The History of the Future

        We'll share a few moments here on the idea of drought, a drought of spirit and intellect as well as the obvious, depicted here in California's Lake Isabella in Kern County.

        I've been watching Lake Isabella disappear since we became Californians in 2007. These photos were taken recently.

        The stonework in the left of the frame above is the dam.

        There is no recreation in a lake where water levels have dropped to expose the ghost trees that once filled the valley before they were covered. This is an agricultural area too. Similar scenes are visible all over the west.

        We know this, right? It's a global issue. Even if droughts break, it will take years to return to "normal," an idea that is itself probably non-existent. Climate change, for whatever reason, is just that, change!

       From the view of someone who was there to cover the first Earth Day and who has chronicled the ensuing decades, we are not ready for what is coming at us.

        To the northeast of Lake Isabella is a perfect example.

        The great Owens Valley, the deepest in the US, sits at 4-thousand feet rimmed to the east by the Sierra Nevada, west of the White and Inyo Mountains at the western edge of the great basin.

        This vast wilderness is a poster of the moral and ethical drought that can destroy humankind.

        The California Water Wars are legendary, told well in the book and documentary series Cadillac Desert, fictionalized in the film Chinatown, and subject of litigation and battles that go on.

         That island, the remnant of a volcano, sits in the middle of a lake that remains at the middle of the public awareness of theft, deception, chicanery and shortsightedness perpetuated by Los Angeles officials. It began in the late 19th century and to this day LA exists becasue of the water theft.

        Mono Lake, subject of some of the most complex litigation in history, is the largest lake that remains in what once was an Owens Valley flowing with rivers, tributaries, small lakes until LA movers and shakers, destroyed them to feed a real estate boom that led to city of LA we know today. 

        It is a city still dependent on other people's water and those waters like those that feed Phoenix, and so much Southern California, and Arizona, are disappearing.

        Drought should change how we live, but golf courses remain green, builders continue to develop, swimming pools are filled, mindless irrigation continues. When the last drop is used, civilization in those places face a darkness where the drought of spirit, morality and ethics will rise up and create a force that will savage life and society.

        After years of wrangling, Mono Lake is beginning to rise and LA has learned to deal with it. While that may seem to be  good news, LA has instead begun to draw water from subsurface sources in the Owens Valley. 

        Owens Lake is a dry lake bed, as are others. Still the modernity of life in a big city is sucking water from aquifers in a parched area.

        In the early 1900's modern life began the theft. The Paiute tribe and other first citizens had relied on the water for centuries. Settlers had also begun a thriving agriculture that used the accessible water.

        There is no thriving agriculture today. The Paiute and other tribes have watched their paradise be stolen.

        LA is not the only place where this drought of conscience has blinded us to the consequence of our actions. It's a global problem.

        Documentary maker Gabriela Cowperthwaite who produced the expose Blackfish is out with a new investigation that is profoundly shaking up those who have seen it. 

        Based on the seven years of work by Nate Halverson of the Center for Investigative Reporting, it relates how commercial and national interests are buying land with water and food resources around the planet, essentially gaining control. As one analyst wrote "... it is a race against the clock to control food and water..." as climate continues to change humanity. 

       What permits, and what feeds such a sinister effort? A drought of morality and ethics.

       I've tried to avoid head on political analysis for a while. I'm sick of returning to the topic, depressed by the unnecessary division in the US, and anguished about the blatant ignorance and stupidity that is rampant. I've said most of what can be said.

       While we may be appalled and angered by the story of the Owens Valley, and the continued blindness of places like LA, the drought of conscience is apparent in too many places. One place is in the logic of a Republican party that will tolerate a candidate like Herschel Walker, or field candidates who deny the election and who continue to behave as cowards and ethical cripples. 

        We are a people at risk, all of us on this planet. Most of us have a capacity to act. We should.

       See you down the trail. 

