The drive from Los Angeles north along Highway 395 towards Mammoth Lakes is one of the great road trips in all of California. The drive offers breathtaking views of the Sierra Nevada mountain range, the (much older) White Mountains, the vibrantly picturesque Owens Valley, and the Mojave Desert (which, let’s face it, is kinda boring, especially if you’ve done the drive as many times as I have). The highway winds its way through a diverse range of geological and historical features, making it an ideal destination for road trippers, history buffs, and outdoor enthusiasts alike.
One of the highway’s more magnificent sights is observable when making a left turn up Whitney Portal Road in Lone Pine. Just a few miles up, you will find the magnificent Alabama Hills, a range of hills located in the Owens Valley near the main entrance to Mount Whitney. The hills are known for their unique geological formations, including massive rounded boulders and natural arches, and their rich history and cultural significance.
Scene from Iron Man with Robert Downey Jr. The Alabama Hills stood in for Afghanistan.
The hills are world famous not just for their scenic beauty and appeal to photographers. They have also appeared in more than 700 movie and television productions, including some of the most famous and iconic Westerns ever made. The first film made there was the silent 1920 western โThe Round Up,โ starring Roscoe โFattyโ Arbuckle.
More recently, several major films made use of the Alabama Hills as exotic backdrops. In addition to Iron Man (2008), where Tony Stark crash-lands after escaping captivity, and Gladiator (2000), where the rugged landscape serves as part of the journey for Maximus, the Alabama Hills has also appeared in:
The Lone Ranger (2013) โ The dramatic landscape contributes to the filmโs adventurous, untamed feel.
Django Unchained (2012) โ Here, the rocky outcrops stand in for the American West, giving a distinctive backdrop to Quentin Tarantinoโs Western.
Tremors (1990) โ The Hillsโ remote, desolate look is a perfect setting for this cult classic monster movie.
Star Trek V: The Final Frontier (1989) โ Alabama Hills doubles as alien terrain in this installment of the sci-fi series.
Geologically, the Alabama Hills are primarily made up of biotite monzogranite, an intrusive igneous rock, rather than metamorphic rock. This type of granite was formed from magma that cooled slowly beneath the Earth’s surface, allowing large crystals of quartz, feldspar, and biotite to develop. The landscape, featuring spherical, egg-shaped, teardrop forms, and natural arches, was sculpted over millions of years through a combination of chemical weathering and wind erosion.
California barrel cactus or desert barrel cactus Ferocactus cylindraceus at the Alabama Hills (Erik Olsen)
One of the most striking aspects of the Alabama Hills is the sharp contrast they present with the neighboring glacially carved ridges of the Sierra Nevada. There are almost 10,000 feet of vertical difference between Mount Whitneyโs majestic granite peaks and the rolling boulders of the Alabama Hills. The Sierraโs jagged, ice-carved peaks seem to rise abruptly from the gentle, rounded contours of the hills. Geologically, both landforms consist of the same granitic rock, but they have been shaped by very different forces. While glaciers carved the high peaks of the Sierra Nevada, creating sharp ridges and deep valleys, the Alabama Hills experienced a slower, more gradual transformation. Erosion by wind, rain, and temperature changes slowly sculpted the monzogranite, creating the unique and surreal formations we see today.
While the geological history of the Alabama Hills is well known, its biology is equally fascinating. At first glance, the landscape may seem inhospitable to life, but a closer inspection reveals a surprisingly diverse ecosystem adapted to the harsh conditions. In recent years, new studies have shed light on the resilience and adaptation strategies of plants and animals in this region.
The Alabama Hills are home to a variety of plant species, many of which have evolved to survive in the dry, rocky soil. Sagebrush, saltbush, and other desert plants dominate the landscape, while prickly cacti add a distinct desert charm. One particularly intriguing plant is Atriplex hymenelytra, commonly known as desert holly, which has adapted to the high-salinity soil by developing silvery leaves that reflect sunlight, reducing water loss and protecting the plant from extreme temperatures.
Atriplex hymenelytra, Desert holly.
Wildlife, too, has found ways to thrive in this rugged terrain. The Alabama Hills are home to numerous bird species, reptiles, and small mammals. Species like the western fence lizard, desert cottontail, and even mountain lions are part of this surprisingly vibrant ecosystem. Birdwatchers can often spot red-tailed hawks, ravens, and sometimes even golden eagles soaring above the hills, taking advantage of the thermal updrafts created by the warm rock surfaces.
Recent studies have added to our understanding of the Alabama Hillsโ unique environment. One particularly interesting research project conducted by ecologists focuses on the role of cryptobiotic soil crustsโthin layers of lichens, mosses, and bacteria that live on the surface of desert soils. These crusts play a critical role in preventing erosion and retaining moisture in arid environments like the Alabama Hills. The study revealed that these soil crusts are more widespread than previously thought, and their destruction by human activity, such as off-road vehicle use, could have significant ecological consequences.
Alabama Hills vegetation (Erik Olsen)
Cryptobiotic crusts act as a protective cover on desert soils, anchoring loose particles and reducing susceptibility to wind and water erosion. When these crusts are damaged, the soil is left vulnerable to erosion, which can lead to large-scale soil loss. This erosion depletes the land of nutrients, reduces soil fertility, and diminishes its ability to support native vegetation.
Additionally, geologists continue to study the impact of erosion and weathering on the Alabama Hillsโ distinctive rock formations. Advances in remote sensing technology have allowed scientists to map the regionโs geological features in more detail than ever before, providing new insights into how these formations developed and how they are likely to change in the future.
The hills were (controversially) named after the CSS Alabama, a Confederate warship that operated during the American Civil War. The name was given to the hills by a group of Confederate sympathizers who were prospecting in the area in the 1860s. Several groups have launched campaigns to change the name to erase its connection with Southern slavery.
Alabama Hills (Erik Olsen)
In addition to their geological and historical importance, the Alabama Hills are also important for their recreational opportunities. The hills offer a variety of outdoor activities such as hiking, rock climbing, and photography. The range of hills is also a popular spot for stargazers and astro-photographers, due to the relatively low light pollution in the region.
The Alabama Hills are a must-see destination for anyone interested in geology, history, or outdoor activities in California.
Beneath the seemingly calm and serene landscape of the Eastern Sierra in California lies one of the planet’s most explosive features โ a volcanic giant that has been slumbering for thousands of years. It’s the Long Valley Caldera, a vast geological structure that stands as a testament to one of the most violent volcanic eruptions in Earth’s recent history.
