Black Lives Matter

Black Lives Matter. While this statement is true, I dislike it for the same reasons I dislike the term "environmentalist." Of course all human lives matter! Of course we all care about our surroundings! Everyone should embrace both ideals, making both terms completely unnecessary. Unfortunately, the need for both terms reflects the presence of--and pushes back on--people in our society who behave irrationally, and who don't care about people or the environment--or more accurately, people who do not act to change the way things are due to past practices and decisions that weren't in the best interest of people and the environment, and continue to influence our society today. And with both movements, people can be harming progress just by doing business as usual, because of a lack of education. We all must strive to educate ourselves, listen to experts, and do the best we can to help make the world a better place.

I went to the beach

Has anyone else been reading headlines and news articles as if they were from The Onion during regular times? The video of the guy cleaning his groceries is classic and will be watched in disbelief by incredulous audiences many times in future years (but honestly, it is helpful, and right now we are following some of his guidance). The Point Reyes Light's "Sheriff's Calls" is full of people reporting other people doing very normal things, like going to the beach, surfing, etc. On social media too, from people's reactions, you'd think going to the beach was somehow dangerous--for people who only are familiar with crowded Southern California beaches on summer weekends, this attitude is excusable--but the world is full of lightly-traveled beaches with few virus-carrying humans where it is perfectly safe to be (and probably one of the safer places to be in the spectrum of risk).

So last weekend I went to the beach (yes, this used to be normal and acceptable behavior). And I wasn't going to let anything stop me--not the dirty dishes (partially dealt with), screaming kids (handled), lovely wife, cute cats, social media shamers, poorly-worded closure signs, or lingering symptoms. I'm so done with being sick. After seven months of sickness and disease (with two kids in two schools we get plenty of colds), and having had the latest cough for over five weeks, I was finally feeling well enough for a big day of exercise. I needed to get out.

By the way, my SARS-CoV-2 antibody test came back negative. So I had the flu shot last fall, plus I probably had the flu or something similar twice since January. But I digress.

The bike ride from San Geronimo to Limantour Beach is about 20 miles (40 miles round trip). After passing through the Samuel P. Taylor State Park campground on the Cross Marin Trail, I was catching up to three cyclists ahead of me. Not really wanting to deal with passing, I followed at a slower pace, then at Platform Bridge they disappeared and I merged onto Sir Francis Drake Blvd adjacent to another cyclist. I tried to get ahead but couldn't, then fell back, then passed, then was passed. This was my first time over Olema Hill on a bike, and it was hard to find my pace while at the same time trying to be adequately physically-distanced ahead of or behind the other rider, who was much older but frequently rides long distances. He disappeared ahead before I reached the top.

Coronavirus Pandemic Misinformation and Mislabeling and Musings

First of all, I want to start by expressing gratitude and appreciation for everyone that is leading us through these uncharted waters. Nevertheless, there is always room for improvement and better ideas, and I may have a few here. Or maybe not.

Social Distancing
"Social distancing" has been with us for over two months, but it is an inaccurate term. In the age of social media, "Physical distancing" is much more accurate and it is nice to see many people and agencies switching to this term.

Shelter-in-place
It has been six weeks since the poorly-named "Shelter-in-place" orders were issued. The consequences of the misnomer "Shelter-in-place" really hit me when I spoke to my mom one day, and she told me she was afraid to go outside in her yard, and that the Coronavirus was washing up on the beaches from the ocean. Now, the latter belief was a result of a single person's ill-chosen remarks that were widely reported in the Southern California media and quickly retracted. But the former--fear of going in the yard--was certainly related to the "Shelter-in-place" terminology, since "stay home" does not equal "stay inside," but "shelter" implies staying inside.

This is a poor name because it is inaccurate--depending on where you live, it is generally safer outdoors than indoors. The purpose of the shelter orders is to keep us away from each other, not to keep us away from the outdoors.

Your chances of catching the virus when you go outdoors is extremely low, provided you’re keeping a safe distance from others. “Outdoors is safe…unless if we are in a very crowded place — which is not allowed now anyway. It is safe to go for a walk and jog and not to worry about the virus in the air..." Lidia Morawska, professor and director of the International Laboratory for Air Quality and Health at Queensland University of Technology in Brisbane, Australia.
NYT 4/17/20

Paired-watershed Study

A paired-watershed study is conducted by using two similar watersheds and evaluating them for differences. One watershed is a control and the other has a management change applied to it. You can then measure the differences in flow and water quality exiting the watersheds, and have a pretty good idea of how the management change influenced any flow or water quality changes. Or in this case, with no management applied, the differences reveal natural differences in the watershed.

February 2020 was the driest February since 1864 in San Francisco. No rain fell there, as well as here in San Geronimo Valley (except for one weather station (WDAC1) that picked up 0.01 inches of precipitation on February 24th). December precipitation was 200% of average, however January was only 37% of average. February was 0% of average.

San Geronimo Creek peaked at a respectable 210 cfs in December--the highest December flow in 3 years, but less than 1/10th the peak flow in 2016--a good situation for Coho salmon redds, which got plenty of water but wouldn't have been washed out by flows high enough to scour the streambed. Since there weren't that many redds this year, a higher survival rate would be nice. January's peak flow was 70 cfs. February's was 6 cfs--perhaps the lowest February flow since 1864.

A 30-year History of My Mountain Bikes

My mountain bike is twenty-eight years old this year--I bought it in November 1992 for $389. It is a 21-inch Giant Iguana, a little on the tall side for me, but that is what they had in stock at South Bay Bicycles in Torrance, CA (on Sepulveda Blvd), near where I grew up. It was the first--and last--bicycle I bought for myself.

