Cuttin' ivy in Oakland's urban redwood forest

City passes urban forest plan with $8 million from Inflation Reduction Act, which allots $1.5 billion nationwide. Plus, an adventure out of a steep ravine.

A couple of days into the New Year, with the kid still asleep, mom painting watercolors and hubby watching soccer, the sun had popped out after a couple of weeks of rain, and I couldn’t stay still. I shut the computer and put on some mud-proof clothes. Sometimes you’ve just got to get outside.

I headed to a redwood grove next to a freeway in Oakland, California, and spent a couple of hours cutting ivy off of at least ten bay trees. On a recent hike there, I noticed that a volunteer organization has been removing ivy from this forest. Battling ivy is contagious.

English ivy has taken over dozens of acres of Dimond Park, a long sliver of green running from the hills to the Dimond District and buttressing Sausal Creek, home to rainbow trout. The park is a busy refuge for many seeking shade and nature in an increasingly hot Oakland. The ivy has already strangled many trees. Fallen trunks litter the forest. Ivy breaks branches with its weight and robs leaves of sunlight. In this park, many pines, oaks, bays and redwoods have succumbed to its slow smothering.

The Friends of Sausal Creek has been working to save the most precious of the park’s trees — the redwoods — and holds volunteer events in this forest every Sunday. But this day, I was there on my own. I went rogue. I couldn’t help it.

Soon, a huge vine as big as my forearm caught my eye. It was wrapped around a young California bay tree down a steep ravine. I descended further into the shadows to get to this monster …

monster ivy

About 150 years ago, none of this was here. It had all been logged to bare dirt. But the miraculous thing about redwoods is — they don’t die when logged. They can survive catastrophic fire.¹ Second-growth forests arise naturally from the living roots and stumps. In fact, the forest I’m now in once contained a sawmill that fueled construction in booming San Francisco.

A pile of ivy decomposes in front of a fairy ring of redwoods in Oakland, California, a sign of recent volunteer work. The trees pictured here sprouted from the living roots of an old-growth giant that was cut down circa 1850. The cut stump is that 12-foot wide section in the middle. Amanda Royal photo.

Joaquin Miller’s house, circa 1886. The hill behind the house is now a thick redwood forest and regional park named after Miller, a historical figure, poet and adventurer. The forest featured in this story, Monterey Redwoods in Dimond Park, is adjacent to but divided from Joaquin Miller Park by a four-lane highway.

Though named after a tree, Oakland has struggled to maintain its urban tree cover since the 2008 financial crisis prompted the city to slash its budget and shut its tree planting and pruning program. Online news site Oaklandside reported that the city lost 274 acres of tree cover between 2014 and 2020.

After passing the redwood trees at the beginning of the park that were free of ivy, I’d convinced myself that redwood bark wouldn’t support ivy. Further into the park, I learned that was far from true. The volunteers have already saved those first trees (see above video).

Bring on the $8M forest plan!

That’s why it’s such great news that the city recently received an $8 million grant from the Inflation Reduction Act to plant thousands of trees in its poorest neighborhoods and enhance and protect existing urban forest. The City Council approved its first urban forest plan in December. Go Oakland!

The Plan lays out an equitable vision for the care, maintenance, and growth of Oakland’s urban forest over the next 50 years, including the roughly 68,000 public trees that are on streets and in parks throughout Oakland. It is a roadmap to a healthier Oakland, by making its trees less susceptible to wind and drought, and providing benefits like cleaner air and cooler neighborhoods.

This is climate adaptation in action. Nuala Bishari, a columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle called the forest plan “visionary”:

Studies show that rates of obesity, cognitive decline, high blood pressure, depression and stress drop for residents who live in areas with more trees.

Two studies of tree canopy cover — in Baltimore and New Haven, Conn. — determined that neighborhoods with many trees saw fewer property crimes and violent crimes than areas with none, independent of income, population density and socioeconomic variables.

The money is part of $1.5 billion directed to the U.S. Forest Service by the Inflation Reduction Act that will be spread across all 50 states to boost urban forests. States, cities, native tribes, universities and faith-based communities are receiving grants to bring the benefits to their communities.

