Davidson Seamount and the Unseen Mountains and Hidden Treasures Off California’s Coast

California’s coast is home to dozens of seamounts, each harboring diverse ecosystems and geological mysteries waiting to be explored.

The **Octopuses Garden on Davidson Seamount in California. Photo Credit:** Chad King / OET, NOAA

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If you’ve ever looked out at the vastness of the ocean, you might think it’s a uniformly barren and flat landscape below the tranquil or tempestuous waves. But you’d be mistaken. Imagine for a moment a hidden world of underwater mountains, volcanoes that never broke the water’s surface, all lying in the mysterious depths of the ocean. These enigmatic formations are known as seamounts, and off the coast of California, they constitute an environment as fascinating as it is vital.

Interestingly, a lot of these seamounts off California are actually relatively new to science. According to Robert Kunzig and his book Mapping the Deep: “In 1984, a sidescan survey off southern California revealed a hundred uncharted seamounts, or undersea volcanoes, in a region that had been thought to be flat.”

The genesis of these structures begins with a geologic process known as plate tectonics. As tectonic plates move beneath the Earth’s crust, they create hotspots of molten rock. This magma escapes through weak points in the crust and solidifies as it reaches the cold seawater, gradually building up into an undersea mountain. After thousands of years, a seamount is born. Most of California’s seamounts are conical in shape, though erosion and other geological forces can turn them into more complex formations over time.

Each seamount is a world unto itself, with distinct mineral compositions, shapes, and ecosystems. Recent research has energized the scientific community. For instance, the Davidson Seamount is the most well-known of these volcanoes and was the first underwater peak to be named a seamount. The seamount is named for George Davidson, a British pioneering scientist and surveyor. Located about 80 km (50 miles) off the coast of Big Sur, it’s shaped like an elongated arrowhead made up of several parallel ridges of sheer volcanic cones. Most of these erupted about 10-15 million years ago, and are made up 320 cubic km of hawaiite, mugearite, and alkalic basalt, the basalt types commonly found along spreading ridges like the Mid-Atlantic Ridge.

The sheer number of seamounts only began to emerge when new detection methods were developed, including the ability to spot them from space. These underwater mountains are so massive that they create a gravitational pull, drawing seawater slightly toward their center of mass, much like the moon’s pull generates tides. Since seawater is incompressible, it doesn’t compress around the seamounts but instead forms slight bulges on the ocean surface. Satellites can detect these bulges, helping locate the hidden, basaltic peaks below. Satellite studies suggest that the largest seamounts—those over 5,000 feet—may number anywhere from thirty thousand to over one hundred thousand worldwide, with high concentrations in the central Pacific, Indian, and Atlantic Oceans, around Antarctica, and in the Mediterranean. Each of these seamounts is an underwater volcano, typically lining mid-ocean ridges, subduction zones, or one of the forty to fifty oceanic hot spots where the earth’s crust is thin and magma rises from the mantle.

Davidson Seamount is by far the best-studied of the many seamounts off the California coast. Stretching a sprawling 26 miles in length and spanning 8 miles across, this colossal seamount ranks among the largest known formations of its kind in U.S. territorial waters. Towering at a remarkable 7,480 feet from its base to its peak, the mountain remains shrouded in the depths, with its summit situated a substantial 4,101 feet beneath the ocean’s surface. Studies have indicated that some seamounts contain deposits of rare earth elements, which could have potential economic importance in the future.

A rorqual whale fall found near Davidson Seamount at a depth of 3,200 meters. **Photo Credit:** Chad King / OET, NOAA

Seamounts are biodiversity hotspots. Boasting an incredibly diverse range of deep-sea corals, Davidson Seamount serves as a kind of underwater Eden. Often referred to as “An Oasis in the Deep,” this submerged mountain is a bustling metropolis of marine life, featuring expansive coral forests and sprawling sponge fields. But it doesn’t stop there—crabs, deep-sea fishes, shrimp, basket stars, and a host of rare and still-unidentified bottom-dwelling creatures also call this place home. The seamount is more than just a biologically rich environment; it’s a treasure trove of national importance for its contributions to ocean conservation, scientific research, education, aesthetics, and even history.

Map of seamounts along the California coast. (*Marine Conservation Institute*)

Perhaps the most astonishing discovery at Davidson Seamount occurred in 2018, when scientists discovered the “Octopus Garden,” the largest known aggregation of octopuses in the world. The garden is about two miles deep and was discovered by researchers on the research vessel (RV) Nautilus. The team of scientists initially spotted a pair of octopuses through a camera on a remotely operated vehicle (ROV). Amanda Kahn, an ecologist at Moss Landing Marine Laboratories and San Jose State University, who was on the Nautilus during the discovery, told Scientific American that after observing the pair for a bit, the operators started to drift away from the rocks to move on, but immediately saw something unusual. “Up ahead of us were streams of 20 or more octopuses nestled in crevices,” Kahn says.

Typically lone wanderers of the ocean, octopuses aren’t known for their social gatherings. So, when researchers stumbled upon more than just one or two of these creatures, they knew something out of the ordinary was afoot. Swiftly pivoting from their original plans, the team zeroed in for a closer look. What they found was a community of these grapefruit-sized, opalescent octopuses, along with something even more mysterious—unusual shimmers in the surrounding water, hinting at the existence of some kind of underwater fluid seeps or springs. It turns out the octopuses migrate to deep-sea hydrothermal springs to breed. The females brood their eggs in the garden, where it is warmer than surrounding waters.

“This Octopus Garden is by far the largest aggregate of octopuses known anywhere in the world, deep-sea or not,” James Barry, a benthic ecologist at the Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute told Scientific American. Barry is the leader of the new study, published on in August in Science Advances, that reveals why the animals are gathering. The researchers have observed over 5,700 Pearl octopuses (Muusoctopus robustus) breeding near Davidson Seamount, 3,200 meters below the ocean’s surface. In this deep-sea nursery, octopus mothers keep their eggs warm in 5°C waters flowing from a hydrothermal spring. The water is more than 3°C warmer than the surrounding ocean. This added warmth accelerates the embryos’ development, allowing them to fully mature in just under two years on average.

The Octopuses Garden was studied over the course of 14 dives with MBARI’s remotely operated vehicle (ROV) Doc Ricketts. It is within the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary, so it is federally protected against exploitation and extraction., although many scientists are concerned that global warming could end up having a deleterious impact on the biological life found around seamounts.

