Wildfires, women and wilderness: What Los Padres National Forest was like in 1988
During this unprecedented fire season, all national forests in California have been closed.
A few were scheduled to have limited reopenings Saturday, but our Los Padres National Forest remains closed for now.
Historically, some of our region’s biggest wildfires have burned through Los Padres National Forest.
Often it has been chaparral, not un-logged trees, that fueled the fires. The biggest blazes have included the Marble Cone, Thomas, Painted Cave, Las Pilitas, Highway 41, Highway 58 and Dolan fires.
The geologic torsion that causes California earthquakes also builds the steep mountains and remote back country that challenge firefighters.
Los Padres is the third largest national forest in California. Humboldt-Toiyabe National Forest bends the rules by sprawling over both California and Nevada to comprise the largest national forest outside of Alaska.
Inyo National Forest squeaks ahead of Los Padres by 3 square miles, but the 2,770-square-mile Los Padres National Forest is still vast.
The forest’s edges are found in Los Angeles and Kern counties. From there, the forest forms a ribbon that follows the spine of Ventura, Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo and Monterey counties. It is hard to find a location in those four counties that isn’t in sight of the forest.
The almost 220-mile ribbon breaks in northern San Luis Obispo County and begins again along the Big Sur coast of Monterey County.
Ten areas are designated as wilderness. The forest has been home to the reintroduction of the almost extinct California condor.
The elevation of Los Padres National Forest varies from sea level on the Big Sur coast to 8,847-foot-tall Mount Pinos in Ventura County.
Our water supply often starts in the forest. The Salinas, Cuyama and Nacimiento rivers all originate in Los Padres.
The forest covers scrubby arid inland areas as well as coastal redwoods and rain-soaked peaks that can see up to 120 inches of rain a year.
The debate over national forests is as old as their creation.
The “Land of Many Uses” motto on forest signs is an attempt to satisfy competing interests.
For example, the same forest that has off-highway vehicle areas also contains wilderness areas where no vehicles are allowed.
Ronald W. Powell wrote four day series of stories on Los Padres National Forest. While he told the story of policy and procedure he focused on the individuals most engaged in forest activities.
The title of the series, published in April 1988, was “Las Padres: Used or Abused.”
Some of the issues covered by Powell might sound familiar three decades later. Gov. Gavin Newsom just signed a bill to help former inmate firefighters land jobs as first responders after they have served their time behind bars.
Here are excerpts from “Las Padres: Used or Abused,” edited for length. (Editor’s note: The El Paso de Robles facility has since closed.)
Women cut sexism in forest
Nude pinups of buxom women decorated the Lassen National Forest fire station when Ruth Wenstrom reported for work in 1975.
“The public used to stop there for information and the centerfolds were in public view.” Wenstrom recalled recently. “I complained repeatedly, and they told me that if I didn’t like it, I could bring my own (male) centerfold.
So she did.
Not long afterward, the District Ranger inspected the station while Wenstrom was out. When she returned, all the pinups were gone.
“No one ever said anything to me about it.”
Wenstrom’s experience is a snapshot of the blatant sexism that women encountered during the 1970s when they began entering the traditionally male U.S. Forest Service in significant numbers.
And then there was the logger who she had to monitor for compliance to commercial timber cutting contracts with the federal government.
“There were times when I hated going to work,” said Wenstrom of her days wrangling with the logger. “I had to listen to and earful fro the time I got there ‘till the time I left.”
She said the pressurized days of worrying that one mistake would make all women “look bad” in the eyes of male co-workers are mostly over.
“There’s been some struggle being a woman,” observes Wenstrom, speaking from experience.
“Now I’m just one of the employees.”
Standing watch over the forest
Doug Aversano buckled the seat belt of his patrol vehicle and adjusted his black-lensed aviator sunglasses.
Preliminaries finished, he eased the truck into gear and pulled away from the Pozo Forest Service station.
“If your in the office, your’re doing something wrong,” he said as the truck bounced along unpaved Hi Mountain Road. “You ought to be out there.”
Aversano, 35, is a U.S. Forest Service officer, a man who is commonly seen by hikers, campers, trappers, hunters, cyclists and others who visit Los Padres National Forest in the Pozo area.
More times than not he is looking back.
Aversano is one of four employees who patrol the Santa Lucia District of Los Padres, which includes 188,908 acres of San Luis Obispo County.
During the summer fire season he is a firefighter who could be summoned to national forests throughout the country if needed to help extinguish wildfires.
When fire season is over, his job is a melange of responsibilities. It is part traffic safety officer, part fire prevention officer, part sign painter, part public information officer, part ambulance driver, and as Aversano puts it, part “Johnny Law.”
There is only one ranger in a Forest Service district and that person is the head administrator — largely an office job.
He admits to feeling most alive while working on the fire line. He revels in those “classic moments.” when a 20-person crew is working as one against a wall of flame.
Aversano speaks of those moments with pride, sounding like the Friday night football hero he was in his younger days.
“When you get a good crew … there’s no sniveling.”
“People should be good to the forest,” urged Aversano, sounding the message of the U.S. Forest Service mascot, Smokey the Bear.
“I’d appreciate it.”
Fire Crew gives youths second chance
One used to make $3,000 a day in Los Angeles selling deadly euphoria, crack cocaine.
Another took a wrong turn in L.A.’s fast lane.
A third grew up in a nice neighborhood, but went out looking for trouble — and found it.
They all ended up in the same place, El Paso de Robles School, a jail for boys that is part of the California Youth Authority.
But they have something else in common, a glimmer of hope in the often dark story of youth crime and punishment. They are firefighters, members of the well-respected Los Robles Camp.
Each of the 70 Los Robles firefighters is atoning for past crimes and giving something back to society.
But there’s more. They are also learning firsthand about teamwork and personal responsibility, valuable tools that may help them stay on the right side of the law after release.
If the firefighting unit needs a reference, ask Chet Cash. He is the fire manager for the Santa Lucia District of Los Padres National Forest. He has seen the Los Robles firefighters in action.
“They do an excellent job for us, especially as a fire crew,” said Cash, a firefighter for more than 20 years. “We use them like any other crew on a fire.”
The group is led by Senior Youth Counselor Del Bishop, the founder of Los Robles Camp.
“A lot of kids have never been out of the city,” said Bishop, a 24-year veteran of Youth Authority work. ”Some are changed by being here. It’s a whole new world for them.”
Pay ranges from 85 cents to $1 a day.
Despite the hard work, the unit is so popular on campus that it has a waiting list of 14.
Charles Grant, 18, is an acting assistant captain on the Los Robles unit, and said he landed at the CYA camp because his pursuit of life in the Los Angeles fast lane ended in crime.
“I wanted to party every week and I was working at McDonalds’,” said Grant. He supplemented his restaurant salary with illegal activities.
He is now acting assistant captain on the fire crew, and talks of continuing a firefighting career after serving his time at El Paso de Robles.
John Richardson, a fire captain at the California Department of Forestry, has worked with the unit for three years. He is not cynical when the incarcerated firefighters talk about going straight.
“These kids work all night,” said Richardson. “All they need is their one little chance. These kids still have dreams.”
