Tracks of Rain

 Last week, on the afternoon of Monday July 13th, 2026, I was hiking up the French Ranch Fire Road and saw rainprints in the road. It was 90 degrees, humidity was 30-40%, and it was cloudy and muggy. The next day San Geronimo's temperature would exceed 100 degrees for the first time in July (since I began keeping records in 2012).

But despite the hot dry air, there was evidence that raindrops had reached the ground that day. The rain prints were little pinpoints in the dust--some even looked like they were still wet, although I think that may have been just shadowing.

Heavy equipment has been working on the ridge daily, incrementally moving east, turning the fire road into a smooth superhighway for runoff to accumulate in new wider carefully-graded swales that drain off the road. It was hard to see this done to Willis Evans Canyon a few years ago, but it grew back and the road edges were once again covered in leaves and needles. Vehicles usually don't drive here, but the road seems like it is being readied for heavy traffic and heavy rain. Perhaps the Super El Nino has motivated the work.

Before road maintenance

After road maintenance

Because of the daily earth moving work on the ridge, trucks had driven down the access road since the rain. There were no rainprints in the tire tracks.

This meant that the rain had fallen earlier, before the workers headed home in the afternoon. Humidity peaked around sunrise and again around noon... both plausible times for the rain to have fallen to the ground.

The following Monday--yesterday--rain fell in Inverness. Today, Tropical Storm Elida, 500 miles southwest of Monterey, could bring more tracks of rain.

Come to think of it, there was a water truck working up on the ridge. It could have come down to refill, and splashed drops of water onto the road as it returned up the steep grade. Maybe it wasn't rain at all.

Tragedy

Growing up, I remember my dad telling the tale of how his aunt lost her arm in a nighttime train wreck. It was such a wild story, but without a lot of details, so my imagination filled them in. We still had her prosthetic arm in the attic or the garage--which was always kind of creepy. I inherited that arm and still have it stored in my garage... it seems like it could be useful as either a valuable historical artifact or a creepy Halloween prop. So far I've resisted putting it out on Halloween. My daughter says I should make it look like it is coming out of the ground.

Well, the scales just tipped toward the historical, when I found an old newspaper clipping:

When I saw this, I knew that despite the misspelled name, it was about "Mrs. Meek," my dad's aunt. I was so excited to learn the July 13, 1913 date of the "Vineyard train wreck" and the rest of the story. My entire life, I had always wondered about it--where, when, why, how--and I could finally learn what happened. And interestingly, to those involved, I'm sure it reinforced the concept of the number 13 being unlucky.

Succession

Primary succession is the process of lichen, algae, fungi, and eventually plants establishing themselves on new ground without soil. This could be a lava flow, or an area uncovered by a retreating glacier. Secondary succession is the process of plants re-establishing in areas already covered by soil, for example after a fire.

Riverine succession sometimes is primary (on large deep barren sandbar deposits) or secondary (where sediment deposition is shallow or doesn't bury pre-existing vegetation.

Primary succession usually takes longer than secondary succession.

Pushing back on Yosemite's new $100 fee for non-residents

I went to Yosemite Valley on Sunday. At the entrance station, I was asked if I and everyone in my car was a citizen or legal resident. I answered in the affirmative, but was struck by how awful it felt to be asked that question and have to answer in order to enter Yosemite National Park. It felt like the MAGA police state intruding on our beloved National Parks with its ugly, cruel, unwelcoming policies. People seeking refuge in nature should have as few barriers as possible preventing them from accessing that solace.

So I told the ranger it was a terrible question to ask. She said she had to ask it. I responded that as a citizen, I had to tell her that it was a terrible question to have to ask. She recommended that I speak to her higher ups including the Park Superintendent. So I sent a message through Yosemite's Contact Us form.