So far scientists have discovered other octopus gardens around the globe. There are four deep-sea octopus gardens in total. Two are located off the coast of Central California and two are off the coast of Costa Rica.

New technological advancements like Remotely Operated Vehicles (ROVs) have recently opened doors to discoveries we never thought possible. Cutting-edge imaging technology has finally given us the ability to capture strikingly clear and high-resolution pictures from this enigmatic deep-sea habitat. These vivid images provide both the scientific community and the general public with unprecedented peeks into the lives of rare marine species inhabiting this mostly cold and dark underwater world.

Depth color-coded map of Monterey Canyon. (Monterey Bay Aquarium Research Institute)

Davidson Seamount’s proximity to the rich educational and research ecosystem in the Monterey Bay area. One of the world’s preeminent ocean research organizations, the Monterey Bay Research Institute (MBARI), is located in Moss Landing, California, right at the spot where the magnificent Monterey Canyon stretches away from the coast for hundreds of miles. This geographic boon makes it easier for interdisciplinary teams to join forces, enriching our understanding and educational outreach related to this uniquely captivating undersea landscape.

Beyond being hubs of biodiversity, seamounts also serve as waypoints for migratory species. Just like rest stops along a highway, these underwater mountains provide food and shelter for creatures like whales and tuna on their long journeys. This makes seamounts critical for the health of global marine ecosystems. Additionally, understanding seamounts could give us insights into climate change. They play a role in ocean circulation patterns, which, in turn, affect global weather systems. They are also excellent “archives” of long-term climate data, which could help us understand past climate variations and predict future trends.

Advances in underwater technology, like ROVs, autonomous submersibles and better remote sensing methods, are making it easier to study these mysterious mountains. But many questions still remain unanswered. For instance, how exactly do seamount ecosystems interact with surrounding marine environments? What are the long-term impacts of human activities, like deep-sea mining or overfishing, on these fragile habitats? And what untapped resources, both biological and mineral, lie waiting in these submerged summits?

A time-lapse camera designed by MBARI engineers allowed researchers to observe activity at the
Octopus Garden between research expeditions. (Photo: MBARI)

We can wax poetic about the mysteries of seamounts, but understanding them better is crucial for the preservation of marine ecosystems and for equipping ourselves with the knowledge to tackle environmental challenges. So, the next time you look out over the ocean, consider the hidden worlds lying beneath those waves—each a bustling metropolis of life and a potential goldmine of scientific discovery.

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More information:

Video about California seamounts

Recent discovery of the Octopuses garden (MBARI).

The Majestic San Gabriel Mountains: A Deep Dive into Their Formation, History, and Biodiversity

Photo: “LA Skyline Mountains2” by Nserrano is licensed under CC BY-SA 3.0

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Towering over Los Angeles like quiet guardians, the San Gabriel Mountains stretch across the northern edge of the city, keeping watch over the busy sprawl below. More than just a dramatic barrier, these mountains are packed with stories of shifting earth, ancient rock, wild weather, and the people who’ve passed through them for thousands of years. They are also a primary source of Southern California beaches. They’re not just a backdrop; they’re a vital part of the region’s identity, full of science, history, and amazing nature.

Part of the Transverse Ranges, a rare east-west trending group of mountains in California, the San Gabriels rise abruptly from the San Gabriel Valley and form a kind of barrier between L.A. and the Mojave Desert. Framed by Interstate 5 to the west and Interstate 15 to the east, the range is anchored on its north side by the famous San Andreas Fault, where the Pacific and North American tectonic plates constantly grind against each other. That ongoing crush is what helped push these peaks up so quickly. Geologically speaking, they’re growing surprisingly quickly.

Side note: The Transverse Ranges also include the Santa Monica Mountains, San Bernardino Mountains, Santa Ynez Mountains, Topatopa Mountains, Tehachapi Mountains, Santa Susana Mountains, and Sierra Madre Mountains.

Inside the range you’ll find the Angeles and San Bernardino National Forests, along with the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument, first established in 2014 and significantly expanded in 2024 to protect more than 450,000 acres of rugged, biodiverse, and culturally significant terrain. (There is excellent hiking in these mountains.) These protected areas include steep canyons, chaparral, rare wildlife, and sites that are important to the history and traditions of Native American communities.

A pool of water from the Arroyo Seco in the San Gabriel Mountain (Erik Olsen)

The rocks here are some of the oldest in the region, but the mountains also tell stories from more recent times: gold miners, early astronomers, hikers, and wildfire researchers. The San Gabriels help shape the weather, store precious snowpack, and remind everyone in L.A. that nature is always nearby and always in motion.

The San Gabriel Mountains offer an impressive rise in elevation, they really kind of explode out of the earth. While the foothills begin at nearly sea level, the highest point in the range is Mount San Antonio, but most people know it as Mount Baldy because, let’s face it, with its distinctive, treeless summit, it looks kind of bald. This peak reaches an altitude of 10,064 feet (3,068 meters). The quick transition from the bustling city to towering peaks is part of the magic of these mountains, a dramatic wall standing guard over downtown Los Angeles.

While the San Gabriels are much smaller in terms of length than, say the Appalachians, they are significantly taller on average. The highest peak in the Appalachians, Mount Mitchell in North Carolina, reaches 6,684 feet (2,037 meters). That’s considerably lower than Mount Baldy in the San Gabriels. The San Gabriels, therefore, boast higher peaks even though they cover a smaller area. However, compared to the Appalachians, which are thought to be billions of years old, the San Gabriel Mountains are relatively young, geologically speaking, and are characterized by rugged and steep features. In essence, being younger, they’ve undergone less erosion.

San Gabriel mountains from La Cañada Flintridge (Photo: Erik Olsen)

It is believed that much of the sand on California’s legendary beaches originated in the San Gabriel mountains, the result of erosion and various rivers and streams that run into the Pacific Ocean.

To understand the story of the San Gabriel Mountains, we need to embark on a temporal journey spanning millions of years. The mountains’ tale starts about 100 million years ago, during the Mesozoic Era, when massive tectonic plates—the Pacific and North American plates—began to converge. The interaction of these tectonic plates was dramatic, with the Pacific Plate subducting, or diving beneath, the North American Plate. This subduction caused the rocks to melt and, over time, rise to form granitic masses known as plutons.

