It's Not Hot Everywhere

We are, evidently, experiencing the heat wave of 2015.  Temperatures in the low 100s are to be anticipated.  It's not that bad everywhere, though.  If you have time to swim or paddle at Pine Lake, the worst of it can be mitigated.

Take Plenty of Fluids

 

The Chev is like me:  It doesn't much like crowds or hot weather.  This week, though, it put up with both.  It not only took six people and a canoe to Powell Point (above) in the middle of a hot spell, but it took the same six people, minus the canoe, Between the Creeks (below).  Along the way, it used one pint of power steering fluid, one quart of oil, one gallon of coolant, and one length of bailing wire to reattach the tailpipe.  Fortunately, two of the six passengers were Tennessee natives (one of them is in the Powell Point picture), so they were unfazed by my mechanicing style.

This One Was Easier

Matheson is a somewhat famous name in Parowan.  I may have mentioned that the former governor of Utah—Scott Matheson—adopted Parowan at some point in his career, and is now buried in the city cemetery.  Plus, Floyd Matheson, the retired school principal, is one of my neighbors.  So, I wasn't surprised to see the name Matheson on a tree when I was walking on the mountain about ten miles from town.  In fact, I found this name—Earl Matheson—on at least four trees.  Earl Matheson visited this particular aspen grove on September 6, 1955; on July 9, 1956; on September 24, 1957; and on September 31, 1957.  He carved his name and the date each time.

Figuring that he was a local, I returned to Parowan and looked for him in the cemetery.  I may have found him under the stone with Remerice and Thomas.  If so, that would have made the carver a man in his mid-40s (an LDS man), living in Parowan in the 1950s.  But, the name says "Thomas Earl," so why do I think I've got my guy?  Because his wife's obit, which I found online, calls her husband "Earl."  Period.  Remerice was married to Earl.  Not Thomas Earl.  It seems like he was a guy with two names who went by the second.

Something is Out of Place

 

Have you ever been walking through the woods thinking about something else—like, say, Percy's Tom More—when suddenly something seems out of place?  You stop and look around, focused now, wondering what is bothering you.  Then your eyes find this tree (pictured) and the disorientation heightens.  "What the . . . ?  Where am I?"

The lodgepole pine (Pinus contorta) has an extensive range—from Wyoming almost to Alaska—but it does not occur in southern Utah.  Curiously I made this picture about ten miles from my house.  Have I, like David Douglas, discovered a species previously unknown to man?  The Pinus ruralwaysii?

Probably not.  I was walking in the Parowan Canyon WMU.  It is near the highway.  There were two lodgepole pines growing in the woods, along with three Austrian pines (Pinus nigra).  Someone must have planted them.  I'm not sure why.

Gonna Need Help With This One

The first problem is the date.  The carving is not new, but can it really be 200 years old?  If not, who would have carved a false date?  If so, how can the tree still be alive?  In my experience, aspen rarely live to 200 years.  But, for the carving to be authentic, this aspen would have to be 240?  250?  Is that possible?

The next problem is the identity of the carver.  By nationality, Spanish?  French?  American?  Russian?  Probably not the last two.  While Lewis and Clarke had opened the way for Manual Lisa and others to begin establishing trade along the Missouri River in the eighteen-teens, there doesn't seem to have been much American traffic in the southern Rockies prior to Jed Smith and the other mountain men.  As for Vitus Bering, he was long dead.  Besides, were the Russians using Arabic numerals in 1819, or would it have been Cyrillic?  Anyway, that leaves the Spanish or the French.  French Canadian voyageurs were exploring the Rockies long before Lewis and Clarke (Sacagawea was married to one; Charbonneau, I think), but this carving is a long way from Montreal.  A long way, too, from Madrid.  Nonetheless, the ground in question belonged officially to Spain—the Viceroyalty of New Spain.  So, Spanish, then?

A third problem is the meaning of the inscription.  If it is Spanish, what does it say?  "C IL JYME Hhi"  Roman numerals?  Day and month?  I love her?

I'll take any help I can get on this one.

Wet Decades; Dry Decades

I'm not much of a dendrochronologist.  In fact, I know very little about it.  But, I do know that, in semi-arid southern Utah, where I live, moisture availability is often the limiting factor in tree growth.  If water is available, trees can grow quickly; if it is not, they cannot.  In fact, on very limited data, I have found that precipitation rates can explain up to 70 or 80 percent of the variation in tree growth rates.

Anyway, a year or two ago, I cut and measured a relatively large 150 year old ponderosa pine that I found dying (attacked by a beetle) on a ridge at about 9200 feet.  The red curve in the graph above marks its growth rate.  Then, the other day, I was working on an Engelmann spruce tree of about the same age that was dying (attacked by a different beetle; same genus, though) on a flat at about 9900 feet.  When I saw the spruce curve (in blue, above), it reminded me of the pondo curve, so I plotted them together.

For the thirty years from 1900 to 1930, there is no surprise.  It was a well known wet period in Utah and other parts of the western United States.  My two sample trees grew quite quickly as a result.  After 1930, too, everybody knows the story:  Dustbowl.  The 1930s were extremely dry across North America.  That dry period extended into the 1940s, and, perhaps, the 1950s, too.  None of this is surprising, and is also well supported by my data.

What I don't understand, however, is the rapid growth of my two sample trees in the decade prior to 1900.  The period from 1890 to 1900 was, by other data sets I've seen, a dry one.  In fact, part of that decade was considered to be a drought in northern Utah.  So why did my trees grow so well during that decade?  One explanation might be a localized wet period in southern Utah.  We've all experienced a storm cycle where one city gets pounded, while another, 50 miles away, enjoys nice weather.  Another explanation might be that I don't know very much about dendrochronology.

Seed Makers

I've been waiting for a good ponderosa pine cone year.  Ponderosas can have a good cone crop every three years, but sometimes you have to wait four or five.  The last two weren't very good, so I was thinking that the time should be right for a bumper crop.  Plus, we got six inches of rain in May.  If that doesn't make a tree happy, I don't know what does.

Box elder, on the other hand, never entered my mind:  Until I was on my way up Bowery Creek this afternoon and noticed trees dripping with fruit.  When I stopped to look, I discovered that it was box elder, just draped with reddish double samaras.  Box elder must like the wet weather, too.  Beautiful.