The caldera sits in the Owens Valley, situated between the towering peaks of the Sierra and the older, but majestic White Mountains. It is renowned globally for its volcanic history. Situated about 3000 miles north of Los Angeles, the Long Valley Caldera was born around 760,000 years ago during a cataclysmic eruption that ejected an estimated 150 cubic miles of material. It was a massive eruption, one of the largest in North American history. To put this into perspective, the 1980 eruption of Mount St. Helens released just about 0.3 cubic miles of material, indicating the colossal magnitude of the Long Valley eruption.
The aftermath of this gigantic eruption formed a vast depression, or caldera, measuring about 200 square miles. This is not a necessarily a unique event in Earth’s history, as there are many similar calderas worldwide, one of the largest in the world being in Yellowstone National Park. What makes the Long Valley Caldera distinctive is the incredible geothermal activity that continues beneath the surface, reminding us of the latent power it holds.
Inside the caldera, one discovers a geological wonderland that resembles a surreal moonscape, with its otherworldly terrain, bizarre formations, and strikingly barren features. Hot springs and fumaroles, areas where volcanic gases escape from the ground, are scattered across the area. This dynamic geology can be seen at nearby Mammoth Mountain itself, a lava dome complex located on the caldera’s rim. The area also holds an intricate hydrothermal system, with ground temperatures at depth reaching boiling point and more. On April 6, 2006, three members of the Mammoth Mountain ski patrol tragically lost their lives after falling into a volcanic fumarole near the summit. The incident happened while they were conducting safety operations to secure a snow-covered geothermal vent following an unprecedented snowfall.
Over the next several hundred thousand years, the Long Valley Caldera experienced a series of volcanic eruptions, including the formation of several domes and lava flows. The most recent eruption occurred about 600 years ago, creating the Inyo Craters, a group of small cinder cones located on the western edge of the caldera. If you spend much time up in the Eastern Sierra, you will discover that there are fascinating volcanic features everywhere.
One of the most notable features of the Long Valley Caldera is the presence of a magma chamber beneath the caldera floor, located at a depth of about 5 to 10 kilometers (3 to 6 miles), with deeper zones of partially molten rock extending down to 20-30 kilometers (12-18 miles). The magma chamber is responsible for the ongoing geothermal activity in the area, including hot springs and geysers, such as the famous Mono Lake Tufa State Natural Reserve.
The Long Valley Caldera is one of the most active volcanic sites in the United States. Here, the Owens River flows through it, winding south through Owens Valley.(Erik Olsen)
Volcanism in the region is relatively recent, and it remains extremely active today. Upon entering the town of Mammoth Lakes, there is a small, but steep rise to the East. This area, called the Resurgent Dome, has also uplifted about 80 cm (about 2.5 feet) since 1980.
The current tranquillity of the Long Valley Caldera might deceive the casual observer into thinking that it poses no danger. This assumption is not entirely true. The United States Geological Survey (USGS) closely monitors the caldera due to its high volcanic risk.
In 1980, the region experienced a swarm of strong earthquakes, arousing concern among geologists about possible renewed volcanic activity. Since then, seismic activities have been routinely observed, along with ground deformation โ indications that magma might be accumulating underneath. Scientists recently tried to take the temperature of that lava. Here is a more detailed discussion of Long Valley Calderaโs deep and shallow hydrothermal systems.
Sierra reflected in Little Alkali Lake near the Long Valley Caldera (Erik Olsen)
The Long Valley Caldera and Mammoth Mountain are classified as “High Threat” volcanoes by the USGS. The primary concerns are volcanic eruptions and the release of harmful gases, such as carbon dioxide, from the ground. At Horseshoe Lake, near Mammoth Mountain, high concentrations of carbon dioxide escaping from the soil have led to tree die-offs, as the gas displaces oxygen in the root zone. Such an eruption could disrupt local communities, cause significant economic impact due to damaged infrastructure, and affect air travel by releasing ash clouds.
The scenario might seem dire, but it’s crucial to understand that the chances of a massive eruption like the one 760,000 years ago are extremely low. Most potential future eruptions are likely to be smaller events, possibly similar to those experienced at the Mammoth Mountain area.
In addition to its volcanic history, Owens Valley also played an important role in the history of California. In the late 19th and early 20th centuries, the valley was the site of a major water rights dispute between the city of Los Angeles and local farmers and ranchers. The city ultimately won the dispute, and the water from the Owens River was used to fuel the growth of Los Angeles, leading to the displacement of many local residents.
The Long Valley Caldera continues to be a focal point for scientific research and natural wonder. Ongoing studies are uncovering new details about its volcanic past, current geothermal activity, and future potential for eruption. As we deepen our understanding of this dynamic landscape, we also gain valuable insights into the natural processes that shape our world and the potential impacts of climate change. It’s amazing to think that there is so much fascinating geologic activity right here in California, so close to LA. Whether through scientific discovery or personal exploration, the Long Valley Caldera offers a unique window into the powerful forces that govern our planet.
It started by asking one of the biggest questions of them all: how old is the earth?
One might think that we’ve known the answer to this question for a long time, but the truth is that a definitive age for our planet was not established until 1953, and it happened right here in California.
Some of the earliest estimates of the earth’s age were derived from the Bible. Religious scholars centuries ago did some simple math, synthesizing a number of passages of Biblical scripture and calculated that the time to their present-day from the story of Genesis was around 6,000 years. That must have seemed like a really long time to people back then.
Of course, once science got involved, the estimated age changed dramatically, but even into the 18th century, people’s sense of geologic time was still on human scales, largely incapable of comprehending an age into the billions of years. In 1779, the Comte du Buffon tried to obtain a value for the age of Earth using an experiment: He created a small globe that resembled Earth in composition and then measured its rate of cooling. His conclusion: Earth was about 75,000 years old.
But in 1907, scientists developed the technique of radiometric dating, allowing scientists to compare the amount of uranium in rock with the amount of lead, the radioactive decay byproduct of uranium. If there was more lead in a rock, then there was less uranium, and thus the rock was determined to be older. Using this technique in 1913, British geologist Arthur Holmes put the Earthโs age at about 1.6 billion years, and in 1947, he pushed the age to about 3.4 billion years. Not bad. That was the (mostly) accepted figure when geochemist Clair Patterson arrived at the California Institute of Technology in Pasadena from the University of Chicago in 1952. (Radiometric dating remains today the predominant way geologists measure the age of rocks.)
By employing a much more precise methodology, and using samples from the Canyon Diablo meteorite, Patterson was able to place the creation of the solar system, and its planetary bodies such as the earth, at around 4.6 billion years. (It is assumed that the meteorite formed at the same time as the rest of the solar system, including Earth). Subsequent studies have confirmed this number and it remains the accepted age of our planet.
Patterson’s discovery and the techniques he developed to extract and measure lead isotopes led one Caltech colleague to call his efforts “one of the most remarkable achievements in the whole field of geochemistry.”
But Patterson was not done.