Rocks of a roadcut in the San Gabriel Mountains (Erik Olsen)

As the ages rolled on, these plutons were uplifted, and the erosion of the surrounding softer rocks exposed the granitic cores, giving birth to the San Gabriel Mountains we see today. The primary rock composition of these mountains is granite, with large-grained crystals of feldspar, quartz, and mica that glitter when the sun kisses their surfaces. These mountains also feature significant deposits of sedimentary rocks, particularly in the lower elevations, which date back to the Mesozoic and Cenozoic eras.

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The drainage system of the San Gabriel Mountains is defined by numerous canyons, streams, and arroyos that channel water down from the high elevations into the valleys below. The Arroyo Seco, one of the most well-known waterways, begins near Mount Wilson and flows southwest through Pasadena before merging with the Los Angeles River. Other important streams include the Big Tujunga Creek, which cuts through the mountains to feed into the San Fernando Valley, and the San Gabriel River, which drains much of the range’s eastern side. These waterways are seasonal, swelling during winter rains and spring snowmelt, and often run dry during summer months. Their canyons have been carved by the relentless forces of erosion, creating deep ravines that are vital for wildlife and plant habitats.

Heavy rains cause flooding in the Arroyo Seco near Pasadena. (Erik Olsen)

The San Gabriel Mountains play a critical role in the watershed that serves the greater Los Angeles area. Rain and snowmelt from the mountains replenish groundwater basins and feed into reservoirs, such as the San Gabriel Reservoir and the Morris Reservoir, which are essential for water supply. These mountains act as a natural guidance system, capturing precipitation and funneling it into the region’s aquifers and rivers, supporting both the municipal water supply and flood control efforts. The watershed is crucial for Los Angeles, which depends on these local sources of water to supplement imported supplies from distant regions like the Colorado River and the Owens Valley. The mountain runoff helps maintain the flow of the Los Angeles River, contributing to the city’s efforts to recharge groundwater and ensure a reliable water supply in this semi-arid region.

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When it rains it pours, and sometimes causes landslides

Flood control has long been a central concern in managing the water systems of the San Gabriel Mountains, particularly due to the area’s vulnerability to intense, episodic storms. The steep slopes of the mountains funnel rainwater rapidly into urban areas, leading to a heightened risk of flash floods and debris flows. Over time, this led to the construction of a vast network of catchment basins, dams, and debris basins at the foot of the mountains. These basins are designed to capture stormwater runoff, preventing the overflow of water into densely populated areas and managing the sediment and debris that comes with mountain runoff, which can clog waterways and exacerbate flooding.

Catchment basins in the San Gabriel Mountains are critical for controlling debris flows that occur during and after heavy rains, which can be particularly dangerous in areas where wildfires have stripped the landscape of vegetation. When intense rainstorms hit the steep, fire-scarred slopes, they trigger massive torrents of mud, boulders, and tree debris that rush down the mountain canyons toward the urban foothills. These debris flows can overwhelm creeks and spill into residential neighborhoods, causing widespread destruction. The catchment basins are designed to trap this debris before it reaches populated areas, but their effectiveness depends on regular maintenance and clearing. When these basins fill up too quickly or are not properly maintained, debris can overtop them, leading to significant flooding and property damage.

A stark example of the dangers posed by debris flows occurred in Montrose in 1934. Following a series of intense storms in the aftermath of the New Year’s Day floods, massive debris flows roared out of the San Gabriel Mountains, devastating the communities of Montrose, La Crescenta, and Tujunga. The floods and debris flows buried homes and roads under several feet of mud and debris, killing at least 45 people. The Montrose landslide became a tragic reminder of the risks associated with living near the San Gabriel Mountains, particularly in the face of severe weather. This event spurred greater investments in flood control infrastructure, including the construction of more robust debris basins to mitigate the effects of future storms.

A fascinating article on the efforts to control debris flows from the San Gabriels, though a bit dated, was penned by John McPhee—whose work we greatly admire. It remains a deeply engaging read on the subject.

The San Gabriel Mountains aren’t just a spectacle of natural processes; they’ve also been a silent witness to numerous significant historical events. The grave of Owen Brown can be found in the mountains just outside of La Canada Flintridge. Owen was the third son of abolitionist John Brown, and has a resting place that has stirred intrigue and speculation for generations. Owen’s grave has become a kind of pilgrimage site for those interested in American history.

Locals gather to celebrate the installation of a gravestone honoring abolitionist Owen Brown on January 29, 1898,
nearly a decade after his death. Photo: Brown family and Paul Ayers.

Owen Brown was a fervent abolitionist like his father and participated in the famous raid on Harpers Ferry. After the tumultuous events that marked his early life, he moved to California, seeking solace in the west. He settled near El Prieto Canyon and lived a relatively secluded life. After his death in 1889, he was buried on a hillside overlooking the canyon, and his grave was marked with a simple headstone. Over time, nature, vandals, and other factors led to the original headstone’s disappearance, adding a layer of mystique to the grave’s location. However, in 2019, a replica of the gravestone was installed.

Mount Wilson is another historical wonder in the range. Standing at a towering height of 5,710 feet, it’s not just its elevation that sets Mt. Wilson apart. In the early 20th century, the Mount Wilson Observatory was established, and it soon became a hub of astronomical discoveries. It was here that Edwin Hubble, using the Hooker Telescope, provided evidence of the expansion of the universe—a groundbreaking observation that eventually led to the Big Bang Theory.

Infrastructure Marvel: The Angeles Crest Highway
The human connection to the San Gabriel Mountains was further cemented with the construction of the Angeles Crest Highway in the 1930s. Spanning approximately 66 miles, this scenic byway was a colossal engineering challenge. Its creation provided access to previously remote regions and breathtaking panoramic views that today lure thousands of tourists and nature enthusiasts. The highway is also one of the highest in Southern California, with a summit of 7,903 feet at the Dawson Saddle.

Angeles Crest Highway roadcut (Photo: Erik Olsen)

Driving on the Angeles Crest Highway is an experience that’s both thrilling and a bit nerve-wracking. Winding and twisting through the mountains, you can come across steep drop-offs, sharp turns, and narrow lanes. With elevation changes ranging from around 1,200 feet to more than 7,900 feet, it’s a route that demands respect and attention from those behind the wheel.

