Dedicated to advancing scholarly and public understanding of the past, present, and future of western North America, the Center supports research, teaching, and reporting about western land and life in the United States, Canada, and Mexico.
Image: A young cutthroat trout caught during an electrofishing survey of Packsaddle Creek in Driggs, ID
By Christina Morrisett
B.S. Earth Systems, 2015
Environmental Modeling Intern, The Henry’s Fork Foundation
Read about our summer interns on the Out West student blog. Throughout the summer, the Center's interns and Research Assistants will be sending in virtual postcards, snapshots and reports on their summer work.
Having grown up in rural Alaska and having just graduated, I was ready to leave the Silicon Valley suburbs behind and return to a place that felt a little more like home. Almost immediately, southeastern Idaho gave me that feeling. With a little over 1,000 residents, Ashton, Idaho is cozy. Agricultural fields stretching across rolling hills to the base of the Grand Tetons provide open space that is plentiful and welcoming. And then, of course, there is the Henry’s Fork – a river many claim as home to the best fly-fishing in the nation (if not the world).
The Henry’s Fork Foundation is the only organization whose sole purpose is to conserve, protect, and restore the unique fisheries, wildlife, and aesthetic qualities of the Henry’s Fork and its watershed. Founded in 1984, HFF serves as “The Voice of the River,” conducting research to provide a scientific basis for management and decision-making in the Henry’s Fork watershed. Projects that monitor fish populations, study habitat-use, and reduce sediment load all contribute to the Foundation’s efforts to improve wild trout habitat and maintain angler satisfaction.
Already familiar with commercial fisheries and interested in pursuing a career in fisheries management, I sought out the opportunity to work with the Henry’s Fork Foundation to gain experience with sport fisheries. I wanted to learn about the research, management, and general atmosphere associated with sports fisheries - especially given that HFF works closely with different stakeholders like water users, hydroelectric power companies, government agencies, and other nonprofit groups. I am learning about all of these things and much more through two major projects:
1. Hydrologic modeling: Like the rest of the American West, Idaho is in a drought and as water needs become strained, politics become turbulent. In events like this, the importance of HFF’s role in communicating with a variety of stakeholders is heavily underlined. My primary role this summer is to graph how current river flows compare to past flows, incorporating diversion data from Idaho Dept. of Water Resources and reservoir discharge data from USGS. It’s a bit of statistics, a bit of math, and a whole lot of programming in R. It was challenging at first, but I’m enjoying it the more I learn.
2. Cutthroat trout population survey with Friends of the Teton River: Yellowstone cutthroat trout are native to the basin, but their populations are changing due to the range expansion of nonnative species like brook and rainbow trout (species that are prized in the sports fishery). The project uses fly-fishing and electrofishing (stunning fish with a weak electric field) strategies to capture trout for tagging and enumeration. Understanding how the cutthroat trout population is changing will inform future species recovery efforts. Electrofishing requires a lot of hiking and teamwork – it’s definitely a skill I’m happy to have learned!
When I’m not working, the other HFF interns and I can be found hiking in Grand Teton National Park, swimming around Jackson Hole, or, of course, fly-fishing on the Henry’s Fork. For more stories about everyday life here in Ashton, please check out HFF’s Intern Blog!
Photograph: L.A. Cicero, Stanford News Service
We're both sad to say goodbye to our Associate Director, Kathy Zonana, and pleased to see her move on to an editing position at Stanford Medicine magazine. For three years, Kathy has kept the Center running, from working with the Advisory Council, coordinating our 10-year review and handling some major gifts, to hiring staff and postdocs, to helping launch our first full-term undergraduate course, The American West. Not to mention putting on her sneakers and keeping our spirits up through several 20-mile hikes from Stanford to the Sea.
But above all, from my perspective, was Kathy's steady hand on public outreach work like our film series, guest speakers, book publications, and journalism projects. Her judgment and editing skills were a valuable backstop to our media projects, and she was an excellent ambassador for the Center at public events. Trained as a lawyer but with years of editorial experience, Kathy is a fine writer and a wonderful colleague, so while we will miss her dearly, we are glad to know that she is, to borrow a phrase from a 2012 Stanford News Service article featuring Kathy, "moving into news." We look forward to seeing her work in Stanford Medicine and seeing her around the Farm.
We will be posting more information about our staffing in the coming weeks, but in the meantime, please join us in wishing Kathy the very best for her next steps.
Frederic Remington's "Aiding a Comrade" from 1890 (Museum of Fine Arts, Houston/Public Domain)
The July/August issue of Stanford Magazine features the Center's undergraduate course The American West, which was offered for the second time during the spring quarter. The course, co-taught by professors from five different departments,"may be the most ambitiously multidisciplinary course on this or any other campus," says David M. Kennedy.