In the course of his work on lead isotopes, Patterson began to realize that lead was far more prevalent in the environment that people imagined. In the experiments he was doing at Caltech, lead was everywhere.
Clair Patterson at CalTech (Courtesy of the Archives, California Institute of Technology)
โThere was lead there that didnโt belong there,โ Patterson recalled in a CalTech oral history. โMore than there was supposed to be. Where did it come from?โ
Patterson’s discovery was “one of the most remarkable achievements in the whole field of geochemistry.”
Barclay Kamb, California Institute of Technology
Patterson was flummoxed by the large amounts of environmental lead he was seeing in his experiments. It seemed to be everywhere: in the water, air and in people’s hair, skin and blood. Figuring out why this was the case took him the rest of his career.
He found it so hard to get reliable measurements for his earth’s age experiments that he built one of the first scientific “clean rooms”, now an indispensable part of many scientific disciplines, and a precursor to the ultra-clean semiconductor fabrication plants (so-called “fabs”) where microprocessor chips are made. In fact, at that time, Patterson’s lab was the cleanest laboratory in the world.
On the occasion of Clair Patterson receiving the Tyler Prize. The Tyler Prize is awarded for environmental achievement. (Courtesy of the Archives, California Institute of Technology)
To better understand this puzzle, Patterson turned to the oceans, and what he found astonished him. He knew that if he compared the lead levels in shallow and deep water, he could determine how oceanic lead had changed over time. In his experiments, he discovered that in the ocean’s oldest columns of water, down deep, there was little lead, but towards the surface, where younger water circulates, lead values spiked by 20 times.
Then, going back millions of years, he analyzed microscopic plant and animal life from deep sediments and discovered that they contained 1/10 to 1/100th the amount of lead found at the time around the globe.
Smog in Los Angeles in 1970. (Courtesy of UCLA Library Special Collections – Los Angeles Times Photographic Archive)
He decided to look in places far from industrial centers, ice caves in Greenland and Antarctica, where he would be able to see clearly how much lead was in the environment many years ago. He was able to show a dramatic increase in environmental lead beginning with the start of lead smelting in Greek and Roman times. Historians long ago documented the vast amounts of lead that were mined in Rome. Lead pipes connected Roman homes, filled up bathtubs and fountains and carried water from town to town. Many Romans knew of lead’s dangers, but little was done. Rome, we all know, collapsed. Jean David C. Boulakia, writing in the American Journal of Archaeology, said: โThe uses of lead were so extensive that lead poisoning, plumbism, has sometimes been given as one of the causes of the degeneracy of Roman citizens. Perhaps, after contributing to the rise of the Empire, lead helped to precipitate its fall.โ
In his Greenland work, Patterson’s data showed a โ200- or 300-fold increaseโ in lead from the 1700s to the present day; and, most astonishing, the largest concentrations occurred only in the last three decades. Were we, like the Romans, perhaps on the brink of an environmental calamity that could hasten the end of our civilization? Not if Patterson could help it.
California Institute of Technology. Credit: Erik Olsen
That may be far too grandiose and speculative, but there was no doubting that there was so much more lead in the modern world, and it seemed to have appeared only recently. But why? And how?
In a Eureka moment, Patterson realized that the time frame of atmospheric lead’s rise he was seeing in his samples seemed to correlate perfectly with the advent of the automobile, and, more specifically, with the advent of leaded gasoline.
Leaded gas became a thing in the 1920s. Previously, car engines were plagued by a loud knocking sound made when pockets of air and fuel prematurely exploded inside an internal combustion engine. The effect also dramatically reduced the engine’s efficiency. Automobile companies, seeking to get rid of the noise, discovered that by adding tetraethyl lead to gasoline, they could stop the knocking sound, and so-called Ethyl gasoline was born. “Fill her up with Ethyl,” people used to say when pulling up to the pump.
Despite what the Romans may have known about lead, it was still an immensely popular material. It was widely used in plumbing well into the 20th century as well as in paints and various industrial products. But there was little action taken to remove lead from our daily lives. The lead in a pipe or wall paint is one thing (hey, don’t eat it!), but pervasive lead in our air and water is something different.
After World War I, every household wanted a car and the auto sales began to explode. Cars were perhaps the most practical invention of the early 20th century. They changed everything: roads, cities, work-life and travel. And no one wanted their cars to make that infernal racket. So the lead additive industry boomed, too. By the 1960s, leaded gasoline accounted for 90% of all fuel sold worldwide.
But there signs even then that something was wrong with lead.
A New York Times story going back to 1924 documented how one man was killed and another driven insane by inhaling gases released in the production of the tetraethyl lead at the Bayway plant of the Standard Oil Company at Elizabeth, N.J. Many more cases of lead poisoning were documented in ensuing years, with studies showing that it not only leads to physical illness but also to serious mental problems and lower IQs. No one, however, was drawing the connection between all the lead being pumped into the air by automobiles and the potential health impacts. Patterson saw the connection.
Ford Model T. Credit: Harry Shipler
When Patterson published his findings in 1963, he was met with both applause and derision. The billion-dollar oil and gas industry fought his ideas vigorously, trying to impugn his methods and his character. They even tried to pay him off to study something else. But it soon became apparent that Patterson was right. Patterson and other health officials realized that If nothing was done, the result could be a global health crisis that could end up causing millions of human deaths. Perhaps the decline of civilization itself.
Patterson was called before Congress to testify on his findings, and while his arguments made little traction, they caught the attention of the nascent environmental movement in America, which had largely come into being as a result of Rachel Carson’s explosive 1962 book Silent Spring, which documented the decline in bird and other wildlife as a result of the spraying of DDT for mosquito control. People were now alert to poisons in the environment, and they’d come to realize that some of the industrial giants that were the foundation of our economy were also having serious impacts on the planet’s health.
Downtown Los Angeles today. (Erik Olsen)
Patterson was unrelenting in making his case, but he still faced serious opposition from the Ethyl companies and from Detroit. The government took half-hearted measures to address the problem. The EPA suggested reducing lead in gasoline step by step, to 60 to 65 percent by 1977. This enraged industry, but also Patterson, who felt that wasn’t nearly enough. Industry sued and the case to the courts. Meanwhile, Patterson continued his research, collecting samples around Yosemite, which showed definitely that the large rise in atmospheric lead was new and it was coming from the cities (in this case, nearby San Francisco and Los Angeles). He analyzed human remains from Egyptian mummies and Peruvian graves and found they contained far less lead than modern bones, nearly 600 times less.
Years would pass with more hearings, more experiments, and the question of whether the EPA should regulate leaded gas more heavily went to U.S. Court of Appeals. The EPA won, 5-4. โManโs ability to alter his environment,โ the court ruled, โhas developed far more rapidly than his ability to foresee with certainty the effects of his alterations.โ
The Clean Air Act of 1970 initiated the development of national air-quality standards, including emission controls on cars.