Flora, Fauna, and Natural History: A Biodiversity Hotspot
Beyond geology and history, the San Gabriel Mountains are a treasure trove of biodiversity. The montane environment, with its varied elevation and climate zones, has given rise to a rich tapestry of flora and fauna. Iconic trees like the Jeffrey pine, Coulter pine, and California black oak adorn the landscape. Wildflowers paint the meadows in vibrant hues, from the golden yarrow to the scarlet larkspur.

The fauna is just as diverse, with animals like the California condor, bighorn sheep, and mountain lions roaming the rugged terrain. The waters that trickle and rush down these mountains are home to arroyo chubs and Santa Ana suckers.

The California condor is known to inhabit the San Gabriel range

Protection of this vital ecosystem came in the form of the San Gabriel Mountains National Monument designation in 2014, ensuring that the mountains’ rich biodiversity and cultural significance will be preserved for generations.

The San Gabriel Mountains are more than just a scenic backdrop. They reflect the Earth’s active geology, hold key historical moments, and support diverse ecosystems. Amid growing urbanization, these mountains remain a lasting reminder of the interconnectedness of life, history, and natural forces.

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The Garibaldi’s Dance of Color and Character in California’s Coastal Ballet

Underwater photos of California’s coast featured in books and magazines almost always showcase a certain fish: the garibaldi. Within the underwater kaleidoscope of California’s coastal waters, the Garibaldi fish stands out with its fiery orange hue. The garibaldi, a member of the damselfish family, is the California State marine fish, and its possession is illegal.

The fish is likely named after the 19th-century Italian revolutionary Giuseppe Garibaldi, whose army wore bright red shirts, or after the “garibaldi”, a woman’s red blouse worn in the 1890’s.

Biologically speaking, the Garibaldi fish owe their orange coloring mainly to pigments called carotenoids. These carotenoids are pretty interesting; you’ll find them in many fruits and vegetables, like carrots, for example, where they give off that familiar orange glow. Garibaldi eat a diet rich in crustaceans, such as crabs and shrimps, which are packed with these pigments. When the fish ingest them, the carotenoids are absorbed and deposited into the skin tissues.

Carotenoids can also act as antioxidants, which means they might even play a role in protecting the fish’s cells from damage. This is a bit of a two-for-one deal: not only do they get to look good, but they also get some potential health benefits as well.

Interestingly, there’s a bit of a territorial aspect to the bright orange coloration. Garibaldi fish are known to be quite territorial, and the males are especially flashy. They use their bright coloration to ward off rivals and also to attract mates.

The color isn’t just a superficial beauty mark; it plays a significant role in the fish’s survival and reproductive strategies. The orange hue signals strength, dominance, and overall fitness. It’s like a badge of honor they wear to proclaim, “Look at me, I’m strong, healthy, and in charge here!”

The Garibaldi is more than just a pretty face in the crowd. This fish, found from Monterey Bay down to Baja California, displays behaviors and characteristics that make it a subject of intrigue for marine biologists and diving enthusiasts alike.

One of the best places to see Garibaldi if you are a diver or enjoy snorkeling is off the coast of Catalina Island, about 20 miles from Long Beach. One particularly popular spot is Casino Point in the city of Avalon on the island.

Known for being highly territorial, the male Garibaldi is an underwater homeowner, meticulously crafting nests from red algae during mating season. This homemaking process is not just about building; it’s about showmanship. The males showcase their algae-laden nests to prospective females in an underwater dance, swimming around their creation with pride, hoping to entice the females to lay their eggs there.

A California Garibaldi protecting its nest.

But the courtship doesn’t end with the dance. Once the female is wooed and the eggs are laid, the male Garibaldi takes on the role of a nurturing parent. He stands guard over the eggs, fanning them with his pectoral fins to ensure they are well-oxygenated. He even goes to the extent of confronting divers or other fish that venture too close to his precious brood.

The Garibaldi’s territorial nature also extends to a curious interaction with humans. Despite their fierceness in protecting their domain, these fish are known to approach divers, examining them with an inquisitive gaze. This friendliness, coupled with their radiant color, makes them a favorite subject among underwater photographers.

“The only thing that seems to affect their fearless behavior is the color of the animal that’s approaching them,” said Cabrillo Marine Aquarium (CMA) Research Curator Dr. Kiersten Darrow. “They will attack everybody else, but if they see that it’s a garibaldi fish of a certain type then they will back away.”

Perhaps even more fascinating is the Garibaldi’s voice – a distinctive thumping sound that some divers have reported hearing. Though the exact reason for this sound is not entirely understood, it’s believed to be related to their territorial behavior, adding another layer to the mystique of this remarkable fish.

Beyond its engaging behaviors, the Garibaldi’s story carries a note of triumph in conservation. Its popularity led to overfishing in the past, which spurred protective measures. Today, the Garibaldi enjoys protected status in California waters, safeguarding it from harm and allowing it to thrive.

A testament to resilience, the Garibaldi can live for over 20 years, growing slowly and reaching full maturity at about six years of age. This longevity, coupled with its unique characteristics, makes it a symbol of the diverse and vibrant marine life that graces California’s coastline.

Catalina Island and Casino Point (Erik Olsen)

In the world of marine biology, where hidden wonders often lie beneath the waves, the Garibaldi emerges as a charismatic star. With its bold color, intricate courtship rituals, protective parenting, and friendly curiosity, it captures the imagination, not just as a beautiful spectacle but as a complex character in the grand tapestry of ocean life. Whether seen during a dive or behind the glass of an aquarium, the Garibaldi remains a fascinating glimpse into the rich and often surprising world beneath the sea.

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The Eucalyptus Tree’s Twisted Path to Californian Soil

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The California landscape is dotted with numerous plant species, many of them native, but few have a story as rich and multi-faceted as the eucalyptus tree. Native to Australia, this tree has made California its home over the past century and a half, creating a blend of wonder, economic expectation, and ecological concerns.

The journey of the eucalyptus tree to California dates back to the mid-19th century. Attracted by tales of gold and prosperity, many Australians made their way to the Golden State. Along with them came seeds of the eucalyptus tree, which they believed had great potential value. By the 1870s and 1880s, California was amidst a timber crisis. Native woodlands were diminishing, and the state was in dire need of a rapidly growing timber source. The eucalyptus tree, known for its rapid growth and towering heights, appeared to be a promising solution. Its proponents, believing it would not only serve as an excellent timber source but also act as a windbreak and ornamental plant, began widespread plantations.

