The lodgepole pines seventy-feet high tops, some apparently healthy, and some definitely dead, danced energetically, following one another in a line dance or jitterbugging en-face to the changing tune of the warm Wyoming wind. A low creaking voice emanated from the stand, and either moaned in despair or sighed in contentment. Green trees mingled graciously with drab brown ones, all stately and elegant. One lone pine, her bare roots exposed from windthrow, reclined at a forty degree angle. Her brittle, lifeless trunk led halfway up to where a green limb shimmied defiantly and higher still to where a long, limp branch hung, supported lovingly by the neighboring upright dead trees.
Having peddled the twenty-one mile long, gravel covered Medicine Bow Rails to Trails bike path, I rested at the border, where the Colorado sky seemed bluer than the cloud strewn Wyoming counterpart.
Just like the mosquitoes that feasted on my flesh, the mountain pine bark beetle respected no border. The United States Forestry Service employees educated me. During the last four plus years, the pine bark beetle has killed eighty to ninety percent of the mature lodgepole pine forests in Colorado and southern Wyoming. Weeks long cold spells with temperatures lower than minus twenty degrees will kill the pine bark beetle larvae. In the absence of sufficient cold, mature trees weaken and succumb. Younger trees, whose bark is thinner and less insulating, may survive.
The pine bark beetles are both agents of death and of regeneration. The forest will replenish itself. Aided by fire, the pinecones will eventually release their seeds. Perhaps in thirty years, the lodgepole pines will stand thirty feet high, and in eighty years, will replicate the forests we admired ten years ago. Aspens, that can grow six feet per year, will fill in and provide color. Change in an ecosystem is constant and normal.
The change is not always convenient. I had planned to camp at Lake Owen Campground; it was closed and will be for the foreseeable future. Dead logepole pines must be cleared; otherwise, they may fall and destroy a tent, a RV, or a person. Flooding also threatens the campground. Mountain snow pack is twenty-five percent above normal. A healthy lodgepole pine consumes gallons of water. A dead pine ignores water.
During each of the past two years, the United States Forest Service budget has been reduced by twenty percent. More work and less resources result in closed campgrounds.
Before planning a camping trip in the Medicine Bow-Routt National Forests, seek information through the Internet or call the Laramie Ranger District, (303) 745-2300. Dispersed camping is permissible. Camp free in an area of your choice. Plan for the lack of amenities, no potable water, no bathroom facilities.
Concerning the budget woes, communicate with your Congressmen. The squeaky wheel may get the oil. Currently, there’s a whole lot of squeaking and too little oil.
Whether you interact with the forest in an up-close, cozy style or admire the high mountains from the highway, learn to appreciate a different changing beauty. React to our forests like we react to a growing child. We coo at the newborn, marvel at his first years” growth, chase the toddler, rejoice during his school years, worry during his early adulthood, sigh as he approaches middle age, and likely will not live to see how he ages.
Change is constant and worthy of our awe.
Jean Trester (jrdtpost@gmail.com) of Centennial is a retired nurse.