If you pick classes as if you're choosing from menus, The American West is where you go for fusion. Besides blending history, geography and politics with art and culture, the spring course brings together five noted professors in what amounts to an interdisciplinary banquet.
Bruce Cain is from political science, Shelley Fisher Fishkin from English, David Freyberg from civil and environmental engineering, David M. Kennedy from history, and Alexander Nemerov from art and art history. Each lecture session is usually apportioned among three of the professors, but there are periodic discussion segments in which they all participate.
The course will be offered again in the spring of 2016. More information is available on our website.
Sunset magazine covers from June 1978, July 1976 and July 1979. (Images via Stanford University Library)
Bill Marken is the former editor-in-chief of Sunset magazine, and other print and digital publications. He spent a year at the Bill Lane Center for the American West as a visiting scholar, researching a book on Sunset's influence on the West's postwar boom period. Here, Bill reflects on his time at Stanford and how it shaped his research.
When I first came to the Bill Lane Center for the American West for what turned out to be an eye-opening year, I wrote that I was developing a “narrative history of Sunset Magazine’s great success and influence in the West following World War II.” I was intending a book that focused on the groundbreaking period of the magazine’s two chief editors who preceded me: Walter Doty and Proctor Mellquist. They, along with Laurence and sons L.W. “Bill” and Mel Lane of course, were there for the 1940s-1960s when Sunset vividly reflected and also powerfully shaped the distinctive lifestyle emerging during a time of unprecedented western population growth, prosperity, and creativity.
My year at the Center helped turned that thinking around. True enough, Sunset’s postwar Doty/Mellquist period was extremely fertile, and the pages of the magazine were full of the new: midcentury modernism, leafy suburbs, back yard pools and barbecues, road trips with the station wagon, early ancestors of nachos. But the feedback and inspiration I got from the Center’s workshops, a public seminar, and discussions with colleagues gave me a deeper appreciation and understanding of the time I was at Sunset.
During my 32 years on the magazine (1964-1996, the last 15 years as editor in chief), Sunset also ventured into new ground – the threats to the West’s precious natural resources and the pressures of escalating population growth and development. At the Bill Lane Center last year, I was struck with how much of Sunset’s early environmental efforts overlapped with the Center’s current activities and how relevant some of those same complex issues are today.
From the late 1960s and well into the 1980s, the pages of the magazine reflected the changing West: the battle over Redwood National Park, alternatives to DDT in home gardens, UC Santa Cruz’s organic garden, threats to Tahoe, and much more. Sunset also dived deeply into two especially critical subjects that are getting considerable attention at the Center today: the California Coast and water.
The California Coastal Plan was triggered by a grass-roots storm that put an initiative on the 1972 ballot to protect the length of the coast. Mel Lane became the first coastal commissioner in 1976. At the time Mel was running Sunset’s book division (with Bill in charge of the magazine), and around the magazine we welcomed his involvement. Mel was extremely well liked and universally trusted, and his role on the commission didn’t affect what we did in the magazine. We approached the subject with a business-as-usual attitude (the last thing Mel would want would be articles that compromised his position or glorified it), mainly with articles advising readers on where and how to appreciate the coastal areas that were at stake.
Redwood National Park on California's northwest coast, established in 1968. (Image: Tim Parkinson via Flickr)
The plan and commission were groundbreaking in their scope and became a model used throughout the nation – even today.
These days at the Bill Lane Center for the American West, a team including Bruce Cain, Todd Holmes, and Iris Hui are unearthing the California Coastal Plan’s origin, impact, and ongoing lessons for the future. I will follow their work closely.
Another large issue of that same period has even more relevance today. The drought of 1976-77 – short by today’s standards, extremely severe by any standard – shocked all Californians. On the magazine, we responded in the way we knew would offer readers the most help around their homes: with how-to articles on drip irrigation, mulching, new plumbing solutions, and other practical solutions for conserving water. Probably Sunset’s main contribution was offering readers a new palette of drought-tolerant plants to work with. These plant lists were reprinted by the hundreds of thousands for East Bay Municipal Utility District customers; they were updated during the next drought in the late 1980s. As publisher of Sunset magazine, Bill Lane himself helped the editors give readers a heads-up on the water crises ahead. Through his service on the board of California Water Service, he learned early on about the University of Arizona’s tree-ring research that demonstrated historic patterns of long-term, repeated droughts. A 1970s Sunset article about the research warned of even more droughts looming in the future. In hindsight, though, I have to say that we could have done more to explain the larger forces at work: that California’s water supplies and policies were reaching their limits, not prepared for a future of water crises that loomed ahead.