My message:

Dear Superintendent: When I entered Yosemite on Sunday, I was asked if I and everyone in my car was a citizen or legal resident. To be asked this question in the United States of America when entering a National Park felt offensive and disrespectful to our country's long-held values and traditions. In addition, the new $100 fee is regressive, targeting those who might least be able to afford it. I encourage you to remove this unwelcoming fee targeting visitors to our country and replace it with a $1 million fee for billionaires to enter the park. If I was asked if I was a billionaire, it would not have been offensive, since if I were one I would be happy to contribute less than a tenth of a percent of my wealth (which is comparable to the current policy since $100 represents a tenth of a percent of a $100,000 annual income). Changing this policy as I suggest would make our National Parks more inclusive and welcoming to all visitors and would raise far more funds in support of the Parks. Thank you for considering my comments and being welcoming to all visitors to our National Parks, no matter where they come from.

I encourage others to express similar sentiments. And I encourage National Park Service employees to resist authoritarian impulsive unwelcoming policies of the current lawless presidential administration any way they feel they can, until the day we have a Constitution and law-respecting president return to the White House.

Catching up on the February Storms

 It doesn't feel right to let this rainy season fade away without writing about the February storms--especially when they included a rare thunderstorm, and some were bigger than the December storm, which I did write about. So here it is May, the fourth average or wetter-than-average year in a row, and while the soil is already cracking due to the dry spring (although March was average with 6.3" of rain), things look good: the grasses are tall and there is still much green, and the now-disappearing flowers have been wonderful. And a pleasant surprise--the invasive deeply evil (in California, I'm sure it is nice where it is native) star thistle seems to be crowded out by other plants in many areas.

2025 water year total to-date is 47.87" as of the end of May.

Let's turn the clock back to February.

West of Huntoon Spring

"Of what avail are forty freedoms without a blank spot on the map?" --Aldo Leopold

There is a USGS topographic map in the 7.5-minute series called “West of Huntoon Spring.” Maps in this series are typically named for prominent features that occur on the map. “West of Huntoon Spring” has no notable features that are worthy of a map name, so it is named for a feature on the map that is to the east: Huntoon Spring. This empty spot is simply “West of Huntoon Spring.”

Disasters occur when humans get in the way of a natural process

Building in hazard zones creates a lot of emotional trauma through evacuations, rescues, property damage, injury, and death. Not just once, but repeatedly each time the hazard occurs. This type of short-sighted building ignores natural processes and creates disasters where there don't need to be any.

The Costs of Restoration

The Point Reyes Light published my essay in its March 12, 2025 issue. It was edited for space, and the editor suggested I add what I think of the Seashore ranching situation--that version lost some of the nuances of the first draft, which I present below. I like both versions--the published one I'm happy with, but there are a few elements in the first draft I wish could have been included.

3/28/25 update: In the March 27th issue, a letter to the editor says that my "argument wanders between philosophy, policy, and personal anecdotes without ever arriving at a conclusion." He wouldn't like my blog--wandering between philosophy, policy, and personal anecdotes is a good description of it. It is why I am here and hopefully why you are here on this blog--to gain thoughtful insights. And sometimes conclusions. The letter writer also said my "commentary lacks a clear position or actionable recommendations."  I think the editor's suggestion to add my thoughts on the Seashore situation muddled the point a bit, because my main point wasn't about the Seashore--it was about the commentary that had elements that I disagreed with. I do have a clear position and recommendations for the process--my points are all about the process. Process matters. The outcome will be right if the process is done right. The letter writer said he ended up "confused and lost," to use my words about the other commentary and point them right back at me. Perhaps I could have been clearer, and this page hopefully does that.

Respect and Kindness are Normal; Republicans are Not

The Insurrublicans have a strategy--make the world a hellscape, so that anything they do seems normal in comparison.

They are relying on making the world a meaner place in order to make everything they do seem more normal. It is so important right now to be respectful and kind all the time, going out of our way to make the world a nicer place for everyone, to contrast normalcy with the evil they are doing.

December 2024 Storm

On December 13, 2024, it started raining in the evening, and mostly stopped by 9am on Saturday December 14th.

