A Torched Landscape

"California Indian tribes practiced grassland burning to improve the ability of the land to support game species...and favored fire-adapted plants such as the California native grasses, which are well adapted to periodic fires."- Cal Poly Land: A Field Guide

After reading this passage about the Cal Poly grasslands, I remembered an incident in early July. I was moving into my new apartment, and was woken up by the sounds of helicopters buzzing above. I looked out my bedroom window to see the hill which held the iconic "P" ablaze.

Almost six months later, I decided to hike the "P" once again. Before I began my hike I looked up the hill to see a distinct squiggly line from where the fire had once been. So then I began to hike, but it did not seem so much different from what I last remembered. The grasses were yellow in color, and we have not had that much rain to turn them green yet. I continued on and once I got higher up the hill it became even more apparent that a fire had torched the hillside. I became distracted looking to where the fire lines were and journeyed to the edge. I wanted to stand one foot where fire was and one foot where it remained intact. I continued on my hike now up in the burnt region and completely lost the trail. I thought that if I kept hiking up the hill, that I would eventually hit a part of the trail. After a few minutes of looking I spotted the trial, however I would have to hop and skip over some plants that were burnt by the fire. The one plant that had a lasting impression on me was an aloe/cactus/yucca plant. The sharp blade like leaves jutted out from the pineapple shaped core. The leaves were brown and the tips were charred black like wooden barbecue skures that had been cooked to long. The body of the plant was brown and not in its natural color, although, its root structure must have still been in tack for when I nudged my foot on it still had a tight grip to the rocky ground below. I encountered many of the plants along my hike to the top. Most of them looked dead, but I did find a few that showed some signs of encouragement. Below all the charred leaves, new sprouts were beginning to make their way out into the landscape. This certainly was a welcoming site. I knew that it would just be a matter of time until the landscape was restore to what it used to remember it as. Once I got to the peak of the hill, I was able to have an unobstructed view in 360 degrees. I shook my head thinking how close our campus and my home was to being burnt down. I am relieved to know that the resiliency of nature will bring it right back.