While the eucalyptus grew impressively fast, hopes for it being a top-tier lumber source were quickly dashed. Most species planted in California had wood that was prone to warping and splitting upon drying. The enthusiasm surrounding the eucalyptus as a miracle timber tree gradually waned. What was initially perceived as a solution turned out to be more of a decorative element in the landscape rather than an economic boon.

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Despite its failure in the lumber industry, the eucalyptus managed to root itself firmly in the Californian soil. Over time, this rapid settler began to pose significant environmental concerns. Eucalyptus trees are thirsty plants. Their deep roots often outcompete native species for water, hindering the growth and survival of native Californian plants and altering the balance of local ecosystems. Furthermore, eucalyptus groves have become a concern for wildfires. Their oil-rich leaves and peeling bark make them exceptionally flammable, amplifying dangers during California’s fire-prone seasons.

While over 700 eucalyptus species exist, only a handful made it to California. The most commonly planted and now dominant species is the blue gum eucalyptus (Eucalyptus globulus). Towering over most trees, the blue gum can reach staggering heights, quickly establishing its dominance in the landscape. Other species like the red gum (Eucalyptus camaldulensis) and the sugar gum (Eucalyptus cladocalyx) have also found their way into California, albeit in smaller numbers. The sugar gum is particularly present around the campus of Stanford University.

By the late 1900s, concerns over the eucalyptus’ impact on native habitats led to movements advocating for their removal. Environmentalists and local residents began to see the tree as an invasive species that hindered the natural balance. Efforts to cut down and manage the eucalyptus population intensified, often clashing with those who had come to admire the tree’s majestic presence and the unique ambiance it provided.

Considered among the thousand-plus established alien vascular plants in California—two-thirds of which originated in Eurasia—Eucalyptus seems relatively benign. Of the 374 species in the genus that have been introduced since the 1850s, only 18 have naturalized, and only one of those, E. globulus, has become a nuisance, and then only at the urban-wildland interface along the fog belt of the central coast and Bay Area, and there only after humans gave it an enormous head start with plantations.

Even in these locations, self-sustaining feral forests have not grown dramatically beyond the boundaries of the original plantings. In the Golden State the blue gum has never been especially invasive; rather, it used to be hugely desirable. Other vegetation imported to California for ornamental purposes has spread far more widely or densely—for example, English ivy, periwinkle, ice plant, and pampas grass. Unlike Saltcedar (Tamarix ramosissima), Tasmanian blue gum is not a true problem plant. It cannot be considered a paradigmatic invader, or even a noteworthy one. The authoritative Encyclopedia of Biological Invasions makes note of the “enigmatic” low invasiveness of eucalypts worldwide—“orders of magnitude less successful as invaders than pines.”

From the perspective of both ecology and fire safety, the blue gum eucalyptus is particularly concerning in California when plantations of a single species have transformed into dense, closed-canopy forests. This issue, though, is confined to a limited number of areas within the fog belt. Even within these regions, the eucalyptus thickets are far from being barren, hostile environments.

That said, a relatively recent event did not cast the tree in good light.

The East Bay firestorm of 1991 was a catastrophic event that claimed 25 lives and rendered thousands homeless. Extensive areas of eucalyptus were consumed by the flames. For 26 years, the East Bay Firestorm firestorm was considered the worst fire in California’s history. It was also America’s most costly fire in the wildland-urban interface (WUI).

“People at the time, I don’t think, associated that with a planted plantation; it was just a eucalyptus forest,” CalPoly botanist Jenn Yost told KQED. “And then when the fire came through — I mean that fire came through so fast and so hot and so many people lost their homes that it was a natural reaction to hate blue gums at that point.”

However, it is again important to point out that the density of trees in the area was unusual and not representative of many other areas where eucalyptus have taken root.

Those opposed to the trees argue that their tendency to shed large quantities of bark exacerbates the fire hazard, and hence, they should be removed. On the other hand, proponents highlight that many of California’s native plants are also prone to burning. The 2018 Camp Fire scorched an area 153,336 acres in size, and destroyed more than 18,000 structures, most of the destruction happened within the first four hours of the fire and most of the destruction was the result of pine forests that have long been improperly managed. Both factions claim that science supports their viewpoint, but as of now, no definitive study has been able to settle the argument conclusively.

This ongoing debate has stirred deep emotions. A few years ago, an incident in the East Bay hills saw federal funding for cutting down trees withdrawn after protesters, in a dramatic display of support for the eucalyptus, got naked and literally embraced the trees on the Cal campus. While some have argued that California needs to return its natural environment to a more “pristine” state, meaning just California natives, others say that the eucalyptus poses no greater danger than many species of conifer, and that the effort to expunge eucalyptus from the landscape, given its contribution to the culture and beautification of the state is tantamount to discrimination against immigrant trees solely due to their origin, an idea which some have extended to the human population.

“We’re not natives either,” the San Diego County chief entomologist said in defense of the county’s signature tree genus.

One ecological study that compared a gathering of oaks to a blue gum grove in the neighboring areas, concluded that the blue gem eucalyptus has no major impact on animal life. In fact, the tree’s leaf litter is bustling with life, containing a complex array of microhabitats. In fact, while oaks tend to be home to more rodents, eucalyptus contains a greater number of below-ground invertebrates.

The complex relationship between Californians and the eucalyptus reflects deeper questions about nature, risk, and our connection to the landscape, and it’s a debate that shows no signs of resolution.

Among the thousand-plus non-native vascular plants that have made their home in California—two-thirds of which hail from Eurasia—the Eucalyptus is relatively mild-mannered. Since the 1850s, 374 species of Eucalyptus have been introduced to the state. Yet, of these, only 18 have successfully naturalized, and merely one, the E. globulus, has ever become problematic. This issue is isolated mainly to the WUI boundary along the fog belt of the central coast and Bay Area, and even there, only after humans heavily promoted its growth through plantation efforts.

Even within these specific regions, the self-sustaining “feral” forests haven’t expanded significantly beyond the original planting sites. In California, the blue gum eucalyptus has never been notorious for being particularly invasive; rather, it was once highly sought-after. Other non-native plants brought to California for decorative purposes, such as periwinkle, English ivy, ice plant, pampas grass, and tamarisk, have spread much more extensively or densely.

