August 3, 2013 Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, part 2
This post is part of a series. To read the first post, click here. To see more Point Lobos photos, click here.
Not far from where the Cypress Grove Trail begins, it departs the meadow and enters the shelter of ancient trees. This grove is one of two naturally growing stands of Monterey Cypress trees left on Earth. Some of these trees are more than 2000 years old. They towered over us, almost a hundred feet high, their bright green boughs spreading out to make a ceiling over our heads. At the fork in the trail we veered north, and soon we were looking out at Cypress Cove, Middle Cove, and then Pinnacle Cove. In some places the trail climbed steep stairs carved into the granodiorite. It felt like we were exploring the ruins of an archaic enchanted castle.
This is exactly the kind of thing I was hoping for when I moved to California, I found myself thinking. It was the realization of a long-ago dream, the sudden knowledge of having arrived at some dimly anticipated karmic destination. The beauty of this place is unreal, and it struck me to the core. I can't possibly describe it in a way that properly communicates its bewitching qualities. Even the best photos I took are incapable of conveying what it was like to be there, with pearlescent light trickling through the trees and the sound of the ocean far below, branches and rocks overlaying one another to create infinite subtle gradations of color and shadow.
Monterey cypress trees have been successfully grown in many other parts of the world, but here is one of the only places where they appear of their own accord. The other spot that hosts native Monterey cypress trees is Cypress Point at Pebble Beach. These stands were once much more extensive, a huge forest on the west coast. 15,000 years ago, climate change at the end of the Pleistocene epoch caused them to pull back to Point Lobos. They are the living remains of a prehistoric time. I was amazed by the survival skills of the trees out on the furthest rocks, whose roots reached deep into cracks and fissures and whose branches are continually assaulted by wind and salty spray.
These gnarled old giants were a key factor in the preservation of Point Lobos as a natural reserve. As I mentioned in the previous post, Alexander Allan's purchase of this land helped it become a protected area. Point Lobos was scheduled to be developed as a subdivision, to be named "Carmelito." He rescued it from this fate by buying back all the Carmelito lots that had been sold. Luckily for future park visitors like me, these lots had not been selling very well. Allan set up a tollgate and made some rules to protect the land. Around that time, in the 1920s, the importance and rarity of this stand of naturally occurring Monterey cypress was being realized, and the Save-the-Redwoods League was working hard to raise awareness of the value of the land as a natural resource.
The Save-the-Redwoods League acquired the services of world-famous landscape designer Frederick Law Olmstead, who analyzed and reported on the areas of Point Lobos that most deserved conservation. Olmstead's advocacy and strategies were crucial to the preservation of not just Point Lobos but many other parks as well. What I learned about Olmstead in the process of writing this post has made me add him to my list of personal heroes for his lifetime commitment to national parks (of which I am obviously an afficionado). I think he hit the nail on the head with this description of Point Lobos: "The most outstanding example on the coast of California of picturesque rock and surf scenery in combination with unique vegetation, including typical Monterey Cypress."
Advised by Olmstead and others, the Save-the-Redwoods League provided major assistance to the State of California in purchasing 348 acres of this land from the Allan family after Alexander Allan's death. An additional 15 acres of land, the location of the Cypress Grove Trail, was given to the state outright by the family. The trees I passed that day were part of the Alexander and Satie Allan Memorial Grove, named in honor of Alexander and his wife.
When Aki told us at the start of this trail that the best was yet to come, he was absolutely correct. Our walk through the Allan Memorial Grove was my favorite part of the whole day. The peak of our trip, the most spectacular moment, was when we passed through the section of the grove where velvety orange material clung to the cypress trees. "What the heck is that?!" we all asked each other. Someone said it was lichen. To me, it looked like an extraterrestrial organism had merged with the trees to create a superintelligent biological matrix in which the histories of the multiverses were encoded.