       

    

 

CONTOURS OF BLACK FACE & PAYING DUES ON THE ROCK ROAD

     ocean rock off fiscalini ranch preserve  cambria

      A place of sanity and civility is a tough spot to find these days. The most recent black face blow up might offer a ledge, precarious though. 
     And ahead in this double post is a photo essay on paying dues on the music highway.

the rutted road of black face

       spanish moss tunnel on jack creek road templeton 

       Black face had its origins in Europe. It was used in theatre to permit white actors to play dark skinned characters, including Othello. It did not begin as an act of racial denigration.
       The "racism" of black face began in the early 1800's in  theater when characters with demeaned qualities were played by actors in black face. British theatre of the 1800's also used black face to portray Black people in stereotyped and derogatory ways. They were portrayed as stupid, lazy, slow talking, sexually aggressive, easily frightened, and worse. That same hurtful poison was poured by American theatre. By the mid 1800's actors in black face did music and comedy skits feeding the stereotypes. Minstrel shows toured and carried the racist stereotypes far and wide. 

even disney

     In the 20th century film, animation and even Disney cartoons perpetuated the stereotypes.
     This occurred in an age when racism was rampant, but ignored. White government and majority white society functioned as though it was blind to, insensitive of or ignorant about the damage and hurt caused by the perpetuation of the stereo types much less the under girding de Jure and de Facto segregation and racism. Such behavior is inevitable in a nation where many of the founders owned slaves.
    These are undeniable truths. It is also true that not all people who have put on black face are racists. They may be stupid, but not necessarily racist. 

stupid

    If this nation did a better job of teaching real history, and respecting the truth of our heritage, contemporary Americans would know how hurtful it is. 
    I wrote here earlier that Megyn Kelly was not automatically a racist when she raised the issue of black face, stupid probably, ill advised and her network bosses succumbed to perceived outrage and she was released. 
    Now that black leaders and community leaders have come to the defense of the Virginia Governor, it may offer that ledge to have a conversation about a couple of things.

in the national dna

     First, the US must acknowledge its racist and genocidal heritage and then teach it. Our government, our system of life, perpetuated, enabled and encouraged racism and ethnic genocide. 

not fully human

    People of color were not recognized as full human beings, that was in our charter. Before that we did not recognize the sovereignty of the first citizens of this continent. As terrible as it has been for African Americans, it has been worse for native Americans. This nation slaughtered millions of native inhabitants. When the murder stopped, we then lied to and cheated them. That is who we are, and what we did. Thank God men and women of conscience and increasing intelligence have reshaped, refined and corrected our national establishment, but it has been a long battle and it continues.

reason, don't screech

    Second, and this needs saying. Stupid things done by a student 35 years ago should not be the automatic disqualifier for a person who otherwise has demonstrated good judgment, citizenship and character. Who did not make poor judgments in their youth?
     There are limits here. Dressing up like Michael Jackson, or Al Jolson may have been stupid but it is not like doing a crime of violence. Being overtly racist, abusive, discriminatory or committing sexual assault are more serious than dressing up. We need to acknowledge that.
     There is a screeching factor in American politics today that borders on hysteria. It is loud and it drowns out common sense, civility and due process. It makes victims of the system and can injure people more grievously than some of the so called alleged offenses.  To those who are calling for the Virginia governor's dismissal, I urge you to point some of that venom toward the American mass culture and educational system that has failed to teach just what black face is, the whole story. 
      It is offensive and dangerous when a society fails to know and learn from history. We have much to learn, and a lot of making amends to do. 

 the music road

   the pour house  paso robles

    Davy and the Midnights do a sound check at a tap room in Paso Robles. Their tour of the California coast takes them from LA to San Francisco and north.

   Haven't heard of them? You may someday. They play country, blues, rock and the sort of fare that keeps you alive playing bars. Their own music is good and they are refining it in an LA studio. 
   They are young, on the road and paying their dues.
   Lead singer Davey Allen is also the keyboard player for Eric Burdon and the Animals and has played with other big name rockers. He's got a great band.

    Guitarist Greg Cahill is a superb player. Full disclosure-His dad is a life long friend. We've watched Greg from when he first sat at a piano as a tyke.  He's true LA pro. 
    But that doesn't make life on the road easy.

      cayucos saloon and card room  the"tav"  cayucos

     After the Paso gig it was on to a place to sleep, briefly. An early morning wake up put them on the road to Carmel Valley for a three hour acoustic performance at a winery. The long drive back slammed into showing up in Cayucos to set up for the Saturday night show at the old Saloon.