Unlike plants like Scotch and French broom, the Tasmanian blue gum eucalyptus doesn’t qualify as a genuine problem plant. It’s not viewed as a typical invader, nor is it even considered particularly noteworthy in that regard. A state survey that consulted floricultural experts produced a broad spectrum of opinions concerning the potential threat posed by eucalyptus to California’s wildlands. This contrasts sharply with the unified negative evaluation of salt cedar, which has bedeviled land managers from Southern California to Mexico.

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The final verdict on the fate of eucalyptus in Southern California has yet to be rendered. Many still think the trees have become an iconic symbol of the state, with so many trees proudly and elegantly lining pocketed and immensely Instagrammable stretches of California highway. Perhaps the key to the trees survivability and reputation is simply one of proper management. Where the trees have become too dense in fire-prone areas, maybe some measure of thinning is prudent. But to eliminate them entirely would be a great loss to the aesthetic visual appeal of California, an appeal that many Californians, even conservation-minded artists like Ansel Adams and Erin Hanson often summoned in their work.

The eucalyptus tree’s journey in California is a tale of expectations, surprises, and evolving perspectives. Whether viewed as an ornamental marvel or an ecological concern, the eucalyptus remains an integral part of California’s diverse tapestry.

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Mt. Wilson Observatory in Los Angeles is a Celestial Time Capsule

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Perched atop a lofty peak in the San Gabriel Mountains of California sits a historic treasure, one of the great astronomical tools of the 20th century: the Mt. Wilson Observatory. For more than 100 years, it has been a centerpiece for major astronomical discoveries, playing a pivotal role in our understanding of the universe. The observatory, with its rich history shaped by devoted scientists, advanced technology, and revolutionary discoveries, stands as a testament to humanity’s relentless pursuit of knowledge.

The story of the Mt. Wilson Observatory begins with the visionary astronomer George Ellery Hale. Recognizing the importance of location, Hale selected Mt. Wilson for its elevation of 5,710 feet and its proximity to the Pacific Ocean, which provided consistently stable, clear skies—perfect conditions for astronomical observations. In 1904, he installed the first telescope at the site, the Snow Solar Telescope, specifically designed for studying the Sun. This telescope marked the beginning of groundbreaking solar research at the observatory and set the stage for future advancements in astronomy.

Many brilliant minds walked the halls and explored domes of Mt. Wilson, but few shone as brightly as Edwin Hubble. In the 1920s, using the Hooker Telescope – then the largest in the world – Hubble made two groundbreaking discoveries:

Before Hubble’s observations at Mt. Wilson, the prevailing belief was that our galaxy, the Milky Way, constituted the entirety of the universe. The existence of other galaxies was not yet confirmed, and what we now know as galaxies were often referred to as “nebulae” and thought to be part of the Milky Way.

Hubble’s groundbreaking discovery in 1923-1924, using the 100-inch Hooker telescope at Mt. Wilson, revealed that the Andromeda Nebula (now known as the Andromeda Galaxy) was far beyond the Milky Way, providing the first concrete evidence that the universe extended far beyond our own galaxy. This discovery fundamentally altered our understanding of the cosmos, leading to the realization that the universe is vast and filled with countless galaxies.

Using the powerful Hooker telescope once again, Hubble carefully observed distant galaxies and made a groundbreaking discovery: these galaxies were moving away from us. Even more astonishing was that the farther a galaxy was, the faster it was receding. This finding provided clear evidence that the universe itself was expanding. Hubble’s revelation shattered the long-held belief in a static universe and laid the groundwork for the Big Bang theory, suggesting that the universe had a specific beginning and has been expanding ever since. Through Hubble’s meticulous observations, humanity gained a new understanding of a dynamic, ever-evolving cosmos, far more vast and mysterious than anyone had previously imagined.

Many other scientists have also made major discoveries at Mt. Wilson. One luminary, Harlow Shapley, used the observatory to gauge more specifically our place in the Milky Way. Before Shapley, Earth was believed to be at the galaxy’s center. However, through his observations of globular clusters, he pinpointed our more humble location on a distant spiral arm.

Another notable scientists who made significant contributions at Mt. Wilson Observatory was Walter Baade. Baade, a German-American astronomer, played a key role in refining our understanding of the universe by studying stars in different populations. During World War II, when Los Angeles experienced blackout conditions, Baade took advantage of the clearer skies at Mt. Wilson to observe celestial objects with unprecedented clarity. He discovered that there were two distinct types of stars in the Milky Way, which led to the realization that galaxies had different stellar populations. This breakthrough allowed Baade to correct the scale of the universe, doubling the previously estimated size of galaxies and distances to them. His work helped refine Hubble’s expanding universe theory and provided a deeper understanding of the evolutionary stages of stars. Baade’s observations were critical in the advancement of modern cosmology and our comprehension of the vastness of space.

Instruments of Enlightenment

Over the years, Mt. Wilson has housed a suite of powerful telescopes:

The Hooker Telescope: At 100-inches, it was the world’s largest when it was installed in 1917. It’s the very instrument Hubble used for his revolutionary work.
The Snow Solar Telescope: The observatory’s inaugural instrument remains crucial for solar studies.
The CHARA Array: The Center for High Angular Resolution Astronomy array is an impressive configuration of six telescopes that function as an interferometer. It allows for sharper images of stars than even the Hubble Space Telescope. The CHARA Array has a spatial resolution equivalent to a single telescope 331 meters (over 1000 ft) in diameter. Light from each of the six telescopes is transported through fiber optics to a special beam-combining room.

Not only has Mt. Wilson been instrumental in observing distant stars, but it also has a unique device: the Snow Horizontal Solar Telescope. This apparatus, combined with the spectrograph, was used to study the sun’s magnetic fields. It has since been fundamental in understanding solar cycles and the impact of solar phenomena on Earth’s climate.

In 2020, the Bobcat Fire, the second largest fire on record in Los Angeles County to date, burned over 115,000 acres and was active for more than three months. Annually, the team at Mount Wilson Observatory takes measures against potential forest fires, removing fire-hazardous invasive plants and ensuring their extensive water tanks are full for the fire suppression system. Just a few months prior to the blaze, they had fitted new high-capacity hydrants. These proactive steps played a pivotal role in safeguarding the Observatory when the Bobcat Fire flames approached within a mere 20 feet of its perimeter. A dozen fire squads, each consisting of 40 to 50 firefighters from various units, tirelessly worked day and night to protect this cherished landmark.