The Nov 22nd and Dec 14th peak flows on San Geronimo Creek were the same: 1,105 cfs. Daily average flows were 423 cfs & 356 cfs, respectively. In November it took 8.75 hrs of 2.34" of rain (1/4" per hour) to get to peak from 113 cfs; In December it took 7.25 hrs of 2.32" of rain (1/3" per hour). These calculations use rounded times to the nearest hour for rain and quarter hour for flow & add an hour of lag time between rain and flow.

And then things got crazy.

They turned it into Muir Woods

 "They turned it into Muir Woods," I heard someone say as I was leaving Roy's Redwoods yesterday. Roy's Redwoods is San Geronimo Valley's busiest and most famous local redwood grove. There grows the tallest tree in Marin County. 

I had heard this criticism of the $3.5 million Roy's Redwoods rehabilitation project before. The Marin County Open Space District site was closed all summer and completely redone. It is nice to be able to go back this fall and see what it looks like.

The goal of the project was to "

• Restore the hydrologic function of the alluvial valley;
• Improve redwood forest and wetland habitats;
• Guide visitors through an immersive and accessible experience of the redwoods."

When something like this happens, it is like gentrification of the woods. The "new" Roy's Redwoods looks nice--nice trails, well-organized, nice stone work (although the large boulders are a bit out of place and seem to belong in the Sierra Nevada), nice new boardwalks and bridges. It is welcoming in a familiar National Park sort of way, and makes walking the trails pleasant and efficient. I really like the nested loops of the named trails--once you figure out that pattern it is fairly easy to remember where the trails go. The Wilderness Way exploration and adventure zone is a nice (and surprisingly hazardous, and a totally fun mud pit when rainy) touch.

Beautiful stonework at the entrance to Roy's Redwoods

Nice new bridges

Wilderness Way adventure area

November 2024 Atmospheric River

The November 20-22, 2024 Atmospheric River dropped 11.65" in San Geronimo Valley compared to much higher amounts to the north. It was not as wet as the October 2021 storm (that dropped 12.67" in 36 hours causing San Geronimo Creek to peak over twice as high). But the 2024 storm lasted longer--it rained for three days straight (except for a break during the second night). It was so nice to see the sun again on the bright yellow fall leaves on Saturday! San Geronimo Creek peaked at 1,105 cfs at 2:15 pm on Friday November 22nd (at day 3 hour 14 on the graph below). The creek started at its late summer-fall baseflow of less than 1 cfs at the Lagunitas gauge, and as of December 1st is still flowing at 7 cfs. The peak flow was similar in magnitude to last winter season's highest flow in January. We already have about a third of our annual average rainfall as of the end of November, and our 3rd-highest to-date total since water year 2012. Along with over an inch of rain in early November, this has been a wonderful start to our rainy season.

Barnabe and Woodacre rain are reported about 10 minutes before and after the hour, respectively, but shown on the hour here (the hourly differences are mostly due to that). The x-axis is day.hour. 

Reconciliation

On October 26, 2024, the Alliance for Felix Cove hosted a reconciliation conversation between a Tamal-Ko (Tomales Bay Coast Miwok) family and a Point Reyes settler family. The settler family's ancestor, C.W. Howard--who owned most of the land on the west side of Tomales Bay--in 1887 hired Captain Henrik Claussen to evict all the Indians living on the west side of Tomales Bay. Their houses were destroyed and the people were forced to leave. One house remains standing at Felix Cove (Laird's Landing, used by the Lairds to ship dairy products to San Francisco 1860-1866). The last of the Felix family was evicted from their ancestral home by ranchers in 1952, and then later the ranches became part of the Point Reyes National Seashore--owned by all of us and managed for us by the National Park Service.

Felix Cove in 2020

Looking up Tomales Bay from above Felix Cove

The road to nearby Marshall Beach

The thought-provoking conversation included how family members learned of their ancestors' history and how they feel about it, complete with long-overdue apologies. It also included discussion of reparations--specifically, returning Felix Cove to the now landless (aside from a recently-acquired parcel in Nicasio) and federally-unrecognized tribe. You can support their efforts here.