Those larger forces are just what the Center and its Water in the West project – a collaboration with the Stanford Woods Institute – are facing head-on with initiatives such as “Understanding California’s Groundwater” and “Ensuring Water for Nature & People.”
As I chip away at my own book project, I now envision it stretching beyond the postwar boom into the era when we began to recognize and address environmental limits.
Thanks to the Bill Lane Center – Bruce Cain, Kathy Zonana, Geoff McGhee, Todd Holmes, Nick Bauch, Iris Hui, Janny Choy, Kathy Montgomery, and Minh Chau Ho – for so kindly welcoming me and expanding my perspective.
We’re proud to announce that Minh Chau Ho, the Center’s program associate, is headed to the University of Michigan later this month to begin the fully funded Frontiers master’s program in ecology and evolutionary biology.
In her nearly two years at the Center, Chau has coordinated our undergraduate offerings: research assistantships, summer internships, the American West interdisciplinary survey course and (last but not least) our Sophomore College field course, where she wrangled 12 sophomores as they traversed Wyoming to study energy issues.
Most of all, though, we will remember Chau as the intrepid leader, clad in a purple knit cap, whom we followed for 20 miles from Stanford to the Sea. We will miss her substantial contributions, but we are always excited when a member of our community gets a great opportunity to pursue a field she loves. Please join us in wishing happy trails to Chau.
First protected in 1864, Yosemite was California’s First National Park. 100 years later, part of the park was designated as a wilderness under the Wilderness Act of 1964. (Photo: Kira Minehart)
Kira Minehart will graduate from Stanford in the spring of 2016 with a B.S. in earth systems and a notation in science communication from the Program in Writing in Rhetoric. She is interested in land use, ecology, and environmental communication. Her independent research through the Bill Lane Center for the American West attempts to measure the ecology of Californian wilderness areas using geospatial analysis.
The wilderness act of 1964 states that wilderness is “an area where the earth and its community of life are untrammelled by man, where man himself is a visitor who does not remain.” This legislation set aside 9.1 million acres of wilderness that has grown to over 104 million acres, with the majority located in the western U.S. These protected areas are devoid of roads, buildings, and motorized vehicles. Aside from these stipulations, the definition of wilderness is as fluid as a flowing river.
Figure 1. (click to enlarge)
1. Coast Range
5. Sierra Nevada
6. Central California Foothills and Coastal Mountains
7. Central California Valley
8. Southern California Mountains
9. Eastern Cascades Slopes and Foothills
13. Central Basin and Range
14. Mojave Basin and Range
78. Klamath Mountains/California High North Coast Range
80. Northern Basin and Range
81. Sonoran Basin and Range
85. Southern California/Northern Baja Coast
For my research project, I attempted to define California’s wilderness areas through an academic approach integrating geospatial analysis and ecological data. My questions were: Which landscapes are most and least protected as federally designated wilderness areas? Which environmental factors do we deem congruent with the wilderness ideal?
I gathered data from two main sources for this project. The Wilderness Institute at the University of Montana’s College of Forestry and Conservation created the first dataset, which depicts the boundaries of federally protected wilderness areas in California. The second dataset contains “ecoregions,” which divide California into regions on the basis of biotic and abiotic features, including elevation, vegetation, geology, soils, climate, and more. James Omernik created this data in 1987 and has since collaborated with the EPA and other federal agencies to improve the results. For this analysis, I overlaid these two datasets, called shapefiles, in order to determine what ecoregions wilderness areas represented.
My preliminary results differed from my expectations based on the stereotypical perceptions of wilderness. I expected most of the protected wilderness to be in forest ecoregions, like the Sierra Nevada, Klamath Mountains, or Coast Range. Instead, I found that 42% of wilderness areas in California represented the Mojave Basin and Range ecoregion. This ecoregion is home to iconic National Parks like Joshua Tree and Death Valley. The Sierra Nevada ecoregion came in second place, including places like Yosemite and Sequoia-Kings Canyon National Park. The Northern Basin and Range, which harbors only one wilderness area (South Warner Wilderness), and the Coast Range ecoregions were the least protected by wilderness areas.
Table 1. Representation of ecoregions in California’s wilderness areas. Nearly 14% of California’s area is protected as wilderness.
In order to provide one possible explanation for my findings, I decided to compare population data with my preliminary results. I overlaid my wilderness data with a shapefile of 2014 census data depicting population by county. My results show that population density and wilderness areas are generally inversely located. As urban sprawl continues to push the limits of human civilization further and further, population density will likely play a key role in determining which areas can be set aside as wilderness.
Figures 2-4. (click to enlarge) Map of California’s wilderness landscape including population density data. Colored polygons represent wilderness areas, where each color corresponds to a particular ecoregion. Shades of grey indicate population density. Darkest shades are high-density population, where lighter to white shades are low-density population centers.