Scene at Mt. Wilson after the 2020 Bobcat Fire (Erik Olsen)

Visitors to the Mt. Wilson Observatory have a rare chance to not only tour the grounds but also look through the same telescopes that revolutionized astronomy. Public “Telescope Nights” offer the exciting opportunity to observe the night sky through the famous 60-inch or 100-inch telescopes, the latter being the largest in the world open to the public. These sessions allow people to view celestial objects like planets, star clusters, and nebulae in stunning detail. Reservations are necessary for these events, as spots fill up quickly due to high demand. Additionally, private group sessions and special events can be arranged, providing an unforgettable, up-close experience with the universe. Guided tours are also available for those who want to dive into the observatory’s rich history, tracing the steps of astronomers who made some of the greatest discoveries of the 20th century.

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The Sweet Journey of the Boysenberry from Family Farms to Theme Park Fame

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California has long been a hub for berry innovation, boasting a rich history of developing countless berry cultivars. While it’s tough to pin down an exact number, the state’s contributions span a wide range of fruits, from strawberries to blackberries to loganberries, raspberries, and even blueberries.

Somewhere in the pantheon of berries, tucked between the familiar blackberry and the enigmatic lingonberry (a Scandinavian staple, just ask the Swedes, or swing by IKEA), you’ll find the boysenberry. With its deep maroon color, plump size, and a flavor that dances between sweet and tart, the boysenberry is a delicious emblem of California’s horticultural creativity. (Who knew we needed yet another berry?) But how did this berry come to be, and what’s the story behind a Southern California amusement park helping to make it famous?

The journey of the boysenberry begins with its namesake, Rudolph Boysen. In the early 1920s, Boysen, a curious California-based farmer and horticulturist, began experimenting with berry plants at his home in Napa, California. His objective? To develop a new hybrid berry that combined the best attributes of the European raspberry, blackberry, American dewberry, and loganberry.

On relocating to Orange County, he didn’t leave his passion behind; instead, he brought along his precious berry vines, planting them on his in-law’s property in Anaheim, which at that time was a relatively unpopulated expanse dominated by vast orange and lemon groves, interspersed with small farms and ranches.

Between 1921 and 1950, Boysen dedicated his professional life to serving as the Anaheim City Parks superintendent. His persistent efforts bore fruit (ha) in 1923 when his hybrid successfully grafted and flourished. However, while Boysen was successful in creating the berry, he faced challenges in cultivating it on a larger scale. Some years after his initial success, a near-fatal accident sidelined him, and his boysenberry plants began to wither, seemingly destined for obscurity.

Enter Walter Knott, another farmer with an insatiable curiosity and a healthy dose of ambition,. Upon discovering that Boysen had given up his cultivation experiments and sold his property, Knott went in search of the delicious berry. Accompanied by George M. Darrow of the USDA, the duo ventured to Boysen’s former farm. There, amidst an overgrowth of weeds, they discovered a few withering vines clinging to life. Determined to give these vines a new lease on life, they carefully relocated them to Knott’s farm in Buena Park, California. With diligent care and attention, Knott revived these plants, enabling them to thrive and produce fruit once again. As a result, Walter Knott became the pioneering figure in the commercial cultivation of the berry in Southern California. Knott learned about Boysen’s creation and, understanding its potential, sought out the remaining withered vines.

With a blend of horticultural expertise and an entrepreneur’s spirit, Knott not only rescued the dying boysenberry vines but also began cultivating and selling the berries on his own farm, which was located in Buena Park, California.

As the berries grew in popularity, so did Knott’s business. By the 1940s, Knott’s farm had transformed into a bustling destination, offering visitors not just the chance to buy fresh boysenberries and boysenberry products, but also to experience the charm of a recreated ghost town and other attractions. As the business evolved, it gave birth to what is now known as Knott’s Berry Farm, one of the most popular amusement parks in Southern California.

Today, it’s a full-blown amusement park with high-speed roller coasters like GhostRider, a massive wooden coaster, and Silver Bullet, a looping steel ride that twists over the park’s lake. The Timber Mountain Log Ride, one of the park’s most beloved attractions, simulates a journey through a 19th-century logging camp, complete with animatronic lumberjacks and sawmills. It’s a tribute to the massive wooden flumes that loggers once built to move timber from deep in the forest down to the mills and markets. One of the largest of these flumes was at Converse Basin, once home to the biggest contiguous grove of giant sequoias on Earth. That same area became the site of one of the most devastating logging operations in American history, where thousands of ancient sequoias—some millenia old—were cut down in the rush to harvest timber. We did a story about it you can read here. It’s a sobering reminder of how quickly early California’s natural wonders were exploited in the name of progress.

But back to Boysenberries. Let’s finish this one up, shall we?

Biologically, the boysenberry is a testament to the wonders of plant hybridization, showcasing the ability to combine distinct plant species to produce something entirely new. And tasty. The boysenberry isn’t just a product of careful crossbreeding, it’s a classic California story of perseverance, partnership, and a dose of luck. Sunshine helps too. It’s about how a nearly forgotten berry was saved from obscurity by two determined farmers and went on to become a symbol of California itself, thanks in part to the magic of an amusement park.

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Einstein in Pasadena: Three Wonderful Winters in Paradise

Einstein at the Santa Barbara home of Caltech trustee Ben Meyer on Feb. 6, 1933.
(The Caltech Archives)

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“Here in Pasadena, it is like Paradise. Always sunshine and clear air, gardens with palms and pepper trees and friendly people who smile at one and ask for autographs.” – Albert Einstein (U.S. Travel Diary, 1930-31, p. 28)

Albert Einstein is often associated with Princeton, where he spent his later years as a towering intellectual figure, and with Switzerland, where he worked as a young patent clerk in Bern. It was in that spartan, dimly lit office, far from the great universities of the time, that Einstein quietly transformed the world. In 1905, his annus mirabilis or “miracle year,” he published a series of four groundbreaking papers that upended physics and reshaped humanity’s understanding of space, time, and matter. With his insights into the photoelectric effect, Brownian motion, special relativity, and the equivalence of mass and energy (remember E=mc²?), he not only laid the foundation for quantum mechanics and modern physics but also set in motion technological revolutions that continue to shape the future. Pretty good for a guy who was just 26.

Albert Einstein spent his later years as a world-famous scientist traveling the globe and drawing crowds wherever he went. His letters and travel diaries show how much he loved exploring new places, whether it was the mountains of Switzerland, the temples of Japan, or the intellectual circles of his native Germany. In 1922, while on his way to accept the Nobel Prize, he and his wife, Elsa, arrived in Japan for a six-week tour, visiting Tokyo, Kyoto, and Osaka.