Etcha Tamal, rematriated Coast Miwok Tribal Council
land in Nicasio (photo taken in 2015 after pile burns, and
prior to the 2023 purchase)

The conversation was relevant to all of us, since we all are either indigenous to the land where we live or from somewhere else, and many of us from somewhere else have ancestors who came here and displaced the indigenous people. It felt personal to me, because I too have ancestors that pioneered a dairy industry in the 1850s on stolen indigenous land. And it made me realize that I too would like to apologize for those actions. This is that apology.

"At some point, you have to decide, are you going to live in a world of abundance, open-heartedness, and open-mindedness, or are you going to live in a world of exclusion, isolationism, and scarcity?"

--Theresa Harlan, founder of the Alliance for Felix Cove, describing why she laughed at herself when contacted by a descendant of the Point Reyes colonizers

October 2024 Heat Wave

 The October 2024 heat wave was the warmest early-October weather in the Bay Area since 1980. Above average temperatures began for San Geronimo Valley just before the autumnal equinox, which was the beginning of 18 days over 80 degrees F, 10 days over 90 F, and 3 days over 100 F. Two of the days in the 90s occurred in September, then there was one cool day--September 25th, where the high only reached 69 degrees. After that there were 13 days in a row exceeding 80 F and 8 days in a row exceeding 90 F. In October, it had never been over 95 F before, but 3 days over 100 F and 3 days over 95 F set new October monthly records (since I started recordkeeping in 2012). October has now become a month when it can not just get hot, but really hot.

As with many heat waves, the remarkable thing was

The California Water Cycle

 The causes of most problems are solutions. We rarely unbuild big things that we've built. Instead we layer on solutions--some of them big new things that create their own big new problems. Sometimes you gotta just take out the big thing that started the whole cycle.

Soil Science Joke

 Mono Basin Textural Triangle:

Note that in some lentic zones you might encounter loamy sand, sandy loam, sandy clay loam, or sandy clay. But there will be sand. In other areas you might encounter gravelly sand, cobbly sand, stony sand (not just near the dispensary), or bouldery sand.

Insurance

Last week, the Marin Open Space District created a "shaded" fuel break along a fire road in French Ranch. They chipped and bucked a lot of trees near the road, some of which had fallen during winter storms. They took out a good number of trees in the lower grassland, before you reach the forest. It feels a lot more open and sunny now. Forest management isn't always pretty, but in a couple of years things grow back and look a lot better. And the long-term context is that over the last 40 years (with no grazing, no fires, and warmer temperatures) the woody vegetation is spreading, slowly converting the grassland to coyotebush and Douglas-fir forest. Perhaps the management goal is to revert these transitioning slopes back to a grassland? Or more likely, with work only occurring along the road, it is to give vehicles more room and safety during a wildfire.

But now imagine someone cutting down your favorite shade tree in your local park. The loss of individual shade trees on the steep hot sunny hike up to ridgetop forest makes this hike less accessible to kids and elderly and less pleasant for everyone. On a recent hike with my daughter and her friend, they were tired and we stopped to rest at one of these missing trees before heading back down. Doing that hike today would be a hotter and sunnier and less-pleasant experience.

February (left) and July (right) photos show the loss of 25-year-old shade trees on a hot south-facing slope.

A young solitary Pacific Madrone (Arbutus menziesii) was cut down in a Marin Open Space Preserve last week.

Honorable Mention

 About thirty years ago, when I was at Cal Poly San Luis Obispo, I took an environmental law class. At the end of the class we had to write a brief and present it to a panel of volunteer judges in a real courtroom. The judges awarded students first, second, third place for the best briefs, and I had an honorable mention--for being clever.

