THE WAR-ZONE FOREST OF THE KERN 

 By Walter Mulford 

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^HE Chagoopa Plateau, with its Sky-Parlor Meadow, its 



X Moraine Lake, its forest of subalpine pines, and its rock- 

 ribbed ring of impressive peaks — what a joy it was ! Sunrise 

 over Mount Whitney and the main crest of the Sierra; sunset 

 behind the Great Western Divide, outhned sharply but not 

 harshly across the lake; the climb heavenward to the top of 

 Kaweah ; the descent to the beautiful cafion of the Big Arroyo ; 

 the brilliant moonlight, making lodgepole and foxtail more im- 

 pressive and hiding for a time the scars of the grim fight waged 

 by these hardy pines against frost and wind, drought and beetle 

 — to those of us who were there nothing further is needed to 

 recall happy memories of a camp-site richly endowed with 

 charm and interest and comfort. Some of us went on long side- 

 trips. Some of us, responsive to the influence of high life, in- 

 dulged in that wild camp cabaret. Some of us even tried to get 

 lost on that confusing plateau. Finally, all of us passed on, 

 more or less thoughtlessly, to other parts of the wonderland. 



More or less thoughtlessly ! If anyone had asked us whether 

 we would wish the beauty of that high plateau to be permanent, 

 there could have been but one answer. If we had been asked 

 further whether it would still be beautiful without the forest, 

 there would have come an equally emphatic reply. Treeless 

 wastes are fascinating — or repellent. They are often inspiring 

 in their bigness, in their evidence of great power behind and 

 beyond. But they are rarely beautiful. And they are never 

 good places in which to live or camp. Unconsciously we knew 

 that we owed the beauty and comfort of our Chagoopa camp 

 primarily to the forest. Did we stop to wonder whether the 

 forest would be there always ? 



Perhaps we did not notice the signs of social instability in this 

 community of Chagoopa Forest. Most of the citizens are old 

 folks — several centuries old, although only from one to three 

 feet in diameter. Very many of them are far past their prime, 