But of all the places he visited, one city stood out for him in particular. Pasadena, with its warm weather, lively culture, and, most importantly, its reputation as a scientific hub, had a deep personal appeal to Einstein. He visited Pasadena during the winters of 1931, 1932, and 1933, each time staying for approximately two to three months. These stays were longer than many of his other travels, giving him time to fully immerse himself in the city. He spent time at Caltech, exchanging ideas with some of the brightest minds in physics, and fully embraced the California experience, rubbing elbows with Hollywood stars (Charlie Chapman among them), watching the Rose Parade, and even tutoring local kids. Einstein may have only been a visitor, but his time in Pasadena underscores how deeply rooted science was in the city then, and how strongly that legacy endures today. Pasadena remains one of the rare places in the country where scientific inquiry and creative spirit continue to thrive side by side. Pasadena was among the earliest cities to get an Apple Store, with its Old Pasadena location opening in 2003.

Einstein’s residence at 707 South Oakland Avenue in Pasadena, where he stayed his first winter in California (CalTech Archives)

Few scientists have received the public adulation that Einstein did during his winter stays in Pasadena. As a hobbyist violinist, he engaged in one-on-one performances with the conductor of the Los Angeles Philharmonic. Local artists not only painted his image and cast him in bronze but also transformed him into a puppet figure. Frank J. Callier, a renowned violin craftsman, etched Einstein’s name into a specially carved bow and case.

During his first winter of residence in 1931, Einstein lived in a bungalow at 707 South Oakland Avenue. During the following two winters, he resided at Caltech’s faculty club, the Athenaeum, a faculty and private social club that is still there today.

Yet, the FBI was keeping a watchful eye on Einstein as well. He was one of just four German intellectuals, including Wilhelm Foerster, Georg Nicolai, and Otto Buek, to sign a pacifist manifesto opposing Germany’s entry into World War I. Later, Einstein aligned himself with Labor Zionism, a movement that supported Jewish cultural and educational development in Palestine, but he opposed the formation of a conventional Jewish state, instead calling for a peaceful, binational arrangement between Jews and Arabs.

In front of the Athenaeum Faculty Club, Caltech, 1932.
*(Courtesy of the Caltech Archives.*)

After his annus mirabilis in 1905, Einstein’s influence grew rapidly. In 1919, his theory of relativity was confirmed during a solar eclipse by the English astronomer Sir Arthur Eddington. The announcement to the Royal Society made Einstein an overnight sensation among the general public, and in 1922, he was awarded the 1921 Nobel Prize in Physics. While teaching at the University of Berlin in 1930, Arthur H. Fleming, a lumber magnate and president of Caltech’s board, successfully persuaded him to visit the university during the winter. The visit was intended to remain a secret, but Einstein’s own travel arrangements inadvertently made it public knowledge.

Einstein speaking at the dedication of the Pasadena Junior College (now PCC) astronomy building, February 1931.
(*Courtesy of the Caltech Archives)*

After arriving in San Diego on New Year’s Eve 1930, following a month-long journey on the passenger ship Belgenland, Einstein was swarmed by reporters and photographers. He and his second wife, Elsa, were greeted with cheers and Christmas carols. Fleming then drove them to Pasadena, where they settled into the bungalow on S Oakland Ave.

Albert Einstein and his violin (Caltech Archives)

During their first California stay, the Einsteins attended Charlie Chaplin’s film premiere and were guests at his Beverly Hills home. “Here in Pasadena, it is like Paradise,” Einstein wrote in a letter. He also visited the Mt. Wilson Observatory high in the San Gabriel Mountains. Einstein’s intellectual curiosity extended far beyond his scientific endeavors, leading him to explore the Huntington Library in San Marino, delighting in its rich collections. At the Montecito home of fellow scientist Ludwig Kast, he found comfort in being treated more as a tourist than a celebrity, relishing a brief respite from the spotlight.

In Palm Springs, Einstein relaxed at the winter estate of renowned New York attorney and human rights advocate Samuel Untermeyer. He also embarked on a unique adventure to the date ranch of King Gillette, the razor blade tycoon, where he left with a crate of dates and an intriguing observation. He noted that female date trees thrived with nurturing care, while male trees fared better in tough condition: “I discovered that date trees, the female, or negative, flourished under coddling and care, but in adverse conditions the male, or positive trees, succeeded best,” he said in a 1933 interview.

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Not exactly relativity, but a curiosity-driven insight reflecting his ceaseless fascination with the world.

During his three winters in Pasadena, Einstein’s presence was a source of intrigue and inspiration. Students at Caltech were treated to the sight of the disheveled-haired genius pedaling around campus on a bicycle, launching paper airplanes from balconies, and even engaging in a heated debate with the stern Caltech president and Nobel laureate, Robert A. Millikan, on the steps of Throop Hall. Precisely what they debated remains a mystery. (Maybe something about the dates?)

Einstein with Robert A. Millikan, a prominent physicist who served as the first president of Caltech from 1921 to 1945 and won the Nobel Prize in Physics in 1923. (*Courtesy of the Caltech Archives.*)

During his final winter in California, a near-accident led the couple to move into Caltech’s Athenaeum. His suite, No. 20, was marked with a distinctive mahogany door, a personal touch from his sponsor, Fleming. In 1933, as Nazi power intensified in Germany, Einstein began searching for a safe place to continue his work. Although Caltech made an offer, it was Princeton University‘s proposal that ultimately won him over. Einstein relocated to Princeton that same year, where he played a significant role in the development of the Institute for Advanced Study and remained there until his death in 1955.

Suite No. 20, Einstein’s mahogany door at the Caltech Athenaeum

Today, a large collection of Einstein’s papers are part of the Einstein Papers Project at Caltech. And Einstein’s suite at Caltech’s Athenaeum, still displaying the mahogany door, serves as a physical reminder of his visits.

During his third and final visit to Caltech in 1933, Hitler rose to power as Chancellor of Germany. Realizing that, as a Jew, he could not safely return home, Einstein lingered in Pasadena a little longer before traveling on to Belgium and eventually Princeton, where he received tenure. He never returned to Germany, or to Pasadena. Yet he often spoke fondly of the California sunshine, which he missed, and in its own way, the sunshine seemed to miss him too.

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