Randi Kreiss

The mega-drought, coming to a neighborhood near you

Posted

I’ve come back from the future, and if you plan on going, you’d better wear your fire-retardant underwear.

My summer vacation was to Northern California, where I stayed with my kids and their children, 6 and 8. Aside from my grandma hat, I wore my traveler’s hat and, of course, my journalist’s hat, observing and experiencing what life is like in the rural West. It isn’t Kansas, let me tell you, and it isn’t Long Island, by a long shot. The dry air sucks the moisture out of everything, including people. I will never again complain about humidity.

The three-year, enduring drought holds the land out there in a death grip. It is the single most dramatic fact of life. My kids live in a house 30 minutes from the nearest town, surrounded by a skinny border of grass they consider their “fire break” and a couple of acres of sagebrush, pine trees and low scrub. Coyotes skulk around at dawn and dusk, deer graze freely, and the occasional bobcat wanders by. Because of the drought, the house and the surrounding property are all potential kindling.

Life is different out there. No one takes baths. One-minute showers are encouraged, and no one flushes every time. Because of the elevation, 6,300 feet, you have to drink water pretty much all day, so the no-flush rule can become a challenge.

The big news, day to day, is where the wildfires are and which way the wind is blowing. Last fall, school was closed for two days because the smoke in the air was deemed unhealthy for children.

People move to this area because they want to commune with nature, and they’re devoted to the activities that life in Northern California offers: mountain biking, kayaking, hiking, sledding and, primarily, skiing.

A friend of my kids, an E.R. doc, does 100-mile runs once or twice a year. No one has just a car. They have vehicles with complex roof racks and kayak mounts. No one has just a dog. They have retrievers and hounds that better know how to keep pace with a bicycle or a high-energy hiker. Small dogs are just bait for the coyotes.

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