Glorious spring weather in Fresno makes it tougher to stay home. Here’s why we should
In the year of coronavirus, even the glories of spring can be agonizing.
Temperatures are mild. The sun is shining and rain clouds have cleared. Air quality is pristine. Wildflowers are blooming.
And yet we’re all stuck at home — at the strong urging of every health expert and elected official from Gov. Gavin Newsom to Fresno County Sheriff Margaret Mims.
Sigh. Call it a collective case of the quarantine blues.
Recently, a Facebook friend posted several pictures from a hike he took along the Upper Kings River above Pine Flat Lake. It’s a place known to fly fishermen and whitewater paddlers but few others, primarily due to the long, winding drive on a narrow road that turns to bumpy dirt in the last six miles before the trailhead.
The pictures showcase a banner year for wildflowers in this foothill river canyon. Poppies and lupine cover green hillsides. Meadows are dotted with blue, violet, pink and yellow petals. I can scarcely imagine a better place to spend an afternoon.
Gazing at the images on my computer screen, I wanted nothing more than to transport myself into the lush scenery, along with a couple good friends and a fully loaded picnic basket.
Unfortunately, those impulses will have to wait. Because staying home or close to it, no matter how painful, is the responsible thing to do while we as a community try to bend this COVID-19 curve.
Oh, sure. I could make an exception for myself (and in my younger days probably would’ve). Done the hike several times and always go prepared. Except there’s no cell reception back there. What happens if I get bit by a rattlesnake, which are active this time of year, or slip on a wet boulder and break my ankle?
Both scenarios could necessitate a wilderness rescue, along with a trip to the emergency room. All while exposing others to unnecessary risk and sucking up resources that would be better used elsewhere.
Rules apply to you, too
That’s not me being a worry wart. It’s about being prudent during a public health crisis and not wanting to be “that guy.”
This view won’t be popular in some quarters. On a Facebook page devoted to this year’s class of Pacific Crest Trail hikers, some of whom have already started their 2,650-mile trek, a debate rages between those who believe non-essential travel applies to the backcountry and others who think wilderness is an ideal place for social distancing.
There will always be some people who act like the rules don’t apply to them. Get enough of those individuals together and you’ll end up in a situation where staying six feet apart becomes exceedingly difficult. Setting up the exact conditions COVID-19 needs to spread.
Don’t believe that? Drive out to Table Mountain Casino this weekend, follow Sky Harbor Road until it dead ends and see how many people are crammed onto the San Joaquin River Trail.
No, we don’t have to sit inside our homes 24/7 and continuously disinfect our counters and door knobs. We can go on walks or jogs through our neighborhoods. (I’m seeing a lot more people using canal banks for these purposes, a development that won’t please the Fresno Irrigation District.) We can go on bike rides as long as it’s not with a group. Lakes may be closed to boating, but we can still find a spot away from others to wet a line.
COVID-19 measures are working
We all want our lives, including our recreational choices, to return to normal as soon as possible. At the same time, there is mounting evidence our sacrifices have resulted in fewer coronavirus cases, hospitalizations and deaths than originally feared.
That doesn’t mean the pandemic was overblown. It means the extreme measures we’re taking are working. Now’s not the time to backslide and waste all that progress.
Besides, it’s not like the outdoors is going anywhere. The mountains, forests, creeks and pretty flowers will still be there (at higher elevations) when it’s safe for us to resume doing and going where we please — hopefully by this summer.
Occasionally, we all need to hit the reset button on our perspectives.
It happened to me during a recent stroll past Buchanan High, when my eyes were drawn to a cluster of trees with yellow ribbons tied around their trunks drew my eyes
Walking over, they turned out to be a memorial for Buchanan graduates who joined the Armed Forces and later lost their lives in Iraq and Afghanistan.
Reading the names inscribed on the plaque, the “sacrifice” of staying home this spring stopped feeling like much of one at all.
This story was originally published April 10, 2020 at 4:45 PM.