The case we had to argue was a real one from our environmental law book--a developer had proposed a housing development in the Central Valley, and a raptor center had challenged it on various environmental and CEQA grounds. Our instructor was also clever--he assigned which side of the case we were to argue based on our opposite inclinations. Since I probably exhibited signs of populism, caring about good governance, and prioritizing environmental and people protection over developers making money at public expense, I was assigned the developer's side of the case to argue.

This put me in a difficult position. In a real job, I just would have rejected it--frankly, I felt the developer's case sucked. I saw no way to win, or even argue that side with a straight face. But as a student, I couldn't say no. I had to do it somehow.

Then I had an idea.

Storm Totals, Storm Damage, Power Outages, Falling Trees, and Moving Logs

January 2023 will go down in the record books as one of the stormiest, snowiest, and rainiest months for many parts of California. As of January 16th, San Geronimo Valley had received 19 inches of rain--making it our second-wettest January in the last decade (after 2017). In addition, the wind, landslide, and flood damage has been widespread. And the month is only half over. Much of that was packed into the first 11 days.

The story starts in December, after a dry October-November start to the 2023 water year (following 3 dry years). Here in San Geronimo Valley, I measured 16.59 inches of rain in December, at 240% of average, the wettest December in 8 years and second-wettest in the last decade.

Logs began moving in San Geronimo Creek in early December, when a series of storms brought rare lightning and thunder, and enough rain to get San Geronimo Creek up to 200 cfs. This was not a large flow, but trees fell in the creek and rafted down to an engineered logjam that was placed in the creek in 2020. An October 2021 storm that peaked at 2,500 cfs had already moved around the logs connected to boulders in this logjam--logs that were designed to stay in place. Surprisingly, a log that didn't move in 2021 was scooted several feet downstream by the 660 cfs flow on December 27th, 2022. It stopped when the boulder it was anchored to bumped up against another log embedded in the creekbed.

Note the moving log bolted to a boulder at the lower right corner of the
photos on December 10th (left) and December 28th (right).

Two storms at the end of December were impressive. The one on the 27th dropped half-an-inch of rain an hour for six hours. Once again there was rare lightning and thunder. Read about "snow level bending" as freezing levels fluctuated near Lake Tahoe. Twenty-two foot waves towered along the coast.

On December 26th, 2022, seventeen-foot waves were oversteepened
and trailing banners of spray because of the east wind. They foreshadowed
the 22-foot waves that were forecasted on the 27th.

Inhabiting a fire-adapted land

The land used to be inhabited. People lived some or all of the year in almost every place in California, with exceptions of extreme high elevations and extreme desert. This made tending the land feasible--over 4 million acres could be burned each year easily, in areas where people were intimately familiar with the vegetation and weather, around people's homes, without traveling long distances to conduct the burns. Networks of trails--dense in inhabited places--would have been natural fire breaks under these conditions.

Today, much of the land is uninhabited, except temporarily by rangers and recreationists. The inhabited landscape has shrunk to a small fraction of California, and even there, outside of Southern California chaparral ecosystems where fire frequency has increased, most burning has been suppressed. So we have a build up of fuels in forests, a takeover of grasslands by non-native invasive weeds, and general ecosystem degradation.

Simply increasing the acreage burned each year would be a feasible approach to solving this problem if the land was still inhabited. But it is not. So people unfamiliar with the land (topography, vegetation, weather) must travel long distances to conduct controlled burns. This model is expensive, inefficient, and not scalable to the acreages that need to be burned each year--estimated to be over 4 million acres that burned in pre-European times and that is a sustainable level for maintaining California's ecosystems with a natural fire regime, and lessening the likelihood of catastrophic fires.

In addition, large areas of federal public land, formerly inhabited by Indians or patrolled by rangers, have been defunded by Congress year after year to the point where it is rare to see a ranger. The uninformed and uneducated public trashes these lands without guidance or oversight. And the neglected lands have a fire recurrence and intensity that is out of whack and getting wackier.

Hiring more rangers who actually manage and live and camp on the land is one way to solve this problem. Inviting indigenous people to live on and manage land is another. Both approaches should be used to get our public--and private--lands back in balance.