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August 2017
All Aboard for August!
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Dear ,
Happy Fog-ust! Fog… August… Fogust? Faugust? Ok, it sounded better in my head. June gloom, July whiteout, summer bummer, Karl the Fog (check out his twitter account), call it what you want, but the fog along our coastline has a character all of its own. Who knew that water vapor could inspire so many fans, such creativity, such growth, and so many bad puns? Here’s to a celebration of that mystical mist!
In This Newsletter:
The Fog People – A Short Story
By Gina Shearn
We wonder at the fog. Curse it. Hate it. Wish the sun would exert its power over it and burn away every trace. We don’t understand it. We call it out of place. It is unwanted… unwanted by us—
But not them.
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A bird emerges from the fog -- what else lies within?
Photo Credit Gina Shearn
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There is a legend, a legend of a tribe dwelling deep within the wilderness of Crystal Springs Reservoir. I’ve heard rumors of them, dressed all in white and blending in with the thick fog that smothers the hill tops. Since most people are banned from ever setting eyes on the pristine land behind the fence, I laughed them off, chalking up the rumors to boredom and a way to add mystery to a place largely unknown.
“You just saw firefighters in suits,” I’d tell them, “there are always burns going on out there.”
How wrong I was.
I was out near the reservoir one day, looking for seeds for a local restoration project. I was alone, but feared nothing—mountain lions would leave me alone, coyotes would run from me, and there were no poisonous snakes to listen for. As I searched, I felt a chill in the air and looked up to see clouds rolling in. I groaned. The fog was coming in.
My truck was parked at the top of one of the hills where the thin trail down to the water began. I’d have to hike back up to get there.
As I climbed, the wind picked up. I felt the mist thicken as I neared the top of the hill. Pulling my beanie close over my ears, I stumbled as a sharp gust of wind blasted across my body. The weather had changed so fast! I was close to my truck now; I could almost see it through the haze blotting my vision. But the fog was so thick now, the wind so strong that I feared I may lose it. Scrambling against the gale, I was about to reach out to open the door when I heard a whining cry. I glanced to my right and saw a flash of a furry tail and— Who is that?
A figure, no more than 20 yards away, stood strong and tall in the wind and mist. Thick fog danced all around, leaving it visible one instant, shrouded the next. It was dressed all in white, though the edges were soft and blurred, looking less like clothing and more like the fog itself.
The figure turned. It faced me now as I huddled against the cold steel of the truck. A deep thrumming pulsed through the air and from beside the white figure a coyote crept forward, hackles high, teeth bared. It leered at me… then broke into a run!
I screamed and slipped on the wet gravel beneath my feet. The coyote lunged and I scrambled into a run, heading for the bushes down the opposite side of the hill from whence I came. I heard another deep thrum and the coyote stopped chasing. I glanced back, but the laces of my boots caught a branch and I tripped!
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A trail - Escape!
Photo Credit Gina Shearn |
I began to skid and roll down the hillside, down, down, down… dirt flew, bushes tore at my face, and the mist, the ever persistent mist, swarmed around me like hungry bees….
When I finally stopped, muddy and scratched, I was at the edge of a small clearing between bushes at the bottom of the hill I had just tumbled down. I squinted my eyes and realized... I was squinting?
Puzzled, I glared up at the bright, cloudless sky. Fog and mist clung to the edges of the clearing, desperately scratching to get in, but it was held back. I heard a gurgling sound and noticed a spring feeding into a little pond. The water was murky brown but as I watched, a small blue butterfly flitted into view. It paused by a lupine and took a sip, but then it went to the water’s edge.
As I watched, the butterfly dipped its head to the surface and, upon its touch, the brown color dissipated. The water was becoming crystal clear, radiating out from where the butterfly landed. Once the water was as clear as the blue sky, the butterfly leapt into the air and soared away over the spring. In the distance I heard the faint whine of a coyote and a deep thrumming again. Around the clearing, the fingers of the fog curled in on themselves and slowly retreated. I saw, to my amazement, a bright sunny sky as far as the eye could see.