In a worsening climate crisis, protecting, restoring and building urban forest cover is more important than ever. Asphalt and concrete retain heat long after the sun goes down. With cities growing hotter every year, urban planners are increasingly promoting the benefits of tree cover. In addition to helping keep cities cool, urban forests reduce flooding, create wildlife habitat, filter air and water, and capture carbon.

In 2019, Paris recorded its highest temperature ever, at 108.7 °F (42.6 °C). That year, 1,435 people died in heat waves in France. This was the city’s answer:

Source: LinkedIn

Feeling Oaklandish … loving local trees

I don’t live in Oakland anymore, but I still love it. Its unofficial slogan, initiated by a city revival movement and then popularized by a clothing brand, is “Oaklandish,” which celebrates roots and “loving local.” If you live in an urban area, search your town for “Friends of” volunteer groups or tree foundations. We could all become a little more Oaklandish when it comes to preserving urban forests.

Oaklandish adds roots to the city's traditional logo.

Not sure why I feel like a rebel expressing love for Oakland. The closer you get to it, the more you feel its vibrant, beating heart. Oakland is home to one of the largest rooftop gardens in the world. Meanwhile, salmon returned to Lake Merritt in November, the first time in 100 years, after a restoration project reconnected the lake to the San Francisco Bay and water quality significantly improved.

Redwoods are as much a part of Oakland as oaks. You might sit next to a giant redwood at your favorite bar’s outdoor patio, or walk among hundreds of acres of second-growth redwoods at Joaquin Miller Park or Redwood Regional Park. Redwood needles turn fog into rain, nourishing ecosystems below.

Dimond Park’s Monterey Redwoods sit right next to a four-lane highway. These many acres of second-growth trees are frequented by joggers, bikers, and kids seeking steep rope swings, the place where this antsy writer gets excited about destroying English ivy ...

Ivy on young bay trees, Dimond Canyon, Oakland.

Late afternoon brought dimmer light. I wondered if I should have wandered so far down the steep ravine. I peered up toward the trail. The hillside seemed much more vertical than before. And very muddy. Slick. I’d grown addicted to cutting ivy. Only ten minutes of hacking with my gardening saw and another ivy vine was dead, another tree might live. But now I needed to get out with my limbs intact.

I tested the ground and slipped — ever so slowly — down again. My breath quickened. I thought of my family and checked that my phone was still snug in my pocket. Vines, roots and shoots crisscrossed the mud, quiet and unfamiliar. Voices trailed away, maybe fifty yards up.

Had I really grown so obsessed that I’d come down this far? How did I get here? I was now closer to the creek than the trail. I considered walking down to the creek and then following it back. But between me and the water, ivy tangled waist-high with other thorny, poisonous plants. I wanted none of that.

I reached for the exposed root of a bay I’d just freed. It was darn solid. I pulled myself up, swung around its trunk and wedged my foot at its base. Up higher, another root barely inched into reach. Then a tiny bay, a sturdy little sapling, offered a hand.

My breath calmed. Muscle memory kicked in. I used to climb rocks. Big, smooth granite. But climbing earth and trees was a new flavor. The perfume of bay laurel calmed me. I entered the zone.

My feet dangled freely at times. Giddiness bubbled up as my intimacy deepened with the trees whose choking vines I’d just severed. Their bark scratched my cheek as I hugged them for dear life.

I reached a crux, where all the holds disappeared. A rock beckoned from the mud. It appeared solid. I grabbed it but the soft soil yielded it to my hand, a football-sized chunk. I tossed it.

The trees were the only answer. Their roots shoot deep into this land, strong, tender fingers anchored firmly into the heart of Oakland. They aren’t going anywhere. I stretched and found another offering, then zigzagged up the ravine, one root and trunk at a time.

I reached for the trees. And they held me and ushered me back to the light.