I would love to continue this project by combining my results with existing datasets of socioeconomic, political, or biological features to learn more. For example, land price data could provide meaningful results about wilderness placement, as it would demonstrate whether or not the wilderness areas were designated based on economic concerns. Since California is an agricultural hotspot, I would also like to examine wilderness in relation to agricultural suitability. In both cases, I hypothesize that lands with high land rents or opportunity costs for alternate land uses wouldn’t be designated as wilderness areas.
These landscapes provide aesthetic, educational, and recreational benefits that are unique to their untrammeled boundaries. Aside from land cover, wilderness areas represent an invaluable land use demonstrated by ecosystem services and American culture. Henry David Thoreau once said, “In wildness is the preservation of the world.” I think wilderness areas have benefits still unknown to us, particularly regarding the ecosystem services they offer. A wilderness can never be re-established once destroyed, which is why I support further research of these areas. Through increasing our understanding of wilderness areas, we may predict and control the trajectory of land protection (or destruction) in the future. I simply hope that we can protect these places so future generations may enjoy and benefit from them.
Treaty fishermen spearing salmon on rapids of the Columbia River near Celilo Falls, Oregon. Photograph taken by Arthur M. Prentiss before March 1957, when The Dalles Dam inundated the historic fishing site. (Public domain via University of Oregon Digital Collection)
John J. Dougherty joined the Center as a Postdoctoral Scholar after receiving his PhD in Ethnic Studies from the University of California-Berkeley. He is working on a book manuscript entitled "Flooded by Progress," a history of hydropower's transformation of the Columbia River Basin. An abbreviated book chapter was recently featured in Western Legal History.
In 1941, the United State Department of the Interior hired Woody Guthrie, the renowned American folksinger, to author a series of songs about the hydroelectric development of the Columbia River. Guthrie’s collection, known as the Columbia River Songs, sought to garner regional support for a new and unprecedented era of industrial development in the Pacific Northwest.
In his most famous ballad about the Columbia River, Guthrie sings: “Roll on Columbia, roll on/Your power is turning our darkness to dawn/So roll on, Columbia, roll on.” Guthrie’s ballad proved prophetic, as hydropower began to dramatically transform the region like never before. But by the 1970s the story had changed. Over thirty years of extensive industrial development had exacted a significant price on the region’s once abundant natural resources, and new policies of environmental protection and preservation emerged. In 1976, Joe Frazier, a columnist for The Associated Press, commented that the region’s once abundant natural resources had been sacrificed to the “god of cheap hydroelectric power.” It was obvious that the same technologies that made harvest possible in the first place now began to threaten it.
As a postdoctoral scholar at the Bill Lane Center, I’m working on a book manuscript about this period of Pacific Northwest history, titled "Flooded by Progress." This project expands our understanding of this period in a too-often-overlooked way, by asking the question: what role did federal Indian tribes of the Pacific Northwest play in the demographic, economic and environmental transformation of the region in the second half of the 20th century?
This project examines the politics of federal Indian law and the changing environmental landscape in the Pacific Northwest from the 1940s to present. It argues that the changing legal status of Native lands and resources was instrumental in both the industrial expansion of the region and the environmental changes associated with the increased development of natural resources. This project directly utilizes Western environmental history to help narrate Native American and Pacific Northwest history. From the era of resource abundance of the late 1940s to the era of resource scarcity by the 1970s, environmental history provides a direct response to explaining shifts in Indian policy and natural resource management trends. And while this project is geographically and temporally located in the 20th-century Pacific Northwest, it reflects broader trends of demographic growth, environmental decline, and indigenous displacement that have characterized the American West. An abbreviated book chapter was recently featured in Western Legal History.
I began my position with the Bill Lane Center for the American West in August 2014, and in my short time on campus, this project, as well as my scholarly trajectory in general, has taken both important and necessary directions. The overwhelming strength of the Center is their dedication to a multifaceted and interdisciplinary understanding of the American West, but in a way that extends beyond academia and promotes public engagement. The Center accomplishes this by bringing together scholars, journalists, policymakers, students, teachers, and most importantly, stakeholders in particular issues. Because of this mission, I have redirected key parts of my own work. The Center’s bi-weekly working group as well as its collaborations with Stanford’s Water in the West program and Woods Institute for the Environment has contributed a more nuanced and dynamic understanding of environmental policy, natural resource management, and regional politics to my current work. Additionally, the Center’s sophisticated use of data visualization and digital humanities has forced me to reconsider how my own scholarly work can be presented and disseminated to a broader nonscholarly audience. I look forward to another year of fruitful collaborations.