At the atomic level, probably not much in the Sierra has changed over the last two hundred years. There is marginally less gold, of course, because miners hauled tons of it away, but the great majority must still be around, as inac-cessible as ever. Other atomic elements would be diminished, too, through erosion. Something has silted up the lower riverbeds of all the major streams, and where that came from is obvious. Wind likely works both ways. In addition to erosion, it has carried in and deposited lots of atoms of native and non-native elements during that time, some originating from human activities, some not. Still, compared to the vast storehouse of atoms originally comprising the range, any percentage of change has been slight.
At the molecular and cellular levels, change would be more noticeable, especially with regard to surface features. Many of the new molecules, however, would classify as pollutants—phosphates, hydrocarbons and the like—directly or indirectly introduced by man. No sample from a stream or lake today would resemble a water analysis from back when. Air samples the same. Then there's all the asphalt, concrete and steel used in highways, railroads, damns and ski lifts, as well as exotic flora and fauna. Any number of interlopers, from Scotch broom to fruit trees, and from wild pigs to livestock and Northern Pike, have arrived, taken up residence and multiplied. As with the human population, including a virtual elimination of indigenous peoples and their replacement by Caucasians.
Indeed, the more we get away from the micro level, the more evident the changes become. Glaciers receding and gone from global warming, smog and acid rain, altered precipitation patterns and native forests reduced by eighty percent and more. But our Sierra remains beautiful, nonetheless. A beauty that draws ever more people wanting to enjoy her, for retirement, for a vacation, for a weekend, or for a day—on foot, in boats, on bikes, on horses, on snowboards, or on some motorized variant of these.
As a result, I think the most realistic way to understand California's dominant mountain range is this: as a macro-level Central Park. Fly over in a plane and you see it immediately. For Harlem and the Upper East Side, we have the rapidly growing Reno/ Carson City conurbation. For the Upper West Side, we have California's clotted sprawl of valley cityscapes from Marysville to Fresno. And for the luxury addresses with park views, we have suburban and ex-urban development at the lower elevations along both sides boasting visual amenities galore.
Of course New York City is a single polity with a clear sense of the key role its park plays. The Sierra is administered by an overlapping array of federal, state, local and private jurisdictions, as are the sprawl cities along its flanks. Not that any of this is new. The Sierra has long been a recreation bank, along with being a resource bank and a dramatic landscape. Nearby urban growth has been going on since California and Nevada came into existence. It's just that the resource bank aspects, other than those relating to watershed, are largely exhausted, while the urbanization and attendant recreation trends have accelerated enormously.
In terms of policy, how do we balance all this for the greatest public benefit? I don't know, but recognizing and accepting the validity of a macro-framework for looking at it might be a good start. An atomized view misses too much that's important.
Bill Pieper
Author of Belonging – A Novel of Downieville and California's Modern Gold Country (Comstock Bonanza Press, 2006) and other fiction titles
A holistic view
Getting the macro view
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