A year or two ago I was greatly influenced by a couple of books (“Bowling Alone” and “Better Together”) by a Harvard scholar named Robert D. Putnam. He makes the case that decreasing involvement in community life is bad for individuals and ultimately bad for the world—a gross oversimplification on my part. But, as one who tends to sit at the computer by myself rather than do anything in the community, I knew Putnam’s message was aimed at people like me
A buffer zone in Claremont Canyon as a cultural landscape, a personal perspective, by Bill McClung
For many years I have believed we need a substantial fuel-reduction zone– similar in scale to the Tilden Fuelbreak at the edge of North Berkeley–in the complex two miles of wildland-urban intermix in Claremont Canyon. This idea runs up against practical, aesthetic, jurisdictional, and inertial challenges that may be overcome if we can begin to think of such a buffer zone as a cultural landscape.
In August, the Berkeley Architectural Heritage Association hosted a series of walks and talks concentrating on Strawberry Canyon as a cultural landscape. Walks—or rambles as they called them—occurred on Panoramic Hill, at the Botanical Garden, and along the Upper Jordan Trail, which connects to the Ridge Trail above Claremont and Strawberry Canyons.
Winter mushroom walk, by Martin Holden
In January, noted Bay Area mycologist Robert Mackler led one of his popular fungal forays into the moist oak forests of Garber Park. A past president of the Mycological Society of San Francisco, Bob Mackler has been explaining the mysteries of mushrooms to since the 1970’s. Bounding through the wintery woods in his big boots and mushroom-dyed cap, he resembled a real-life Tom Bombadil. We were only a few paces into the park before we discovered our first fungus— a log festooned with Tukeytails (Trametes versicolor).
Sulfer Shelf, by Martin Holden
The Chert Wall, by Martin Holden
Tale of the tapping towhee, by Marilyn Goldhaber
At first, I wondered if my husband had a secret admirer. I could hear a tapping at the window of his study, like someone wanting to get in. But when I went to investigate, no one was there. Then again— tap, tap, tap— and I saw him, a chubby, brown bird earnestly pecking and flapping at his own reflection.
Redwoods of Claremont Canyon, by Joe Engbeck
In December 1972, a prolonged cold snap hit the San Francisco Bay Area killing thousands of eucalyptus trees in upper Claremont Canyon. The eucs were still standing, but they looked terrible–stark and dry and colorless like so much kindling waiting for a spark. With the wildfire of 1970 still painfully fresh in everyone’s memory, UC Chancellor Albert Bowker decided to take bold action. He had all the eucalyptus trees cut down and hauled away. Logging crews used chainsaws, trucks, bulldozers, and other heavy equipment to do the job.
Afterward, the upper canyon looked like a war zone. To minimize erosion, the area was seeded from the air. But it still looked terrible, so the Piedmont Rotary Club came forward with a reforestation plan. They persuaded UC planners to let them plant some 550 Monterey pines and coast redwood seedlings. The actual planting was done on a Sunday morning in April 1975. The seedlings were small, about 12 inches high in one-gallon containers, but most of them survived.
On the other hand, the root systems of the eucalyptus trees were not dead. Soon almost all of the stumps began to sprout, sending up four or five or six new stems to replace those that had been frozen and cut down. As a result, the upper canyon turned back into a forest of fast-growing, fire-hazardous, eucalyptus trees, some of them now 12 to 18 inches in diameter (dbh) and as much as 80 feet tall.
Recently, with support and encouragement from the Conservancy, UC began to cut down the re-sprouted eucalyptus trees in the upper canyon. Mature oaks, laurels, elderberrys and other trees and shrubs are being left alone. Like the pines and redwoods that were planted in 1975 they are now enjoying the sunlight and moisture that were being monopolized by the eucs. So far, about 3,000 eucalyptus stems have been cut down and the program is scheduled to continue.
The Monterey pines, perhaps 100 of them, have reached middle age and look a bit dry; they’re not in their favorite near-ocean environment. On the other hand, more than 200 redwoods have also survived. In fact, most of them are healthy and full of youthful enthusiasm, just beginning to prosper and grow rapidly. Many are 10 to 20 feet tall with main stems that are 10 or 12 inches in diameter. Quite a few are as much as 60 feet tall and growing taller by four to six feet per year. A few have trunks that are over seven feet in circumference (28 or 29 inches dbh).
The Conservancy’s plan is to continue what the Rotary Club started 30 years ago–replacing the old, very dangerous eucalyptus forest with a cool, moist, relatively fire-safe and beautiful forest of redwoods, oaks, laurels, and other native trees and shrubs. The Conservancy has a supply of seeds gleaned from redwoods native to the East Bay Hills that will be used to continue and extend the reforestation program that was started in 1975. It looks to be a lovely and enduring accomplishment that we will all be able to enjoy and be proud of, and proudly leave to future generations.