    These guys are not in the music royalty, yet. They are their own roadies, engineers and set up men.

     On the road, you never know what kind of set up and acoustics you'll find.

     It takes a little psychology and musical alchemy to get a sense of the crowd, what they want to hear, and then feed them.

     There's no time to perfect the "room" for sound or staging. Just get up there and do it.

      After the second set at the Saturday night show, I told him it takes someone a lot younger than me to keep up the pace.                        

      In the next 8 days they'll be in San Rafael, Sacramento, San Francisco, Fairfax, Blue Lake, Arcata, Brookings Or., and Crescent City.

    Rock on!

     See you down the trail.

"BUT YOU CAN NEVER LEAVE" and A WALK IN HARMONY

A PIECE OF HARMONY

    A long lens from Gail and David's captures the panorama of Cayucos and Morro Bay framed by the iconic Morro Rock, Hollister Peak and some of the other "Seven Sisters" peaks that spine the Central Coast toward San Luis Obispo.

      It was one of those spectacular days for a walk along the coast. 

     Hidden away on a quiet cove is a "Chinaman's house," a remnant of local history.

     There was a time when Chinese settlers lived in homes on the shore, often hanging over bluffs.  They harvested and dried kelp for export to China. Historical accounts say George Hearst, father of William Randolph Hearst, forced many of the Chinese to leave by pushing their homes into the sea after he purchased property where they had resided. 

      The current owner has improved the historical building as an isolated get away cabin.

       This stretch of coast offers pristine nature.

  There is a simple joy in an invigorating and mind clearing walk.

     Selfie ops for our eldest Kristin and her fiancé Richard.

  Or a quiet meditation and breather as evidenced by "Ducky," Gail's trusty companion.

THE FIRST NEW YEAR IN CALIFORNIA

Ours that is.

     It was our first Christmas season after being married in April. It was also my first trip to California. We arrived on the 29th or 30th, enough time to get in the swing of the "pickin" New Year's eve party. 

       

Photo Courtesy of Jim Cahill

On the Strand in Manhattan Beach California

      Setting the Scene:  We were lodged at the above house in Manhattan Beach, occupied by our friend Jim, who shared it with a few other guys. We got a room made empty by the travel of one of the musicians who lived there.

     It was directly on the beach and the sidewalk strand. This Indiana boy had never seen anything like it.  Bicyclists, skateboarders, runners, walkers, roller skaters, people on stilts, hand walkers and more and all in a continual parade.  The beach was a show unto itself.  Volleyball players, Frisbee fliers, boogie boarders, picnickers, and all of this in the glory and full tilt life you'd expect of 1969 California beach life. I was indeed a long way from home Toto!

     Some how we had survived the first day and were in the mode of setting up the house for a party. Jim had given Lana and I an assignment to walk to the grocery and liquor store to pick up a few supplies. We were heading up the hill away from the beach when we were stopped in our tracks by blood curdling screams and then a series of what can best be described as whoops and growls. In a flash, from an alley way came two figures running down the street. Both were nude males, that was obvious. Their identities were not.

     One of the lads was wearing a kind of Tasmanian devil mask and he was the creator of the screams. Behind him and in apparent pursuit was a fellow in a Richard Nixon mask, carrying a kind of spear and offering the war whoops. 

     "New Year's eve in California" I said to Lana who looked entirely confused.      

       It was an era when Jim, and our artist friend C.W. spent hours a day playing. Musicians drifted in and out of the house on the strand, and some of the folks in the neighborhood have gone on to stellar careers and fame. The party was to be a gathering of many of the players from the beach community. The music was indeed wonderful, the crowd was mind boggling and the best I could manage was to sit back, lean against a wall, be amazed and enjoy the whole scene.  

       During the course of the evening we met an older fellow who had done a "little singing and little acting" and said he had been "trying to leave LA" for more than ten years.  He said "it's impossible. You just can't get away." He told us he had "left 25 times" and was "always drawn back."