Drone over Los Angeles. (Credit: Erik Olsen)
In 1976, the EPA’s new rules went into effect and the results were almost immediate: environmental lead plummeted. The numbers continued to plummet as lead was further banned as a gasoline additive and from other products like canned seafood (lead was used as a sealant). Amazingly, there was still tremendous denial within American industry.
Although the use of leaded gas declined dramatically beginning with the Clear Air Act, it wasn’t until 1986, when the EPA called for a near ban of leaded gasoline that we seemed to finally be close to ridding ourselves of the scourge of atmospheric lead. With the amendment of the Clean Air Act four years later, it became unlawful for leaded gasoline to be sold at all at service stations beginning December 31, 1995. Patterson died just three weeks earlier at the age of 73.
Clair Patterson is a name that few people know today, yet his work not only changed our understanding of the earth itself, but also likely saved millions of lives. When Patterson was finally accepted into the National Academy of Science in 1987, Barclay Kamb, a Caltech colleague, summed his career up thusly: “His thinking and imagination are so far ahead of the times that he has often gone misunderstood and unappreciated for years, until his colleagues finally caught up and realized he was right.”
Clair Patterson is one of the most unsung of the great 20th-century scientists, and his name deserves to be better known.
Imagine a world lost in deep time. The atmosphere held less oxygen than at any point since the Cambrian explosion, and the land was dominated by iconic dinosaurs like Allosaurus, Brachiosaurus, Archaeopteryx, and Stegosaurus. It was an era poised for a new type of plant life that would come to define the landscapeโcycads. While Jurassic forests are often depicted as dense with ferns, with their coiled fronds and lush foliage, these plants were not the sole stars of the ancient botanical world.
The true giants of the Jurassic flora were the cycads, seed-bearing plants with stout, woody trunks and crowns of stiff, feather-like evergreen leaves. In fact, the Jurassic is often referred to as the “Age of Cycads”. Cycads thrived during this period, approximately 280 to 145 million years ago, as evidenced by abundant fossils. These resilient plants, which once dominated prehistoric landscapes, have remarkably endured the passage of time, remaining largely unchanged (although this is now disputed) and offering a living glimpse into a world ruled by dinosaurs.
One of the most remarkable features of cycads is the toughness of their leaves. Touch them with your fingers. They have a much greater stiffness than most other plants. Cycad leaves are thick, leathery, and often waxy to the touch, with a heavy cuticle, a protective outer layer that makes them remarkably durable. Unlike the soft, broad leaves of many modern plants, cycad fronds are built to withstand intense sunlight, conserve water in dry environments, and deter herbivores. The stiff, sometimes spiny edges of the leaves would have made them a difficult meal, offering a critical evolutionary advantage during a time when giant plant-eating dinosaurs roamed the Earth.
Cycad leaves are quite hard and resistant to insects. Evidence shows that dinosaurs ate cycad leaves regularly. (Photo: Erik Olsen)
Despite their formidable defenses, evidence shows that dinosaurs did in fact eat cycads. Fossilized dinosaur dung, known as coprolites, has been found containing fragments of cycad tissues and pollen. Some herbivorous dinosaurs like Stegosaurus and Ankylosaurus are believed to have browsed on cycads, along with other tough plants of the Mesozoic landscape. These animals likely evolved strong jaws and specialized teeth capable of grinding down fibrous, sturdy plant material. In turn, the resilience of cycad leaves helped the plants survive repeated grazing and harsh environmental stresses, allowing them to persist across millions of years into the present day. FYI: Flowering plants, or angiosperms, only came into being during the late reign of the dinosaurs, during the Cretaceous Period (145โ66 million years ago).
Recent fossil discoveries are also reshaping how scientists view cycads. In 2023, researchers uncovered an 80-million-year-old fossilized cycad cone in Silverado Canyon, California, revealing that ancient cycads were far more diverse than their modern descendants. Previously thought to be “living fossils” that had remained largely unchanged since the dinosaur era, cycads now appear to have undergone significant evolutionary changes during the Cretaceous period. The find, assigned to a new genus called Skyttegaardia, highlights how much more dynamic and complex cycad history may be than once believed.
Cycads are cool to look at and examine closely, and it turns out that one of the best places in the United States to see actual living cycads in Descanso Gardens in La Canada Flintridge. But how’d they get there?
In 2014, La Canada Flintridge residents Katia and Frederick Elsea called the city’s Descanso Gardens with an odd proposal: would the famous horticultural center take their collection of over 180 rare cycads, a fern-like plant from the days of the dinosaurs?
The garden said yes, and now those plants are part of an effort to recreate a prehistoric landscape. Sixty-six species were transplanted from the Elsea collection to the garden’s Ancient Forest. Cycads form the heart of the forest, but there are also Tree ferns, with feathery fronds, and Ginkgo biloba, known for its distinctive fan-shaped leaves. This area, dedicated to showcasing some of the worldโs oldest and most primitive plant species, highlights the remarkable resilience and beauty of plants that have survived for millions of years.
Cycads are a type of gymnosperm. Gymnosperms are a group of seed-producing plants that includes cycads, conifers, ginkgoes, and gnetophytes. Unlike angiosperms (flowering plants), gymnosperms do not produce flowers or fruits; instead, their seeds are exposed or “naked,” typically held in cones or on the surface of scales. They also have a unique structure, with a large crown of stiff, fern-like leaves arising from a stout trunk. They may look like palms or ferns, but they are actually their own distinct group of plants, with over 300 species in the world.
In contrast, flowering plants have been far more evolutionary successful. Angiosperms dominate most of the planetโs ecosystems, with an estimated 300,000 species, vastly outnumbering the gymnosperms. Their ability to form flowers and fruits has allowed them to diversify into nearly every terrestrial habitat on Earth.
Cycad cone (Dioon edule) at Descanso Gardens. Built for an ancient world: Cycad cones are among the largest and oldest seed structures on Earth, evolving long before the first flower bloomed. Their rugged design helped cycads thrive alongside dinosaurs โ and survive into the modern day. (Erik Olsen)
The cycads at Descanso Gardens come from all over the globe, including Africa, Australia, and the Americas. They are part of the International Palm Society’s Cycad Collection, one of the largest and most diverse collections of cycads in the world. The collection at Descanso Gardens features over 200 cycad specimens, including rare and endangered species.
One of the fascinating plants showcased in the garden is the Sago Palm (not actually a palm), Cycas revoluta, a dioecious species, meaning it has separate male and female plants. Male Sago Palms produce multiple cones at their center, releasing pollen that insects carry to the female plants. The female plants develop a single, large cone in the center, which contains seeds. When the pollen fertilizes these seeds, a new plant can grow, continuing the cycle of this ancient species.
