Desert Ecology Field Trip
Western State College of Colorado
March 18-26, 2005


After being trapped by school work, after sitting in dark and quiet classrooms for three months, a welcome and unexpected opportunity arises in the form of a desert field trip. Off to the most desolate region on our continent for focused study and rejuvenation. Like a group of stranded hikers being rescued after a week of living off insects and sleeping in snow caves, we were all eager to depart a frigid Gunnison winter and catch some warm rays on our sandaled feet and gleaming white faces.  The last time we saw temperatures above forty one cannot say, but one thing is for certain: we all needed warm weather and sunshine.  I could have been dropped off somewhere outside of Death Valley and never have returned, left only to explore unnamed canyons, climb unnamed peaks, and search for lost treasures.  I had no problem leaving everything behind, to let my mind wander freely as I watched the moon glide across the stellar landscape, or witness the rapid oxidation of decaying xylem as it illuminated a small sphere around us - returning to the things we enjoyed for hundreds of thousands of years, returning once again to where we started.  Brian
Clouds abound and are inconsistent, running an unpredictable cycle of grey, implanting the thought of rain into any who follow their paths mind. Yet they open to reveal vast blue skies and radiant sunshine, which accent the stunning green mountain sides marked with an array of vegetation. We are informed this is a place of grueling temperatures and fatal drought to any organism that hasn’t followed an extensive evolutionary journey within these conditions. Harsh conditions are responsible for the astonishing adaptations exhibited by these organisms and the diversity of this place. This is an environment that is at times so harsh one can’t help but admire these uniquely selected organisms. Towering saguaros (many beyond 100 years of age), overlook rolling mountainsides like old wise men. Wildflowers speckle mountainsides, sporadically placed like paint on an artists pallet. While wandering springs and washes, how exciting it is to play detective, uncovering the history of recent past. Revealed is the presence of such species as: wild burrows, javelinas, jack rabbits, rodents, birds, and insects. While the scent of lush vegetation overwhelms the senses, bird symphonies ring, reminding one of the ability desert dwellers have to capitalize on the brief kindness their environment offers. Lynn
Badwater, 282 feet below sea level, is the lowest point of Death Valley, and therefore the local point of salt and water accumulation. We walked out on the salt encrusted mud, and although the clay and silt alluvium was soft from the wet winter, the salt formations held the mud together in sharp crests that could not be broken by the weight of a human.  As we walked out onto the salt pan, the vegetation dwindled, leaving a stark white landscape. Pickleweed, with its succulent pickle-shaped stems seemed out of place on the barren land. The ground surrounding the plant was eroded by wind, raising the plant on a rooted pedestal, and littered with salt-ridden stem segments shed by the plant. Further out on the flat, the water was suspended by the crust. As the wind blew, salt-saturated water splashed up onto our legs, stinging the cuts in our skin, and airborne ions coated our moistened lips. Apparent from here were the surrounding snowcapped peaks, the ancient alluvial fans, and the green and yellow bajadas that gradually gave way to the seemingly sterile, white salt pan where we stood. Caley


The Racetrack came into view as we neared the end of our two-hour bumpy drive. We approached the south end of the playa, hiking out to the mysterious moving rocks.  The long tracks created by the rocks traveled in all directions. Apparently, the rocks fall off of nearby cliffs and race around the playa. The reason for their movement is surprisingly unknown. From the moving rocks we walked north—a seemingly never-ending trek across the flat, cobblestone playa—to a large, isolated rock formation suitably named the Grandstand. A mirage of water surrounding the island of boulders receded as we neared. On the Grandstand we immediately began scrambling around on the rocks in search of chuckwallas. We encountered several species of lizards, including a desert horned lizard, but initially chuckwallas were no where in sight. But after a lunch on “the beach”, our search for chuckies continued and one was spotted, though only briefly as it quickly retreated into its crevice. Our search for this peculiar lizard would have to resume another day. The playa, the Grandstand, the remoteness. What an amazing, mysterious place!  Debbie


