Pristine Yosemite spots might be left to memories

A tent sits near Lake Eleanor just inside the Yosemite National Park boundary before the Rim Fire burned throughout the area, taking all of the walk-in campsites around the lake with it. A tent sits near Lake Eleanor just inside the Yosemite National Park boundary before the Rim Fire burned throughout the area, taking all of the walk-in campsites around the lake with it. Photo: Michael Furniss, Courtesy Photo Photo: Michael Furniss, Courtesy Photo Image 1 of / 3 Caption Close Pristine Yosemite spots might be left to memories 1 / 3 Back to Gallery

The wild country where so many have felt the ghost of John Muir is now at risk of burning up.

The Rim Fire, on its way to being one of the biggest wildfires in California history, is devouring so much land that you probably know somebody or some place directly affected by it.

You may have camped, boated and fished at Cherry Lake, or may have hiked and swum at Lake Eleanor. Or been among the few to canyoneer below the Poopenaut Valley in the Tuolumne Canyon, rafted Cherry Valley or bought a cold drink at the store at Camp Mather. The forest there has been rendered to cinders.

The coming days will tell yet another tale.

In western Yosemite, if you have ventured from Hetch Hetchy up past Beehive, or beyond the Hetch Hetchy Dome to the Tiltill Valley and nearby Mount Gibson and beyond, you may have felt the presence of Muir. This was his church, where America's great mountaineer, conservationist and glaciologist ventured alone to find divine blessing. That region is now at risk.

Some people think that all fires are good or that all are bad, but each one has to be assessed as unique. The Rim Fire, a fast-moving inferno, has destroyed 200,000 acres of forests that will take 25 to 100 years to regrow. What's left behind are burning stumps and smoking tree skeletons. The fire rages and rampages, and wildlife will try to outrun the flames (or hide in the ground) to survive. Some won't make it.

Over time, what is ideal is the opposite, lots of small, low-heat fires that burn off chemise, manzanita and pine needles. These small fires recharge the soil with nitrogen, give rise to fresh browse for wildlife and clear brush for migration routes. Small, low-heat ground fires do not kill the big trees or devastate wildlife, watersheds and infrastructure.

With the Rim Fire, memories have a way of eating at your mind. Those who have camped in this area can tell you how the wildfire destruction is heartbreaking.

Last year, I drove all the forest roads and jeep roads in the area, from Camp Mather to the remote east side of Cherry Lake, near a trailhead into Yosemite and to Lake Eleanor. This wild country was stunning, with its deep Tuolumne canyons and the gorgeous streams at their bases, edged by rich forests that reached skyward up the steep terrain to the ridgetops. The view over Cherry Lake and across the surrounding forest was idyllic. Most of that burned to a crisp last week.

From the east side of Cherry Lake, we then hiked over a ridge into Yosemite to Lake Eleanor and camped on a peninsula on the western shore. It felt like paradise. We had passing visits from wildlife, and the world seemed at peace. All that is gone. At midweek, the fire burned right down to the shore of the lake and destroyed all the hike-in campsites.

From the shore of Lake Eleanor, we crossed over the dam, headed past the head of the lake and up a ridge, where we encountered a bear that scampered off. All of that burned, and the bear, like all wildlife, will try to outrun the fire.

We then camped at Laurel Lake, Lake Vernon, crossed over the top of Mount Gibson and descended into the Grand Canyon of the Tuolumne and to Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. Over the weekend, I'll post photos of the trip at www.sfgate.com/outdoors to show what the area looked like before the big fire.

Along the southern reaches of Hetch Hetchy, the forests have burned up to the bare granite backsides of 7,751-foot Smith Peak and towering Kolana Rock.

Just north of Hetch Hetchy is 8,412-foot Mount Gibson. The trail does not rise for a summit view, but instead is nearly flat on top and is routed for a mile amid lush, waist-high bracken ferns below an old-growth pine forest, and aside creeks and pristine meadows with wildflowers. It is one the most special places I have been.

At one point, to stop time and take in the moment, I sat against a scraggly pine, hundreds of years old. I felt an unmistakable sense of the presence of those who had passed before in this spot. I imagined Muir here, at what he called "a bee garden." I also felt others who had been here and taken a piece of it with them in their hearts forever when they left.

A lot of people know how this feels. As the fire advances, I keep thinking about that old pine I leaned against on Mount Gibson while I soaked up Muir's bee garden, and whether it will be spared.

If you love the area where the Rim Fire is burning, you probably check the updated fire maps often to see its progress. You too may have a special memory from a place that is threatened.

At the Camp Mather Store, I remember the happy smile and the inevitable wisecrack from the guy who sold me a beer. With everything scorched black around Camp Mather, one wonders how the place will function, and what the future holds.

Above Hetch Hetchy, there is an area that spans roughly from above Wapama Falls to Lake Vernon where the forest transitions to a glacially sculpted granite plate. There are many paths the fire could take, but one hope is that it hits that granite, runs out of fuel and stops its eastward surge through the park.

With wildfires, we're all prisoners of hope. They are the scariest things I know to live with, worse than earthquakes, hurricanes, tornadoes and floods, and you can only hope that the places you treasure are spared.