Another fitting addition to the Ancient Forest is the monkey puzzle tree, Araucaria araucana. This small, spiky tree is entirely covered with sharp, scale-like leaves that resemble thick, dense pine needles but are much tougher. Known as one of the earliest living conifers, the monkey puzzle tree stands as a living relic from the time when these ancient trees dominated prehistoric landscapes.
Cycads are fascinating not just for their ancient history, but also for their unique biology. Unlike most plants, which have a single apical meristem (a region of cell division at the growing tip), cycads have multiple meristems, which allows them to produce new leaves even if the growing tip is damaged. They also have a symbiotic relationship with cyanobacteria, which live in their roots and fix nitrogen from the air, allowing the plant to grow in nutrient-poor soils.
Despite their ancient origins, cycads are facing modern-day threats. Many species are endangered due to habitat loss and over-collection for the horticultural trade. The cycad collection at Descanso Gardens is not just a beautiful display, but also an important conservation effort to preserve these ancient plants for future generations.
Cycad at Descanso Gardens (Erik Olsen)
At Descanso Gardens, the cycads have been planted according to the geographic region where they originate: Africa, Asia, Madagascar, Australia and Mexico. Some of the plants no longer exist in the wild.
“For a really long time, this was plant life on Earth,” the former director, David R. Brown told the Los Angeles Times. “This helps remind me that, for as self-absorbed as we are often, we’re but a part of a story that has been going on for a very, very long time.”
If you’d like to learn more about Descanso Gardens, it’s collections and how it came into being check out this episode of Lost LA. And if you’re interested in seeing the cycad collection at Descanso Gardens for yourself, try visiting during the late afternoon, when the golden hour light heightens the beauty and mystery of these cool plants.
We also have the world’s tallest and biggest trees.
Californiaโs giant sequoias and redwoods are natureโs skyscrapers. Redwoods exist in a few narrow pockets in Northern and Central California and into Southern Oregon. Sequoias live exclusively in small groves in central and Northern California with the largest grouping of them found in Sequoia National Park. These two tree species are wonders of the biological world. They are also some of the most magnificent things to behold on the planet.
I have personally climbed the Stagg tree for a New York Times story years ago (see photo below, that’s me). The Stagg is the fifth-largest sequoia in the world, and I will forever remember the experience…even though I chickened out a bit and didn’t make it to the top.
The author climbs the Stagg tree, the fifth-largest tree in the world. (Erik Olsen)
We are lucky to still have our big trees, what’s left of them, anyway. Just a century and a half ago, old-growth redwoods and sequoias were remarkably plentiful. People marveled at them, with some early settlers in California spinning unbelievable yarns of trees that rise from the earth “like a great tower“. They also saw them as a bounteous resource, ripe for plunder (mankind, sigh).
By 1900, nearly all of California’s tall trees had been purchased by private landowners who saw in the trees not beauty, but dollar signs. By 1950, an estimated 95% of Californiaโs original old-growth coast redwood forests had been logged, particularly along the coast from Big Sur to the Oregon border. For giant sequoias, about one-third of the original groves had been cut down, largely in the late 19th and early 20th centuries before protections were put in place.
Between 1892โ1918, theย Sanger Lumber Companyย logged the Converse Basin Grove, one of the largest stands of sequoia in the world, using ruinous clearcutting practices. They cut down 8,000 giant sequoias, some of them over 2000 years old, in a decade-long event that has been described as โthe greatest orgy of destructive lumbering in the history of the world.โ Only 60-100 large specimens in the grove survived. We wrote about that awful event here.
Today, only a small fraction of the old-growth coast redwood forest remains. The largest surviving stands of ancient coast redwoods are found in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, Redwood National and State Parks and Big Basin Redwoods State Park. It’s a wonder and a blessing that there are some left. And even then, they face an uncertain future thanks to climate change.
The remarkable size and height of these incredible organisms are largely due to California’s unique geography, though genetics likely play a significant role as well. Before diving into those factors, letโs take a moment to appreciate just how extraordinary these trees truly are.
Professional tree climber Rip Thompkins at the top of the Stagg tree, a giant sequoia. (Photo: Erik Olsen)
Sequoias and redwoods are closely related. Both belong to the cypress family (Cupressaceae). The primary difference between sequoias and redwoods is their habitat. Redwoods live near the moist, foggy coast, while sequoias thrive in higher-elevation subalpine zones of the Sierra Nevada. Redwoods are the tallest trees in the world. Sequoias are the biggest, if measured by circumference and volume. Redwoods can grow over 350 feet (107 m). The tallest tree in the world that we know of is called the Hyperion, and it tickles the sky at 379.7 feet (115.7 m). But it is quite possible another tree out there is taller than Hyperion. Redwoods are growing taller all the time, and many of the tallest trees we know of are in hard-to-reach areas in Northern California. Hyperion was only discovered about a decade ago, on August 25, 2006, by naturalists Chris Atkins and Michael Taylor. The exact location of Hyperion is a secret to protect the tree from damage.
The giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum) is Earthโs most massive living organism. While they do not grow as tall as redwoods – the average size of old-growth sequoias is from 125-275 feet – they can be much larger, with diameters of 20โ26 feet. Applying some basic Euclidean geometry (remember C = ฯd?), that means that the average giant sequoia has a circumference of over 85 feet.
Giant sequoia and man for scale (Photo: Erik Olsen)
Sequoias grow naturally along the western slope of the Sierra Nevada mountain range at an altitude of between 5,000 and 7,000 feet. They tend to grow further inland where the dry mountain air and elevation provide a comfortable environment for their cones to open and release seeds. They consume vast amounts of runoff from Sierra Nevada snowpack, which provides groves with thousands of gallons of water every day. But some say the majestic trees face an uncertain future. Many scientists are deeply concerned about how climate change might affect the grand trees, as drought conditions potentially deprive them of water to survive.
The General Sherman tree in Sequoia National Park. (Photo: Erik Olsen)
The world’s largest sequoia, thus the world’s largest tree, is General Sherman, in Sequoia National Park. General Sherman is 274.9 feet high and has a diameter at its base of 36 feet, giving it a circumference of 113 feet. Scientists estimate that General Sherman weighs some 642 tons, about as much as 107 elephants. The tree is thought to be 2,300 to 2,700 years old, making it one of the oldest living things on the planet. (To learn more about the oldest thing in the world, also in California, see our recent feature on Bristlecone pines.) Interesting fact: in 1978, a branch broke off General Sherman that was 150 feet long and nearly seven feet thick. Alone, it would have been one of the tallest trees east of the Mississippi.