Beauty in a Valley of Death. Blue skies and a handful of clouds; we set out up the canyon, an array of entertainment awaiting the senses. The sun scorched our skin in exposed areas of the canyon floor and slight breezes brought goose bumps in the shade of narrow side canyons and far reaching overhangs. Anxious fingers delight at the smooth cool well-worn rock in the narrow canyon bottom and are intrigued by the seemingly spine covered stones near the rim. From the mouth to its upper reaches, the bottom portion of the canyon is swirls of creamy reds, oranges, whites, and grays. The remaining height of the wall radiates a reddish brown as it absorbs the sun. The canyon is crooked; mysterious swells, curves, drops, pools, and overhangs. Each twist and turn, where the Earth withstood the force of a torrent, produces a new shape. How could such a crude force create something so gentle? The canyon floor is a mosaic with stones ranging from sand and pebbles to jagged brick sized stones to bedroom-sized boulders!  This mosaic is so large and intricate, hewn from solid rock that, it must be carved by God. Eric

Due to its striking name, Death Valley is closely associated with people. Following the last ice age, prehistoric tribes were living in the area when the climate and resulting landscape were more temperate. I suspect their name for the area was more optimistic. Understanding the limits posed by the harsh but vitalizing environment enabled the native Americans to raise and support families and communities without devastating their natural home. Undoubtedly the Shoshone Indians, who flourished here when Anglo miners arrived with their miserable, dark perception of the Valley, had greater respect for the promises and possibilities of the land. The miners, prospecting for treasure and fame, plundered the Valley, taking more then it was able to give. Arrogance led to their inevitable collapse, reflected in an unwavering cycle of boom and bust. The theme park here now, managed by the National Park Service, continues the abuse. Golf courses and swimming pools, restaurants and hotels, grossly taking advantage of the Valley beyond its means to give, cater to the shallow gratification desired by the people of Death Valley today, tourists. Michael


A female pupfish in Salt Creek.
Between Death Valley and Las Vegas lies a 300-feet deep, water-filled cavern containing the entire population of a species, the Devil's Hole pupfish. On the side of a hill in the Ash Meadows Wildlife Refuge in Nevada and fifty feet below where we stood, peering through fencing and barbed-wire, lies a small pool. A shallow limestone shelf, a few square feet in size, is covered in algae, which the species relies on completely for food and as a spawning ground. The pupfish population supposedly fluctuates from 300-900 individuals seasonally depending on the amount of algae present. Monitoring equipment, installed after the 1976 Supreme Court ruling stating that the water level of the cavern could not drop enough to affect the endangered pupfish population, is obvious, and a constant beeping gave some non-interpretable warning and feeling of alarm. Though we weren't able to see the 2.5 cm long pupfish from the overlook, seeing this cavern reminded me how truly unique a species can be and the fragility of life. Before this trip the relevance and significance of divergence were little more than words. John
What an amazing trip! The whole trip was a great experience, and a highlight was our stop at Red Rocks in Nevada and having the opportunity to see the living dinosaurs, the desert tortoise. What an incredibly fascinating creature. However, I wonder how much longer they can exist as we continue to disrupt their desert habitat for our needs and wants. Their chances don’t look good. People are afraid of what they don’t understand, and its past time to figure it out and respect it. Everything is unique in its own way, but, what happens as that uniqueness is destroyed? We as humans need to work together to find a solution to the problems we’ve created. Whether or not others agree with me, we are all apart of the solution.  I wish everybody could have the opportunity to see the beauty I see in them. We need to understand that our actions have consequences and possibly in a devastating way. I hope someday I can do more for the desert tortoise than just exclaiming what needs to be done. Perhaps someday I can make a difference! Melina
After spending six days and nights in the desert I have come to deeply respect this ecosystem and the many endemic species it comprises. The unique adaptations of these species to the aridity and barren characteristics of the desert are quite impressive. Therefore, when we approached Las Vegas on our journey back home, I was in complete and absolute “culture shock”. After spending such intimate time with the plants and animals of the desert, Las Vegas seemed like the most ghastly, overindulging human creation ever. Nestled within expanses of suburban sprawl were clean shiny SUVs, all you can eat buffets of apparently imported food, lights that over stimulated my senses created from the energy harnessed by hydroelectric dams, fountains of obviously imported water, and most of all people…everywhere. The Arid Southwest has one of the highest occurrences of threatened and endangered species in North America. Although I know that one of the allures of Vegas is that it is thought of as a desert oasis, I kept wondering: why does this resource-sucking city have to be in the middle of such a beautiful, delicate ecosystem? Jenna
A fabulous trip.

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