       Lana and I thought a lot over the years of how we might get to LA, particularly to the beach communities where friends lived.  We visited a couple of times a year for many years, but life's flow did not include a Southern California address. Of course we've all added a few orbits around the sun and many of the crowd have dispersed. Those funky beach communities have gentrified.

     Jim is still a SOCAL resident. He's the guy who opened the door on the Central Coast to us, all of those years ago when we made the first of many trips with him to Big Sur. We stopped for coffee and a snack in a little coastal village named Cambria. The seed was planted, the bait was set, the die was cast. 

     We are closing in on 8 years as Cambria residents. I think I'm like others who sometimes take offense at how quickly it is all passing. There are times when I wish my time machine was in working order, just to go back for a visit. 

Thank God the memory file still works and there are photos that now accuse us of youth but also remind us of how rich  life has been. 
      A variation of the California dream, inspired by that first trip, has come to fruition. We come to the end of the year in a place we consider beautiful, laid back, peaceful, full of creativity, wonderful people, eclecticism and eccentricity. Who knows, those Manhattan Beach revelers in masks could be fellow retirees up here. Another escapade like that might get the locals talking, but then again….

    See you down the trail.

      

REFILLING THE LAKE & SURVIVING SANDY

REFILLING THE LAKE

     An extraordinary story of our age is playing out in the vast expanse of the Mono Basin of the Owen Valley in

the Sierra Nevada range.

      It is a story of short-sighted decisions rescinded and precious resources repaired.  It underscores the effort of  conservation ideas prevailing over economic power in the courts.

   The satellite photo captures the lake basin's shrinkage.

     Like many, my first vision of Mono Lake was the exotic Tufa sculptures.  The otherworldly towers began to appear as the surface of Mono Lake began to recede. They are a limestone type of carbonate substance.

    Mono lake is a terminal lake- there is no outlet to the ocean and by its composition is a saline soda lake. It has high salt content.

     In 1941 the city of Los Angeles extended their aqueduct system hundreds of miles north into the Mono Basin where it began to drain the lake. 

 As the lake level dropped the Tufa Towers were increasingly exposed. 

     Big changes are underway at Mono Lake.  These frames 

   of exposed Tufa were shot on one of our first trips in 2008. 

    The frames that follow below were shot in early October this year.  You can see the towers are less prominent and that more grassland surrounds the lake. 

     In 1978 conservationists and environmentalists launched a battle to stop what would have been the eventual draining of Mono Lake.  Since 1941 the lake dropped by 50 vertical feet and shrank in volume by one half.  

         Court action ensued.  In 1990 LA was ordered to comply with Fish and Game Laws and in '94 the California courts ruled that Mono lake must be raised 19 feet.  25 feet less than where it was in 1941, it is enough to save the lake. 

    Recently this was exposed beach.  In the past it was under water, as it will again be. 

     The marker indicates the water level in 1963.

  This marks the 1941 water line when the draining began. 

   Negit, the black island to the right in the frame below was once separated from the shore by two miles of water.  You can see the vestige of a land bridge, created by the draining.  It was that bridge and the coyote and other predators who traveled it to nesting gull colonies that helped spur the fish and wildlife regulatory support which bolstered the efforts to force LA to stop killing the lake.

   

  Mono Lake may never get back to this level, but the water is rising and good sense prevails. 

    SURVIVING SANDY

     This may be THE monster storm in current history, at least it has that potential.  It is worrisome that unprecedented-at least in our modern historic records-weather events continue to accumulate.  In this case natural elements have combined to amplify the power and severity of the storm.  There should be full inquiry as to how human activity contributes or exacerbates, but there should also be a concerted global study of what can be done.  And, as the first concern now is safety and security of those in the storms path, we need to begin to address how we can effectively survive without casualties to humans and our lifestyle.  Are there better ways to transmit  power than by lines, hung on poles?  Can the grid go underground?  Can builders and architects design and construct with built-in emergency generation systems? Should we be more prudent about where home's are constructed and where populations settle? 

       These are tough questions, but ....

       And a final thought---can't we watch weather coverage

without people standing out in the wind, or wading in water or snow?  Just show the footage!  Allow photographers to execute their skill.  Watching someone hang on in a gale is just silly and maybe even stupid.

      See you down the trail.