Many sequoias exist on private land. Just last month, one of the largest remaining private stands of Sequoias in the world – the Alder Creek Grove of giant sequoias – was bought by the Save the Redwoods League conservation group for nearly $16 million. The money came from 8,500 contributions from individual donors around the world. The property includes both the Stagg Tree mentioned above and the Waterfall Tree, another gargantuan specimen. The grove is considered “the Crown Jewel” of remaining giant Sequoia forests.
Redwoods (Sequoia sempervirens), also known as coast redwoods, generally live about 500 to 700 years, although some have been documented at more than 2,000 years old. While wood from sequoias was found to be too brittle for most kinds of construction, the redwoods were a godsend for settlers and developers who desperately needed raw material to build homes and city buildings, to lay railroads, and erect bridge trestles. The construction and subsequent reconstruction of San Francisco following the 1906 earthquake heavily relied on redwood timber, prized for its strength, resilience, and natural resistance to decay, making it a foundational resource for the cityโs growth and recovery after the earthquake.
The timber companies who profited from redwoods only began to cut them down in earnest a bit over a century ago. But cut them down they did, with vigor and little regard for the preservation of such an amazing organism. After World War II, California experienced an unprecedented building boom, and the demand for redwood (and Douglas fir) soared. Coastal sawmills more than tripled between 1945 and 1948. By the end of the 1950s, only about 10 percent of the original two-million-acre redwood range remained untouched.
The author standing by burned sequoias. (Photo: Erik Olsen)
OK, you got this far. I hope. So how did these trees get so big and tall? Most scientists agree it has to do with climate. Sequoias benefit from California’s often prodigious snowpack, mentioned above, which seeps into the ground, constantly providing water to the roots of the trees. In addition to the snowpack, the thick (up to 2 feet), fire-resistant bark of sequoias helps protect them from wildfires. This forest ecology helps as well, since the fires themselves clear competing vegetation, allowing more sunlight and nutrients to reach the trees. The temperate climate of California, with its relatively mild winters and summer fog, also helps sustain these giants by moderating temperatures and reducing water loss, creating an environment where sequoias can thrive for centuries.
Conversely, Redwoods get much of their water from the air, when dense fog rolls in from the coast and is held firm by the redwoods themselves and the steep terrain. Because of the unique interplay of ocean currents and climate in California, the amount of fog that is available to trees is highly unusual. The trees’ leaves actually consume water in fog, particularly in their uppermost shoots. According to scientists who study the trees using elaborate climbing mechanisms to reach the treetops, in summer, coast redwoods can get more than half of their moisture from fog. (In fact, fog plays a central role in sustaining several of Californiaโs coastal ecosystems.) The reason is that fog is surprisingly dense with water. One study from scientists Daniel Fernandez of California State University, Monterey Bay, showed that a one-square-meter fog collector could harvest some 39 liters, or nearly 10 gallons, of water from fog in a single day.
Giant sequoia – family for scale (Erik Olsen)
Another possible explanation for the coast redwoodโs remarkable size lies in its extraordinary genome. According to research from the Redwood Genome Project, the coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens) is hexaploid, meaning it carries six copies of each chromosome in every cell, an extremely rare feature in trees. In contrast, humans and most other plants and animals are diploid, carrying only two sets of chromosomes.
The coast redwood genome is indeed massive, estimated at around 27 billion base pairs, which is approximately nine times larger than the human genome (which has about 3 billion base pairs). While not exactly ten times larger, the general comparison holds and highlights the treeโs genetic complexity.
By comparing the coast redwoodโs genome with those of other conifers, researchers have found hundreds of unique gene families, many of which are associated with stress tolerance, wound repair, fungal resistance, toxin metabolism, and the biosynthesis of flavonoids, all compounds that help mitigate cellular stress.
This rich genetic toolkit may contribute to the treeโs legendary resilience, longevity, and ability to grow to extraordinary heights, though the full relationship between genome size and physical traits in redwoods is still being studied.
Yet another factor may be the trees remarkable longevity. They are survivors. The Sierra Nevadas have long experienced dramatic swings in climate, and this age may be yet another of those swings that the trees will simply endure. Or maybe not. For most of the time that redwoods and sequoias have existed, they have done a remarkable job fighting off fires, swings in climate, as well as disease and bug infestations. Because their bark and heartwood are rich in compounds called polyphenols, bugs and decay-causing fungi don’t like them. Many trees, not just redwoods and sequoias, have genes that help them resist the typical aging processes that limit the lifespan of animals. For instance, trees can compartmentalize and isolate damaged or diseased wood, preventing the problem from spreading to the rest of the tree.
Giant sequoias in California. (Photo: Erik Olsen)
As the air heats up due to global warming, there is a rising threat to the trees’ survival. Warm air pulls moisture from leaves, and the trees often close their pores, or stomata, to maintain their water supply. When the pores close, that prevents carbon dioxide from nourishing the tree, slowing or even halting photosynthesis. The climate in areas where the trees grow hasn’t yet experienced the kind of temperatures that might kill them, but we are really just at the beginning of this current era of global warming, and some scientists warn hotter temperatures could doom many trees.
That said, other studies that show the increased carbon that causes warming could actually be good for the trees. According to an ongoing study from Redwoods Climate Change Initiative, California’s coast redwood trees are now growing faster than ever. As most people know, trees consume carbon dioxide from the air, so, the scientists argue, more carbon means more growth. However, scientists caution that climate change is not a net benefit. Increased drought, fire risk, and ecosystem stress may ultimately outweigh these temporary growth gains.
We will see. While coast redwoods have shown resilience during recent droughts, with no widespread mortality observed, giant sequoias have not fared as well. In the past decade, drought, bark beetles, and intense wildfires have killed nearly 20% of all mature giant sequoias, a sharp and alarming decline for such a long-lived species.
Redwood grove in Northern California (Photo: Erik Olsen)
It all comes down to some kind of balance. Trees may benefit from more carbon, but if it gets too hot, trees could start to perish. That’s a bit of a conundrum, to say the least.
The prospect of losing these magnificent trees to climate change is a double whammy. Not only would a mass die-off of trees be terrible for tourism and those who simply love and study them, but trees are some of the best bulwarks we have on the planet to fight climate change. Redwoods are among the fastest-growing trees on earth; they can grow three to ten feet per year. In fact, a redwood achieves most of its vertical growth within the first 100 years of its life. Among trees that do the best job taking carbon out of the atmosphere, you could hardly do better than redwoods and sequoias.
The Archangel Ancient Tree Archive, an organization out of Copemish, Michigan, has been “cloning” California’s big trees for nearly a decade. They take snippets of the trees from the top canopy and replant them, essentially creating genetically identical copies of the original tree. It’s more like propagating than cloning, but that’s what they call it. The group’s founder, David Milarch, believes fervently that planting large trees is our best bet in stopping climate change. This is the video story I produced about Milarch back in 2013. It’s worth a watch. He’s an interesting character with a lot of passion.
