![]() ![]() “Sometimes the trail is just way too crowded for me and I just want to be able to enjoy nature to myself.” “I don’t know about you, but I appreciate no one’s here,” Bishop says. On this perfect, cloudless Saturday afternoon, I have the peak to myself. I can even see the Coastal Range across the Central Valley. Standing at 9,239 feet, Ralston peers into the granite, alpine playgrounds of Desolation Wilderness, Mokelumne Wilderness, and Lake Tahoe. Two years after a fire, grasses and wildflowers return, flourishing in the unobstructed sunshine.Īs the trail ascends, it brings me to the peak. Ferns and mosses are the first flora to return after a forest fire, followed by fireweed and morel mushrooms the first spring after a blaze. Though Bishop warns me that in severe burn areas, “it will be 20 to 30 years before trees are large enough to resemble what many would consider a forest,” regrowth is well underway just 7 months after the fire was completely extinguished. One is even growing in the middle of the trail, a happy sign of both regrowth and few pedestrians. Ferns unfurl in patches as large as a dining room table. “What you will see is the slow natural regrowth that’s going on,” Bishop says. This is one part of the trip I’m not prepared for, though it’s a common experience. In the midst of attempting to walk at a 90-degree angle, green materializes just off the trail, thriving in a desert of black. And the views, as I start to climb up the strenuous pitch, open up to showcase the vast network of granite peaks south of the highway. Somewhere in the distance ring two echoing calls of an eagle. I can hear a waterfall roaring and a creek finding its way from the last of the snowmelt. The trail is soft and wonderful to walk on. However, the sturdy trail flows just as I remember and floods my mind with happiness. ![]() It’s not until I stop to catch my breath that I notice the incredible contrast between the cobalt sky and the black, bare trunks.īishop is right it’s dystopian. The shade is gone with the conifer’s canopy. The first section of the 6.6-mile trail is hot. I muddle my way through the initial incline of the hike, focusing my eyes on the ashen trail. “It has never stopped me from going back and enjoying the locations and doing the activities that I’ve done in the past.” “It shouldn’t stop anybody,” she encourages. They can offer unforgettable adventures, a chance to see forest regrowth, outdoor recreation with fewer crowds, and an opportunity to place money in hurting local economies.īishop’s first piece of advice for planning a trip to a burn area is to prepare mentally, as the location will be visually changed and may offer a jarring sight. While you may be inclined to avoid regions damaged by wildfire when traveling, I implore you to still visit these places during your Western road trips and vacations. Photo: Helena Guglielmino What to expect when visiting a burn area So, on this brilliant Saturday afternoon, I lock the car door, dig my feet into the sand, and approach the trail. ![]() Ignoring the fire’s scar won’t erase the damage, it will only take a part of the forest away from me. The Caldor Fire burned 221,835 acres, much of it in Eldorado National Forest. “Eldorado is one of those unique forests … is so vast,” says Stephanie Bishop, public information officer with Eldorado National Forest. This forest is a popular destination for hikers, backpackers, paddleboarders, kayakers, off-roaders, campers, and more. Before the fire, the drive was punctuated with green and utter peace. Mount Ralston is on a beautiful stretch of riverside two-lane highway that intersects Eldorado National Forest between South Lake Tahoe and Sacramento. I’m physically prepared but captive to worry: Will the blackened trail destroy my experience here? It’s also a victim of the 2021 Caldor Fire, and its black spires of charred pine stand at broken attention along Highway 50. On the southwestern edge of California’s Desolation Wilderness, this peak stands high enough to see a number of pristine alpine lakes, including Fallen Leaf Lake, Lake Aloha, and Lake Tahoe. Backpack on, boots laced, and hiking poles extended, I’m physically ready to face one of my favorite hikes to the top of Mount Ralston. ![]()
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