I thought some of you would enjoy this short read on the Sierra Nevada range from my mentor's point of view. Joe Medeiros has taken literally thousands of students into the Sierra Nevada and many of them, like myself, were forever changed by the experience. Since I cannot take you with me on one of the journeys I can let Joe tell you one of his stories... The Power of Trees ~ Joe Medeiros A slideshow of a week-long trip with Joe and fellow students into the Sierra Nevada and White Mountains (right-click and save as) - Excerpts: The Power of Spirits Reuniting When spirits reunite, there are powerful forces that converge. The past and even the future are re-presented at the same moment. While the history of each species lies, like a frozen record, in the tightly coiled archives of the nucleus, the ability to adapt to the future lies at the very same locus, quietly awaiting the stimulus that will awaken its purpose and potential for change. The power of trees beckons spirits upon which its life is dependent, as well as those for whom its own body will provide nourishment—roots and fungi, trunks and beetles, twigs and caterpillars, needles and grouse. Ten thousand years of our star's powerful rays lie quiescent, fixed in the rigid strands of wood and flexible fibers of leaves—in the ever-so-slow dance of transformation—from burning light to sweet sugars—from sugars to fibers of cellulose—from fibers to the bodies of creatures—from bodies to motion—and from motion to the long infrared rays that will wander without direction or apparent purpose into chaos, to which all life is inevitably destined. If one is willing—and receptive—locating forces such as these require only a walk in the woods or a stroll along the beach. With or without vision, eyes open or closed, such forces draw us to them like iron filings to a magnetic field. For some the calling comes from crashing waves on the coast. For others, it's the celebratory calls of sandhill cranes flying three miles above as they pass overhead to their wintering grounds. For me it’s the aura of wisdom—and time—and tolerance—and patience I find in old trees. It's the power of these trees that anchors me firmly to my one and only worldly home—and my special place, the Sierra. Sierra Juniper "One juniper grove stands out in my mind—without doubt my very favorite grove. It hovers in Yosemite, overlooking Washburn Lake and the Lyell Fork of the Merced River. On a lofty perch of massive intrusive rock, this collection of robust monarchs seems to radiate an energy that has beckoned us each time we've wandered into that little-visited corner of the Yosemite backcountry. In the warm summer afternoons this grove basks in the setting sun, unobstructed by other kindred mountain dwellers, where it begins to glow in the low-angle light—transforming from the crisp silhouettes of the morning cold into softer and inviting arboreal spirits—a fire that draws one to it, but lacking the pain of flame. Their shaggy brown overcoats change color, warming and illuminating, glowing an orangey-cinnamon that appears different than any other rival tree, even the sequoia. Their radiance calls us closer and invites us to lean against them to share the sundown. I've often wondered if this time of day is as spiritual and as pleasurable for them as it is for us. Do they find any comfort in the presence of Man? Nevertheless, we feel the grove's energy—unexplainable, but unmistakable. It feels different sitting there than when in camp. Something calls us to stay here longer—and saddens us when be bid farewell to the grove. It's more than simply a warming feeling; it's an almost indescribable sensation of strength, truth, acceptance, welcome, and understanding. It is the palpable presence of wildness that I think Thoreau was trying to explain. Memories of this grove are etched in our recollections, not only as three-dimensional "pictures,†but with an added dimension of deep sensation—gratitude for our acquaintance—enriched by the knowledge that these spirits were here long before us—and will be here still long after us." Joe Medeiros Joe Medeiros has hiked and studied in the Sierra for more than 35 years, lead countless trips of students and mountain enthusiasts, served as a National Park Ranger at Devils Postpile National Monument in the southern Sierra Nevada, and loves to share photographs and stories about his favorite place in the world. Medeiros recently retired from teaching biology at Sierra College, and was coordinator of the college’s Interdisciplinary Program and many campus events, such as Earth Day. Joe has been honored as Sierra College Teacher of the Year in 1999, 2003, 2005 and 2008. He also taught for many years at Modesto Community College and was Director of the college’s outstanding Great Valley Museum.
Go hug a tree and swim in the ocean. I heard a doctorate scientest on Nova say the majority of the breathable oxygen in the air is produced in our oceans. But the majority of the pollution, or carbon footprint, we produce is affecting the atmosphere above the oceans faster than below the oceans. So, while we may be destroying the environment we live in, we are not reducing our oxygen that much.
Chris Field reported in Science in 1998 that marine and terrestrial NPP were close to equal. But since then the oceanographers are finding lots of smaller plankton, so maybe the ocean has taken the lead now? Actually, I did like the story and sent a link along to a friend who has published on spirituality of trees and such.