I got so excited about this orange stuff, and the way it molded itself over branches and trunks, that I went into manic lens-switching mode. Ten shots with the 85mm, ten more with the wide-angle, back and forth. My travel companions can always tell I'm really impressed with what I'm seeing if I start switching between lenses this way. "It's too beautiful," I heard myself saying. "I simply can't handle how beautiful this is." The graceful presence of tall cypress trees was in itself a magnificent visual feast; the addition of something so weird-looking as orange algae felt like an extravagant, unexpected gift in the middle of that feast, as if someone or something was willing to try anything in order to win me over.
Later, I learned that the orange stuff is not lichen, it's an alga. The scientific name is Trentepohlia aurea v. polycarpa. This green alga contains carotenoid pigments, the same orange pigment that gives carrots their color. Trentepohlia appears in many places around the world, by itself and also as a symbiont partner in lichen. Its spores were most likely responsible for the famous red rain of Kerala, an incident in which rain resembling blood fell in India during a three-month period in 2001 and stained people's clothes pink. Of course, anything popularly referred to as "blood rain" is going to have some interesting explanations. The most prominent alternative theory is that this rain was colored red by extraterrestrial cells. Maybe I wasn't so far off in my fantasy about the true purpose of this orange stuff.
In many places the orange alga intertwined gorgeously with lace lichen, or Ramalina menziesii as the biologists call it. You may remember my lichen spiel from this Pinnacles post. There I said that lichen would appear again; I had no idea it would be side-by-side with bizarre algae the next time it caught my attention.
Lace lichen, also known as Spanish moss, is ubiquitous in the forested areas of Point Lobos. This fructicose (highly three-dimensional and round in cross-section) lichen is excellent at retrieving airborne nutrients. The nutrients fall to the ground when pieces of the lichen break off. They also wash into the soil at the base of their host when it rains and when condensation drips from them. These factors make them beneficial to the trees and shrubs they inhabit, though if the lichen has caught pollutants from the air, its ability to retrieve particles may be less helpful to the host.
Native people in California have found lace lichen beneficial as well. Some thought it had magical properties and used it in ceremonies. Others made fiber from it for things like diapers. Deer and rabbits chow down on it whenever they can. It can reproduce both sexually and asexually, and can reach up to 6 feet in length. And now I better stop it with lichen facts, as I feel the lichen vortex is pulling me in again. I wonder if the algae vortex can match its power?
After taking us through the algae wonderland, the Cypress Grove Trail meandered past the most incredible lookout spots we had seen that day. Granite steps led us up to where we could see Pinnacle Cove, and beyond it, the shores of Carmel. This vista, shown in the first photo below, may be the most famous view at Point Lobos. It's the subject of many a photograph, painting, and poem. I understand the obsession that people seem to develop for the spot. It exerts a mysterious attraction, and leaves an unforgettable image in the memory. When I try to picture Point Lobos in my mind, this cove is the place I see first.
Now adequately gobsmacked by beauty, we kept walking until we got to Headland Cove and found a wonderful resting spot, on a rockface that led straight to a dropoff into the sea. The snacks we ate here were delicious, as snacks eaten with a good view after lots of exercise always are. We lay on the warm granodiorite feeling utterly relaxed. This stillness didn't last long for me, of course. I had to jump up and photograph a seagull who hung about looking at us as if we were the lords of creation. He was waiting for our crumbs, and his attitude was decidedly sycophantic. This toadying bird only added to our sense of privelege as we surveyed the magnificence all around us and ate beef jerky in a leisurely, top-of-the-food-chain manner.
Directly in front of us, far below, was our next destination: the Sea Lion Point Trail, where we could already see people strolling out to look at the animals that had given Point Lobos its name. Our timing was perfect. We were within a couple of hours of sunset, and would soon be walking on the Point. I knew that by the time I started taking pictures down there, the light would be just right.
You capture the essence of the experience!
-Dad
I know exactly that feeling you describe - as though someone or something is trying to win you over with these little details. Gorgeous photos and wow, this could be the most interesting natural history text I've read.
I am gobsmacked by these pics... Liking the lichen shots so much... Your writing makes me so very relaxed and happy...