Preserving and protecting what’s left of these amazing organisms should be a priority in California. These trees are not only part of the state’s rich natural legacy, but they offer ample opportunities for tourism and strengthening the economies of the regions where they grow. It’s hard to visit Redwood National and State Parks or Sequoia & Kings Canyon National Parks and to come away with anything but awe at these magnificent organisms. California is special, and we are blessed to have these trees and the places where they grow in our state.
Lying east of the Owens Valley and the jagged crags of the Sierra Nevadas, the White Mountains rise high above the valley floor, reaching over 14,000 feet, nearly as high as their far better-known relatives, the Sierra Nevadas. Highway 168 runs perpendicular to Highway 395 out of Big Pine and leads up into the mountains to perhaps the most sacred place in California.
Far above sea level, where the air is thin, live some of the most amazing organisms on the planet: the ancient bristlecone pines. To the untrained eye, the bristlecone seems hardly noteworthy. Gnarled and oftentimes squat, especially when compared to the majestic coastal redwoods and giant sequoias living near the coast further west, they hardly seem like mythical beings. But to scientists, they are a trove of information, offering clues to near immortality and to the many ways that the earthโs climate has changed over the last 5,000 years.ย
In the January 20, 2020 edition of the New Yorker, music writer Alex Ross writes about the trees and the scientists who are trying to unlock the secrets of the bristleconeโs unfathomable endurance. The trees, he writes, “seem sentinel-likeโ.
Video of ancient bristlecone pine that I shot and put together.
Bristlecones are the longest living organism on earth. The treeโs Latin name is Pinus longaeva, and it grows exclusively in subalpine regions of the vast area known to geologists as the Great Basin, which stretches from the eastern Sierra Nevadas to the Wasatch Range, in Utah. Bristlecones grow between 9,800 and 11,000 feet above sea level, where some people get dizzy and there are few other plants or animals that thrive. The greatest abundance of bristlecones can be found just east of the town of Bishop, California in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. There, a short walk from where you park your car, you can stroll among these antediluvian beings as they imperceptibly twist, gnarl and reach towards the heavens.
While most of the bristlecones in the national Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest are mere hundreds of years old, there are many that are far older. Almost ridiculously so. Methuselah, a Great Basin bristlecone, is 4,851 years old, as measured by its rings, taken by scientists decades ago using a drilled core. Consider that for a moment: this tree, a living organism, planted its tentacle-like roots into the soil some 2000 years before the birth of Christ, around the time that the Great Pyramids of Egypt were built. By contrast, the oldest human being we know of lived just 122 years. That’s 242 human generations passing in the lifetime of a single bristlecone that still stands along a well-trodden trail in the high Sierras.
National Park Service
That said, if you were to try and see Methuselah for yourself, you are out of luck. The Forest Service is so protective of its ancient celebrity that it will not even share its picture. Whatโs more, itโs probably the case that there are bristlecones that are even older than Methuselah. Scientists think there could be trees in the forest that are over 5,000 years old.
How the bristlecone has managed this incredible feat of endurance is a mystery to researchers. Many other tree species are prone to insect infestations, wildfires, climate change. In fact, over the last two decades, the vast lodgepole pine forests of the Western United States and British Columbia have been ravaged by the pine beetle. Millions of acres of trees have been lost, including more than 16 million of the 55 million acres of forest in British Columbia.
But insects donโt seem to be a problem for bristlecones. Bristlecone wood is so dense that mountain-pine beetles and other pests can rarely burrow their way into it. Further, the region where the bristlecones live tends to be sparse with vegetation, and thus far less prone to wildfire.
A recent study by scientists at the University of North Texas looked at the amazing longevity of the ginkgo tree, examining individuals in China and the US that have lived for hundreds, perhaps more than a thousand years. One thing they found is that the treesโ immune systems remain largely intact, even youthful, throughout their lives. It turns out the genes in the cambium, or the cylinder of tissue beneath the bark, contain no โprogramโ for senescence, or death, but continue making defenses even after hundreds of years. Researchers think the same thing might be happening in the bristlecone. This is not the case in most organisms and certainly not humans. Like replicants in the movie Blade Runner, we seem to have a built-in clock in our cells that only allows us to live for so long. (I want more life, f$@$@!)
Scientists at the University of Arizonaโs Laboratory of Tree-Ring Research (LTRR) have built up the worldโs largest collection of bristlecone cross-sections, which they carefully examine under the microscope, looking for clues about how the trees have managed to survive so long, and how they can inform us of the many ways the earthโs climate has changed over the millennia.
The LTRR houses the nation’s only dendrochronology lab (the term for the study of tree rings), and the researchers there have made several discoveries using tree cores that have changed or confirmed climate models. For example, in 1998, the climatologist Michael E. Mann published the โhockey stick graph,โ that revealed a steep rise in global mean temperature from about 1850 onward (i.e. the start of the industrial revolution). There was intense debate about this graph, with many scientists and climate change skeptics saying that Mannโs projections were too extreme. But numerous subsequent studies, some using the treesโ rings new models, confirmed the hockey-stick model.
Bristlecone Pine
The bristlecones will continue to help us understand the way the earth is changing and to see into the deep human past in a way few other living organisms can do. They also improve our understanding of possible future environmental scenarios and the serious consequences of allowing carbon levels in the atmosphere to continue to grow.
In this sense, they truly are sentinels.
Bristlecone pine in the White Mountains (Unsplash)
Interestingly, it wasn’t until 1953 that we found out just how ancient these trees are. Credit for this breakthrough goes to Edmund Schulman, a dendrochronologist. Schulman and his colleague Frits Went stumbled upon an ancient limber pine while conducting research in Sun Valley, Idaho. This tree, which they found to be around 1,650 years old, got them thinking: could there be even older trees hidden away in the mountains?
Shulman then traveled to the White Mountains and began a long-term exploration of the Bristlecone forest. He took core samples from many trees and made a startling discovery. At night, at his camp, he began counting the annual growth rings on a slender piece of wood. He counted and counted, not daring to believe what was unfolding before his eyes. When he finally put down his magnifying glass in the enveloping darkness, he had counted rings that went back past the year 2046 BCE. Schulman had stumbled upon a tree that had been alive for over four millennia. Not only alive, but continuing to grow!
Schulman had effectively expanded our understanding of how long a single tree can endureโproviding key insights into environmental longevity, climate history, and even the resilience of life on Earth.
Bristlecone forest in the White Mountains of California (Erik Olsen)
In tribute to the momentous find, he dubbed the tree “Pine Alpha,” a name that’s as much a testament to the tree’s age as it is to the groundbreaking nature of Schulman’s work. Until then, no one knew a living tree could be that old. The discovery was a pivotal moment that opened up a new frontier in the study of dendrochronology, and it became a cornerstone example of how trees serve as living records of Earth’s history.