Your hands itch to pull out invasive species and replant the native flowers. Your finger trembles with a wish to detonate the explosion of an obsolete dam that would restore a salmon run. These are antidotes to the poison of despair.
— Robin Wall Kimmerer, “Braiding Sweetgrass”

California bay laurel flower

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Hopeful headlines

From KQED radio: Oakland’s ‘Negus In Nature’ Goes From the Forest to the Big Screen

Finding space to create community isn’t a luxury readily afforded to large groups of young Black folks. But in Oakland, there’s a collective doing just that by stepping into the biggest venue of them all: nature.

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Need some climate hope?

Sam Matey

held a party with Climate Action Now’s

Your Daily Dose of Climate Hope

that was incredibly inspiring. Watch the recording here or view the presentation.

“From the mid-1970s to the early 2020s, cumulative shipments of photovoltaics increased by a factor of a million, which is 20 doublings. At the same time prices dropped by a factor of 500.”

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One more Pacific atoll free of invasive rats. The incredible group Island Conservation has done it again:

These islets, which serve as nesting sites for Pacific bird species and hatcheries for endangered green sea turtles, were under severe threat from invasive rats that damaged local habitats, depleted natural food sources, and disrupted ecological balance.

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From Bay Nature Magazine: A Legal Settlement Will Usher In a Wilder Point Reyes

Endangered tule elk will roam free of fences at 71,000-acre Point Reyes National Seashore under an agreement to retire dairy farming. Point Reyes’ pristine beaches are also home to endangered elephant seals. Grey whales can be spotted from its cliffs overlooking the Pacific Ocean.

While some grasslands will be maintained through “targeted” grazing of beef cattle, others will mature into coastal scrub, with coyote brush, coffeeberry and dense tangles of chaparral. And many of the much-contested fences will come down. The new goal is to manage an ecosystem that allows wide-ranging species, including tule elk, to move freely across the landscape.

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From the Times Union: New York will protect 1 million additional acres of wetlands by 2028

Alex Wolf, a conservation scientist for Scenic Hudson, said wetlands are especially important in and near urban areas. Cities are filled with impervious surfaces such as roads and sidewalks that do not absorb rainwater, which can lead to flash flooding, Wolf said.

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From the Minnesota Post: An ecosystem engineer’s vision: mock beaver dams to restore Wisconsin wetlands

Hoffman, 60, hopes the [dams], which could pool up to 1.7 acre-feet of water during floods, improve water quality, stabilize eroded stream banks and enhance wildlife habitat. Most of all, he seeks to trailblaze a path through the state’s onerous dam-permitting process so other Wisconsin landowners can follow in his footsteps.

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From NPR: How one U.S. conservationist's work is helping to preserve Chile's wilderness

In March this year, 315,000 acres around Cape Froward, the southernmost point of the South American continent, will become Chile's 47th national park.

The initiative is in large part thanks to the efforts of U.S. conservationist and philanthropist Kristine Tompkins, and will become the latest step in her mission to protect one of the last truly wild places on Earth.

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A shout out to Good Fire

There’s been a lot of talk of good fire (cultural burns, controlled burns and prescribed fire) helping to prevent or slow down megafires in California. I wanted to share this video from a few years ago, put together by The Associated Press, about the Yurok Tribe’s efforts to reintroduce fire onto their land so they can have the right materials to build their traditional baby baskets, among many other reasons.

More frequent, low-intensity fire can reduce dead wood, recycle nutrients, and create clearings in the forest for deer and elk. Just like redwoods, the roots of the understory shrubs can survive fire and send out delicious green shoots for these animals when they recover. In addition, the black-backed woodpecker only nests in burnt trees.

Good fires can be done when temperatures are cool, winds are calm, or when rain is forecast.

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About Earth Hope:

Earth Hope is a solutions-based journalism project that highlights environmental success stories from around the globe, because hope is the foundation of progress. I’m Amanda Royal, a former newspaper reporter and current eco-news junkie. Read more about this project and what inspired it.

Visit earthhope.substack.com for more stories.

winter blooms

1. Save the Redwoods League: New discovery shows how redwoods regrow after extreme fires