My parents had bought me bikes before--a new bike was an exciting birthday or Christmas present. I had been riding my brown curved-handlebar ten-speed the three-and-a-half miles to high school every day, often followed by another mile-and-a-half ride to the beach after school, when my parents bought me my first mountain bike. It was a light blue low-end mountain bike with slightly curved handlebars. All the "real" mountain bikes had straight handlebars, but it was better than a ten-speed for dirt riding.

Nobody walks to... San Mateo County Parks???

Cities are for people. Unfortunately, they are rarely designed for people. It is usually apparent that those in power--and those designing cities and putting up signs--are not thinking like pedestrians. No wonder it is hard to get people out of their cars--people keep designing places for cars and not people. See my previous post about this.

On Tuesday, I walked from Emeryville to Oakland. As I approached a bridge that clearly had no sidewalks, I began looking for alternatives. The expected "no pedestrians on bridge" sign was very clear, and included an apparently helpful "use walkway" directive. As I got to the sign, there was no indication of what direction the "walkway" would be in, and no obvious place for pedestrians to go. So I walked across the parking lot of a private business, and reached another street that had sidewalks, although not exactly going in the direction I was hoping for. After going down that street a ways, I crossed it, and walked on the other side, eventually reaching a walkway that ramped up next to a wall and dead-ended at a locked maintenance entrance of a large building. No signs had indicated this sidewalk would dead-end at a private business with a locked door. I guess no one unfamiliar with the area ever walks there. I walked back to the intersection, went around the wall into the street, and walked down the bike lane for a block or so until a sidewalk resumed.

On Thursday, I was part of a group of young children, parents, and teachers that were walking from Redwood Glen Camp in Loma Mar to Memorial Park. We wanted to walk to the Mt. Ellen Trail through a campground that was closed for repaving, but since many in the group had walked through the campground the previous day, and since we weren't trying to camp there, we assumed it was okay as long as we stayed out of the way of the workers and off the fresh asphalt.

A short walk on a trail past the closed sign led us to a campground loop, with a San Mateo County Park Ranger vehicle parked on the freshly paved asphalt at a water treatment building. Our leader walked over to the ranger, telling him we were trying to get to the Mt. Ellen Trail. The ranger, clearly not happy that we were there, told us that closed means closed, and began to say "You need to get back in your cars and..."

LVVFD Calls: My first fire call

I finally let my EMT certification expire last year after 20 years. In honor of that, and my 15 years on the Lee Vining Volunteer Fire Department (1995-2011), I'm going to blog about some old fire calls. Being on a volunteer fire department was one of the most rewarding things I've ever done--I highly recommend it if you ever get the chance. I wanted to write a book, but someone already wrote an excellent book that a few of us passed around when it came out (Population 485: Meeting Your Neighbors One Siren at a Time). Some names may be changed.

December 27, 1995, just after 4pm

I was sleeping. I was tired after walking in the snow down to Mono Lake with my sister, and we had just finished lunch and the woodstove had made it pretty warm inside the Mono Lake Committee intern house.

The siren had reached its peak by the time I roused myself and got moving. I grabbed my jacket and put on my shoes, and went into the garage to get my bike. By now the siren was wailing for a second time, and it was quiet when I got out the door and rode up the driveway. I rode into the fire station just as Stewart was firing up the number 3 "squad" fire truck. He was the only one there. I leaned my bike against the wall, walked over to Stewart, and yelled "what's up?" over the roar of the engine.

He asked if I saw anyone else coming, and I said no. He yelled to me to get my turnouts on. I ran over to the wall where the turnouts were hung, took off my jacket and shoes, and put on my boots and pants. I grabbed my jacket and helmet and went over to the passenger side of the truck. By now Grif had arrived, and asked Stewart if he knew how to pump water with this truck. Stewart replied no. They grabbed their turnouts, Grif drove, and I was in the middle.

Grif had our lights flashing as we headed north out of Lee Vining on Highway 395. Whenever he came up behind a car, he gave the siren a short wail. We were providing assistance to Mineral County, Nevada, on a car fire 9 miles into Nevada on Highway 167. Apparently one other firefighter had already headed out ahead of us in his own car.

Stewart solemnly said, "I hope we don't have any crispy critters. I don't need to see any more of those." It seemed slightly morbid, and at the same time slightly funny. But more morbid than funny. I later learned that Lee Vining Fire had recently lost one of its own in a car fire on Highway 120 East.

Grif used the radio to ask that we be notified if we weren't needed, since it was such a long drive. The firefighter ahead of us also said he'd let us know once he got there.

Once we reached Highway 167, the dispatcher told us to cancel our response. We turned around, and wondered why we were called, since we were just as far (if not slightly farther) than Hawthorne, Nevada. They must have been short-staffed too.

Grif talked about other car fires, and about how fast they happen and how if you aren't near a town, your car will probably be totaled. I resolved to buy a fire extinguisher for my car. It would suck to be trapped in a car and be burned alive, but with a fire extinguisher you could at least keep yourself and the inside of the car from burning.

We got back to the station, and Grif showed Stewart how to pump from that truck. Stewart told me about the last car fire they had--a firefighter died when his van burned up. I returned home, and was glad that I had joined the fire department, since it looked like I was needed. Only four people showed up. And this was the only day this week that I was going to be home.

Update: as of 6/7/24 I'm removing the rest of the fire calls from this blog. They are sort of an overpowering tangent from what this blog is about and take a while to scroll past. And this way AI can't get them.