It should be said that the trees themselves, in their gnarled, frozen posture, are truly are beautiful. They should be protected and preserved, admired and adulated. Indeed, Federal law prohibits any attempt to damage the trees, including taking a mere splinter from the forest floor. The trees have also become an obsession for photographers, particularly those who favor astrophotography. A quick search on Instagram reveals a stunning collection of images showing the majesty and haunting beauty of these ancient trees.
So, if you are ever headed up Highway 395 into the Sierras, it is well worth the effort to make the right-hand turn out of Big Pine to visit the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. The air is thin, but the views are spectacular. And where else can you walk among the oldest living things on the planet?
51 years ago today a man named Edwin Philip Pister rescued an entire species from extinction.
Less than 2.5 inches in length, the Owens pupfish is a silvery-blue fish in the family Cyprinodontidae. Endemic to California’s Owens Valley, 200 miles north of Los Angeles, the fish has lived on the planet since the Pleistocene, becoming a new species when its habitat was divided by changing climatic conditions, 60,000 years ago.
For thousands of years, the Owens Valley was largely filled with water, crystal-clear snowmelt that still streams off the jagged, precipitous slab faces of the Sierra Nevada mountains. Pupfish were common, with nine species populating various lakes and streams from Death Valley to an ara just south of Mammoth Lakes. The Paiute people scooped them out of the water and dried them for the winter.
In the late 19th century, Los Angeles was a rapidly growing young metropolis, still in throes of growing pains that would last decades. While considered an ugly younger sibling to the city of San Francisco, Los Angeles had the appeal of near year-round sunshine and sandy beaches whose beauty that rivaled those of the French Riviera.
Owens pupfish (California Department of Fish and Wildlife)
But by the late 1900s, the city began outgrowing its water supply. Fred Eaton, mayor of Los Angeles, and his water czar, William Mulholland, hatched a plan to build an aqueduct from Owens Valley to Los Angeles. Most Californians know the story. Through a series of shady deals, Mulholland and Eaton managed to get control of the water in the Owens Valley and, in 1913, the aqueduct was finished. It was great news for the new city, but terrible news for many of the creatures (not to mention the farmers) who depended on the water flowing into and from the Owens Lake to survive.
So named because they exhibit playful, puppy-like behavior, the Owens pupfish rapidly began to disappear. Pupfish are well-known among scientists for being able to live in extreme and isolated situations. They can tolerate high levels of salinity. Some live in water that exceeds 100ยฐ Fahrenheit, and they can even tolerate up to 113ยฐ degrees for short periods. They are also known to survive in near-freezing temperatures common in the lower desert.
Owens River in the Eastern Sierra (Erik Olsen)
One of those animals is the Owens pupfish.
But hot or cold are one thing. The disappearance of water altogether is another.
As California has developed, and as climate change has caused temperatures to rise, thus increasing evaporation, all of California’s pupfish populations have come under stress. Add to these conditions, the early 20th-century introduction by the California Department of Fish and Wildlife of exotic species like largemouth bass and rainbow trout to lakes and streams in the eastern Sierras, and you get a recipe for disaster. And disaster is exactly what happened.
Several species of pupfish in the state have been put on the endangered species list. Several species, including the Owens pupfish, the Death Valley Pupfish and the Devils Hole pupfish are some of the rarest species of fish on the planet. The Devils Hole pupfish recently played the lead role in a recent story about a man who accidentally killed one of the fish during a drunken spree. According to news stories, he stomped on the fish when he tried to swim in a fenced-off pool in Death Valley National Park. He went to jail.
The remains of the Owens River flowing through Owens Valley in California. Credit: Erik Olsen
The impact on the Owens pupfish habitat was so severe that in 1948, just after it was scientifically described, it was declared extinct.
That is, until one day in 1964, when researchers discovered a remnant population of Owens pupfish in a desert marshland called Fish Slough, a few miles from Bishop, California. Wildlife officials immediately began a rescue mission to save the fish and reintroduce them into what were considered suitable habitats. Many were not, and by the late 1960s, the only remaining population of Owens pupfish, about 800 individuals, barely hung on in a “room-sized” pond near Bishop.
On August 18, 1969, a series of heavy rains caused foliage to grow and clog the inflow of water into the small pool. It happened so quickly, that when scientists learned of the problem, they realized they had just hours to save the fish from extinction.
Edwin Philip Pister
Among the scientists who came to the rescue that day was a stocky, irascible 40-year-old fish biologist named Phil Pister. Pister had worked for the California Department of Fish and Game (now the California Department of Fish and Wildlife) most of his career. An ardent acolyte of Aldo Leopold, regarded as one of the fathers of American conservation, Pister valued nature on par, or even above, human needs. As the Los Angeles Times put it in a 1990 obituary, “The prospect of Pister off the leash was fearsome.”
“I was born on January 15, 1929, the same day as Martin Luther Kingโperhaps this was a good day for rebels,” he once said.
Pister had few friends among his fellow scientists. Known for being argumentative, disagreeable, and wildly passionate about the protection of California’s abundant, but diminishing, natural resources, Pister realized that immediate action was required to prevent the permanent loss of the Owens pupfish. He rallied several of his underlings and rushed to the disappearing pool with buckets, nets, and aerators.
Within a few hours, the small team was able to capture the entire remaining population of Owens pupfish in two buckets, transporting them to a nearby wetland. However, as Pister himself recalls in an article for Natural History Magazine:
“In our haste to rescue the fish, we had unwisely placed the cages in eddies away from the influence of the main current. Reduced water velocity and accompanying low dissolved oxygen were rapidly taking their toll.”
Los Angeles Aqueduct. Credit: Erik Olsen
As noted earlier, pupfish are amazingly tolerant of extreme conditions, but like many species, they can also be fragile, and within a short amount of time, many of the pupfish Pister had rescued were dying, floating belly up in the cages. Pister realized immediate action was required, lest the species disappear from the planet forever. Working alone, he managed to net the remaining live fish into the buckets and then carefully carried them by foot across an expanse of marsh. “I realized that I literally held within my hands the existence of an entire vertebrate species,” he wrote.
Pister managed to get the fish into cool, moving water where the fish could breathe and move about. He says about half the the population survived, but that was enough.
Today, the Owens pupfish remains in serious danger of extinction. On several occasions over the last few decades, the Owens pupfish have suffered losses by largemouth bass that find their way into the pupfish’s refuges, likely due to illegal releases by anglers. In 2009, the US Fish and Wildlife Service estimated that five populations totaling somewhere between 1,500 and 20,000 Owens pupfish live in various springs, marshes, and sloughs in the Owens Valley, where they are federally protected.
