hole in the rock and form soil pockets over the centuries together with the lichens and mosses.

Found at  Global Forest Watch Canada, an excellent site on the life of Canadian forests!  This picture was taken at Killarney Provincial Park, one of the loveliest parts of Ontario.  

This sort of soil formation is a very primal process.  One tends to think of soil merely as fertile dirt, but the truth of the matter is that it is broken up rocks and minerals often rich in organic materials of ages of decayed plant life and bacteria that pretty much make soil a place to live.  In essence, when we see these forests, we are looking at a plant succession process that often takes place over a very, very long time.  We are often fortunate to have some of them intact, if not entirely virgin, because the terrain engendered difficulties on the part of those seeking to extract the natural resources found there.  At the same time as these "last forests" were being considered for the saw and plow, in fact, the conservationist movement was heating up and usually targeted such areas for preservation as the Sierras, the Rocky Mountains, and parts of the Appalachians, Laurentians, and Algonquins, to be later joined by efforts down in Mexico's Sierra Madres.  The great rocky forests of California and Ontario were the first to be saved back in the 1890's.  Perhaps we got so emotional over such landscapes not because they were still relatively untouched by the hand of humans, but because they have a look and feel of something remote and almost savage, places where we explore and play but have difficulty setting land to the plow or settling down.  Heck, the forest really has to work overtime here just to raise the canopy!

The Mojave Desert From the West

North America, for the most part, is a very dry continent.  While there are places such as south eastern Mexico, southern Florida, and the Pacific coast stretching from Alaska to northern California that do receive a regular abundance of precipitation, days can go by without a cloud passing overhead, and drought can affect much of the land.  In the west, extremely tall mountain ranges running from north to south catch any moisture that would manage to evaporate from the cool Pacific ocean, leaving a vast tract of desert from British Columbia all the way down to central Mexico on the leeward slopes.  The contrast between the land blessed by rain and starved of it is always rather dramatic.

Here we see the Mojave desert as viewed from the San Bernardino mountains.   The forested slopes sharply give way to the desert scrub of the lower elevations at around 4,500 feet above sea level.  The land can sometimes be so parched that high winds can throw around the sands in a veil of dust that can cut visibility to almost nothing.  Further north, in the Sierra Nevadas, the western slopes receive an abundance of snow which enables the growth of the mighty sequoia forests.

On the other side of these mountains?  The northern, and driest parts of the Mojave desert, including Death Valley, which receives less than 2 inches of rain per year.  The Mojave is framed by remarkable mountains to the west and east, and by two other deserts to the north and south.  Like the Great Plains, it keeps the different parts of North America from spreading into one another.  In this case, California remains isolated from the mountain forests of the interior west, one of the many reasons why the great trees of her mountains and coasts no longer exist beyond her fortunate lands.  While it does serve as gatekeeper, the Mojave also benefits from the biodiversity found on its edges, and like the Plains, is an interesting expanse to look out on. The open, seemingly barren lands, rather than deterring explorers, have thus long since invited them closer.

Urban Backdrops in Southern California: A Clear View of the San Gabriel Mountains

One of the nice features of city living in much of the west, especially California, is that mountain views are never far away.  When the skies are clear, many of the inland cities surrounding Los Angeles have exquisite views of the nearby transverse ranges.  Closer to the Pacific, the mountains drop off in height compared to slightly further inland, but they are still quite a wonderful background to look out on from a porch.

Now I admit, this view is cheating a little bit.  The foothill freeway (California 210) is a bit elevated and open, but many of the communities near the foothills tend to have excellent views for the most part.  The street below, for instance, is developed and well-planted (including that rather interesting cellular tower), and  yet the San Gabriels still manage to dominate the sky.

Looking north from Monrovia, California

The mountains, in addition to being so aesthetically pleasing, provide a nearby refuge from the heat and artificial landscape of the valley floors.  While they might not look very lush from the valleys below, they are densely vegetated ecosystems of chaparral, and higher up, pine and oak forests.  There are canyon roads which can take valley dwellers up into this different world of lower temperatures (including winter snow), cleaner air, and a more natural looking landscape.  Sadly, the views from the higher ground are no better than those from the valley if smog happens to be thick (hence the title of the post).  In former times, the view below might have included a bit of the Pacific Ocean and the coastal ranges heading towards Mexico.

Mt. Baldy road, near the very top

Still, they are a lovely slice of the natural world sitting among a densely-developed urban area.

Pinus Lambertiana

Most cities in North America are fortunate to still have something wild in the lands surrounding them, even if they are not nearly as dramatic as this.  The San Gabriels have been recognized as such a treasure from the earliest days of conservation in the United States, making this particular urban backdrop something of a model for urban greenbelts and wildland preservation.

Because California is News...

Well, at least on the blogs I frequent anyway.  In case you have not noticed by now, while I do try to cover North America from perspectives cultural as well as natural, I really have a passion for introducing my readers to "how things used to look", or at least "how we think things used to look".  Hence, when I come across a picture of a city street, I usually grimace, then purse my lips a little bit, walk around the room saying "no" a few times, and then push past the picture for something more wild in the albums of my adventures.  That said, places like southern California are extensively urbanized, and such places are part of what this blog covers.  Granted, much of urban southern California is actually on the Pacific plate, and thus is technically not a part of North America.  Oh come on, like this comes as a shock to anyone.