The fog was gone.
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I’m not sure how the mysterious figure commands the fog. I’m not even sure if I saw one, many, or none at all. I’m even further mystified when I think about the butterfly. How did it clear the water? Why was it surrounded by fog? The fog could have been herding the little blue thing to the brown water or protecting it, I can’t say for sure.
What I can do, however, is admit that I will never know everything about this Earth, but I do know that I shall always give thanks for the fog.
[This is all fiction and based on fictitious events and ideas. Mission blue butterflies do not clean water and there are not fog people commanding coyotes at Crystal Springs Reservoir. Thank you for indulging my imagination!]
California, the Foggy State
By Steve Wilson
Fog. Some love it, some hate it. No matter what, our unusual geography ensures that we have an ocean of it here in San Mateo County. While it’s not great for your summer tan, here are some interesting fog facts to brighten your day.
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Cobweb thistle, Cirsium occidentale
Photo by Steve Wilson |
Take a walk among the scrubby plants of the California Coast on a foggy day and you’ll see many plants that are drenched in condensation. The many fine leaves of the coyote bush and California sage have plenty of surface area for fog to condense, and the silky hairs of the cobweb thistle make for a perfect mesh to condense dewdrops from the air.
Perhaps the fog’s most well-known beneficiary is the coast redwood (Sequoia sempervirens), which can get up to half of its water intake just from fog. Until recently we thought it was only fog drip—condensed droplets that fall to the ground—that was feeding the trees’ roots. Now we know that these giant trees can actually take in water through their needles, hundreds of feet up in the air. Since then we’ve learned that other California native plants—sword ferns, tanoaks, and huckleberries, to name a few—are also capable of this “foliar uptake” of fog water. (Source)
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Mori’s Point Inn
Conservancy file photo |
But it’s not just water that fog provides; when the 18th amendment prohibited alcohol across the nation, the thick fog of coastal San Mateo County provided an important resource for enterprising locals: cover from the authorities.
Picture this: under cover of fog and darkness Jack Mori (son of Stephano Mori, for whom Mori Point is named) starts up a car engine. He puts it in gear and cables start to whirr through a pulley anchored to the cliff. Soon, a small boat laden with cases of scotch emerges from the surf and the fog. He unloads the cargo and sends the boat back out to sea where it meets a ship anchored off shore, full of liquor destined for Mori’s Point Inn and perhaps other speakeasies. When the family was finally busted in 1923, authorities confiscated more than 24,000 cases of scotch from the family farm. (Source)
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Fog collection in the Atacama Desert, Chile
Photo via Wikimedia Commons/Nicole Saffie
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Wet winter aside, Californians know a thing or two about water scarcity, and perhaps we can learn a thing or two from our leafy neighbors. Taking a hint from the cloud forests bordering the extremely arid Atacama Desert in South America, researchers have built fog-catching “billboards” to harvest the coastal fog that often blankets the desert, which local farmers have begun to use to irrigate their crops (source). Who knows, maybe one day we’ll be able to tap our homes directly into the fog stream above our heads and learn to love those gray days a little more.
Regular Volunteer Information and Work Day Schedules
Feel like giving your time to do some rad restoration work? Look no further! Join us any Saturday of the month to be a part of habitat restoration in action! You can sign up individually for a Saturday, or register a whole group for a special program during the week.
Regular San Mateo Parks Stewardship Drop-In Dates
Saturdays, 10 am–1 pm
Work day events include a combination of hands-on service projects and short natural or cultural history talks. To learn more or sign up, visit our website by clicking here.
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Awesome volunteers from Intuit at Rancho Corral de Tierra
Photo by Steve Wilson |
Rancho Corral de Tierra
Mori Point
Milagra Ridge
We can’t stress enough how much we appreciate the helping hands of everyone who comes out to volunteer! You really are an incredible force for good in our local national parks.
Many thanks,
Team San Mateo
Georgia, Gina, Steve, and Tina 
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