Once again, here’s some nature content.
Last week, I was lucky enough to get a tour of Big Basin Redwoods State Park, which has not yet reopened to the public. Originally created in 1902, Big Basin is the oldest State Park in California, and in many ways it’s the flagship State Park. Most of the park burned last year during the CZU Complex Fires, which were just a few of the thousands of wildfires ignited by lightning strokes in August 2020. One year on, the forest is recovering beautifully.
The dominant species in this forest evolved with fire. Redwoods regrow along their trunks and also sprout clonal trunks from their bases. Douglas firs only regrow from the base. In both cases, the root system below ground is still healthy and that of a mature tree, so the new sprouts grow very quickly! These year-old trees are already taller than a person, in many cases.
There’s something incredibly moving about a bright green stalk emerging from charred bark. If only humanity were so resilient.
Species of the understory are also coming back. We saw lush huckleberry bushes amid the ruins, and moss and leafletted everywhere.
The worst parts of the cleanup were where buildings collapsed. Restoration workers had to dig out the soil and haul it away until they reached uncontaminated ground. Pollutants from paint, plumbing, and plastic (among other things) leached deep into the soil, leaving deep pits where bathrooms or visitor centers used to be.
State officials hope to reopen Big Basin State Park to hikers sometime next year, but we should let the park rebuild at its own pace. All of the human infrastructure was destroyed, and thousands of acres of redwoods and Douglas firs were scorched.
The cleanup has been expensive and time-intensive, but only a few hundred feet on each side of the roads have been deemed safe for people. Most wildlife has not yet returned–we heard a woodpecker and some insects, but little else. Though the underbrush was obliterated, last winter there weren’t horrific floods (possibly due to the drought). Still, flooding is a very real risk going forward.
Though the park won’t be rebuilt the same way it was before the fire, we have a rare chance to watch a forest regrow.
Still, the forest was eery. Forests aren’t meant to feel so empty or quiet. It was a good 15 degrees F hotter than I expected for a forest in the Santa Cruz Mountains, and the air smelled dustier and less alive than usual.
I was able to go on this tour because my employer, Pachama, helped fundraise for the emergency response after the fire last year. Our CEO’s house was burned down in the same fire that claimed Big Basin Redwoods State Park. The Sempervirens Fund organized a quick infusion of nimble funding that allowed the State Park System to start cleanup before the state allocated more funds. Even with an infusion of millions of dollars, the response will be ongoing for decades.
Some people will mourn the campgrounds and visitor center that won’t ever be rebuilt, but it’s important to recognize that they shouldn’t be. They shouldn’t have ever been where they were. This forest, like so much of California, evolved for fire. No matter how we manage our forests, fires will come. Climate change will make it worse. We shouldn’t try to defend human structures deep in a flammable forest; we should just enjoy the forest while it stands and be ready to evacuate when it burns. The visitor center should be at the park entrance or in the nearby town of Boulder Creek. Our tour guides expressed eagerness to rebuild in a more sustainable way.
As citizens, we have to recognize that part of adapting to climate change is accepting what our ancestors did wrong when they built out our parks, like ignoring indigenous knowledge and trying to keep fire-adapted ecosystems from ever burning. We’re finally starting to follow ancient guidance. One of the leaders on our tour was a representative from the Amah Mutsun people, who have begun working with CalFire to better manage their lands (north of the Santa Cruz Mountains).
Though Big Basin has employed controlled burns since the 1970s, it’s been hard for burn bosses to get permits and they have been required to accept personal liability for any destruction. This is a necessary public safety procedure, and until recently it’s been vilified! Hopefully, we will learn from the catastrophic burns that occur without preemptive fire management and begin to take better care of our forests–which means burning when conditions are safe.
In short: the forests will survive. We need to be patient and creative with our reconstruction so we don’t repeat the mistakes of the past.