Ahem, anyway, this is the lovely city of Fontana, sprawling over 42 square miles and home to nearly 200,000 people.  The city started out being developed the way much of the eastern part of the greater Los Angeles area did, as orchard and vine land.  The city was settled by Italian immigrants, who mainly either went into agriculture, working the orchards and vines, or worked for Kaiser steel, which later expanded into the health care industry to become Kaiser Pemanente.  The city experienced long periods of prosperity, which has manifested physically in the many fine civic structures throughout the main thoroughfare.  Route 66 ran through here, and has been the focus of an ongoing battle between the forces of modernity and preservation.  Some of the old route still exists in the form of street signs and historic buildings that have managed to defy what the municipal government touts as road improvements.  One such place is Bono's Restaurant, which is undergoing renovations at the present time.  You can still pull up and see its "historic orange" though.

Southern California, back when it was more orchard than urban, used to be dotted with such road side fruit stands.  Believe me when I say that nothing quite tastes like a glass of orange juice freshly squeezed from the fruit right off the tree.  Sadly, there are very few places in Fontana, or any area of the greater L.A. area, where one can still find any actual orchards.  Fortunately, backyards still have trees in them.

So anyway, what does Fontana look like these days?  With the exception of some of the historic downtown, pretty average, or what one would expect from a suburban city.

The locals claim that the city is downtrodden and crime-ridden, but I remain skeptical that much crime exists in a city that has an average four minute response time to 911 calls, and sends in not only the usual responding units, but a police helicopter or two as well.  The streets are usually immaculate looking, and most people groom their lawns to golf-course standards.  Roughly half the residents are descended from the Italian immigrants, and the other half are largely Hispanic.  The end result is that anyone longing for Italian food in southern California needs but come around these parts, while they can also find some really good burritos.

In terms of climate, location, and scenery, Fontana is a good base from which to discover a little bit of everything the region has to offer.

While it is part of the greener and rainier coastal basins, the city does sit at the foot of Cajon Pass, and thus receives strong winds from the Mojave desert, which can heat things up to as much as 120 degrees in the summer, although the 90's are far more common.  Winter temperatures average in the upper 60's, with occasional night-time frosts.  The city is dwarfed by the surrounding mountain ranges, especially the San Gabriels, which lie to the north.

All in all, Fontana is an "average" city in southern California, albeit one with a bit more history than just "added as part of sprawl during 1960's-1980's".

Mount San Jacinto from the Desert

To look down on the viewing point, go here.

One of the loveliest sights in California (or the world, according to John Muir) has to be San Jacinto Peak.  It is one of the most prominent peaks in the United States, standing over 8,000 feet above its base.  Like the rest of its range, the peak blocks Pacific moisture from reaching into the deserts to the east, and the summit is often obscured by clouds that give up and rain down on the top.

The dramatic increase in elevation, and the convergence of three distinct weather regions results in environments ranging from chaparral to pine forests to palm oases being found within miles of one another.  The mountain also overlooks San Gorgonio Pass, which links the desert with the interior coastal basins of the greater Los Angeles area.  Semi-humid air, usually in the 80's or 90's, meets the extremely dry 110's of the desert, the result of which is usually a near permanent strong wind blowing through.

Wind farms have been developed here since the 1980's, and they are extremely noticeable.  Some consider them to be an eyesore, while others hail them as a responsible use of natural resources.  I tend to view them as signs of the potency of nature; power that we can harness, but that we should always be respectful of.  The pass itself is a wonderful place where nearly all of what southern California has to offer comes together. Starting in the desert, one can drive west and watch as the vegetation suddenly changes, grows more dense, and the air cools off by as much as thirty or more degrees in the space of a mile or two.  The surrounding mountains are just as dramatic.  In the winter, they are capped in snow, often only on one side.  I was fortunate enough to be on a flight from Dallas to Ontario, California that took a flight path directly over the peak.  I was on the side of the plane that faced north, and thus toward the San Bernardino mountains which wall off the north side of the pass.

The transition from the dry interior side of the mountains to the moisture trapping western side can clearly be seen in this photograph (I need to learn how to take better aerial shots).  Also seen are the forests, dense pine lands higher on the mountains, gradually diminished with lower elevation and becoming the seemingly browner looking chaparral further below.  On the right of the picture, the lower right, being the Sonoran desert, merges with the upper right, the Mojave desert.  From the top of San Jacinto Peak, the view is apparently just as amazing, though the San Gabirels, seen here from 10,000 feet higher, are on a nearly level plane with the vantage point.

For better reference, the viewpoint of the first picture is the green arrows, the second would be the red arrows, and the third would be the yellow.  The pass itself is the corridor that runs between the ranges, pretty much centered by the red arrows.

The pass has historically been used by migrating peoples, including the band of immigrants led by Juan Bautista de Anza, who were sent by Mexico to establish colonies along the coast and to secure the lands are San Francisco.  His passage is commemorated and able to be traversed today by those following the Juan Bautista de Anza National Historic Trail.  Later on, explorers, traders, and interstate 10 would find a simple route through here.  San Jacinto Peak continues to stand sentinel over millions of travelers passing over its ankle every year.