Amanda's Thoughts

My Idea of a “Wild” Time

December 23, 2009 at 5:09 am Leave a comment

By: Amanda Artz

I have chosen a spot along one of my favorite hiking trails in Plunge Creek Canyon nestled in the hills of Highland.  These jagged hills are at the base of the San Bernardino National Forest and are like an irresistible invitation to explore what lies within them.

I am sitting on a trail carved out of the side of a steep hill that cascades to a valley below.  The ground is moist from the morning rain, slowly dampening my pants until I begin to notice.  Surprisingly though, the moisture is comforting, making me feel even closer to nature. Behind me sits an abandoned tunnel, its dark, rocky entrance eerily welcoming.  With recent mountain lion and bear sightings in the area, I can’t help but let my imagination wander as my hand lingers on my pepper spray.  In front of the entrance sits a large collection of natural gravel that erases any clues as to what animal might call this tunnel home.  These massive igneous hills are the perfect area to observe the natural processes that so easily break down Earth’s solid outer layer.  The soil varies in different spots of my location.  Underneath me it is well weathered and reminds me of crushed Oreo cookies.  It is moist to the touch and has a few larger rocks hidden within, like seashells among soft, ocean sand.  The soil underneath the few sporadic trees gives me an amazingly close look at the decomposition and weathering process, each step visible in the palm of my hand.  I brush whole leaves away to find bits and pieces of others, smaller and smaller until the organic matter is unrecognizable among the dirt.  Closer to the hillsides the soil is chunky and rough; quite the contrast to the silky smooth soil that lines the trail.  The sheer stress around these hills is evident.  The aftermath of rockslides and landslides lay at the foot of the trail or at the bottom of the valley making what took place as obvious as bright yellow crime scene tape.  Spots along the hillside resemble scars or wrinkles that have been carved by heavy rainwater drainage trying to escape to the canyon and river below.  The stories these scars and wrinkles tell are truly fascinating.

It is the perfect time to sit and observe nature.  It has been raining off and on all morning, and right now I can only hear the soft hum of the river along with the pitter-patter of raindrops falling gently onto my notebook.  The temperature is perfect.  Occasional wind brushes coldly across my cheek, making me feel refreshed and alive.  The wind grabs hold of the limbs and leaves of plants and entices them to dance and hum softly to the song of the river.  Other than this melodic dance, everything around me is still.  I’m sitting in complete shade brought upon by the towering cliffs above me.  The sun weaves in and out of nimbostratus clouds like a child playing hide and seek.  I look up to see the beautiful formation of a rainbow; how truly lucky I am to be sitting here at this exact moment!

The rain in this elevation is a sign that snow has fallen up in the mountains above.  This conclusion is made more evident by the swift, healthy flow of the river down below.  Thick patches of trees surround the riverbed and clearly show that this river is the heart of the valley.  Although it is November, no trees lining the river have lost their leaves.  Most are still vibrant shades of green, yet some have started their fall transformation into hues of yellow, orange, and red.  The valley is a carpet of yellowing grass, untouched except for few indentations from an animal’s chosen path. Shrubs occasionally dot the grass carpet in brilliant colors of orange, green, and grey that mirror an abstract painting.  How ironic that one of the shrubs I recognize is Indian Paintbrush.  Beyond the river only patches of trees grow, some leaning drunkenly on the hillside following the pattern of erosion.   Roots stick out of the hill, clinging onto the crumbling granite and slowly losing their fight for survival.  A few of these trees are black and contorted; their charred bodies are all that remain of the devastating 2003 wildfires. These hillslopes aren’t just home to plants.  The sides of the hill look like terraced civilizations intermingled with animal burrows, covered in moss as a sign of age.  Birds chirp and play chase from tree to tree, most of them no bigger than a grapefruit.  Animal tracks and feces are also present which is a great sign that this hidden paradise is oozing with life and activity.

Spending an hour at this site really helped me draw some conclusions as to how this ecosystem functions together as a whole.  The climate in this area is generally stable and constant, and the vegetation isn’t dense enough to affect the amount of sunshine or rainfall that occurs here.  But, climate does play a big role in the erosional processes that take place all around this area. Since the sheer stress of the hillsides is so high and the weathered material among them is so thick and chunky, the more it rains, the more landslides occur.  These landslides affect the distribution of vegetation and what spaces animals can occupy.  The parent material of the soil comes from bedrock and is deposited along the valley floor by landslides.  Once every so often, the river overflows and deposits a rich layer of silt onto the valley floor, helping it flourish in the coming spring.  Also, the climate in the mountains above affects the flow intensity of the river in this valley.  During the summer it is more of a creek than an actual river.  I couldn’t imagine what this are would look like without the climate and soil forming processes working together.  Each piece of this system is like that of a puzzle:  they all fit together to create a balance in which the atmosphere, hydrosphere, biosphere, and lithosphere interact in harmony and create an ideal location where life can flourish.

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