Beetle infestation and drought are changing landscapes across the west. Photo © George Wuerthner
On the strange and blustery afternoon of October 25, 1997, hurricane-force winds topping 100 mph roared through the Routt National Forest near Steamboat Springs, Colorado. The early winter storm toppled more than 20,000 acres of old-growth timber along the western edge of the Mount Zirkel Wilderness Area, leaving hundred-year-old trees piled up to thirty feet deep and strewn over the forest floor like pick-up sticks. It was the largest known blowdown in Rocky Mountain history.
For timber-devouring beetles, the Routt Divide Blowdown was a perfect storm. Stacks of downed trees created an idyllic nursery for beetle larvae, and an ensuing multi-year drought—the worst in nearly a century—helped them spread. Today a forest of beetle-killed trees surrounds the blowdown, a result of the spruce beetle infestation that took hold immediately after the storm, followed by an epidemic of mountain pine beetles that moved in to devour lodgepole pines soon after.
The beetle infestation on the Routt National Forest was a precursor to the mountain pine beetle explosion that has plagued the West during the past decade. Land managers from Alaska to California, and all along the spine of the Rockies, are grappling with the effects of vast tracts of dead and dying trees on their forests. In northern Colorado and Wyoming, mountain pine beetles have doomed an estimated 90 percent of the lodgepole pine forests on more than 2 million acres of public and private land. The impacts of beetle-killed forests are widespread, ranging from increased fire danger and watershed degradation to new safety hazards on trails and in campgrounds, scenic overlooks and ski areas. And swaths of beetle-killed trees certainly alter the magnificent scenery that has been such a draw for nature-lovers worldwide.
In the decade after the blowdown, managers on the Routt National Forest and at the Steamboat Ski Area, which is adjacent to the southern tendrils of the Routt Divide Blowdown, tried several different approaches to save the surrounding trees from dying.
“We went full-on attack for those spruce bark beetles,” says Doug Allen, the vice president of mountain operations at the Steamboat Ski Area. His staff spent the first years after the blowdown doing battle against the spruce beetles—falling and debarking trees, spraying pesticides and setting chemical-doused traps designed to attract swarms of beetles away from healthy trees. At the same time, the U.S. Forest Service treated trees within a three-mile perimeter of the ski area.
When mountain pine beetles invaded a couple of years after the spruce beetles, managers took a similar approach. “For several years, it really warded off the red,” says Allen, referring to the rusty hue that beetle-killed trees take on. But two summers ago, the mountain pine beetle population exploded beyond control. “We realized we had lost the battle. Last summer we did no treatments.”
“Day by day you can see it change,” Allen says, referring to the growing expanse of dead and brittle lodgepole pines. And the visuals are only the tip of the iceberg when it comes to the impacts of beetle-killed forests. Dead lodgepoles typically remain standing for five to ten years, creating safety hazards such as falling trees and increased fire danger. Downed trees mean the ski area loses wind protection for its chair lifts and shade to protect its snowpack.
Ron Wilson was a district ranger on the Dixie National Forest in Utah in 1992 when a beetle infestation killed most of the trees at the Brian Head Resort ski area. He says that even though the resort gained new terrain, intense wind whipping across the mountain has necessitated shutting down the lifts more often, at a cost of $200,000 to $400,000 per year. In the years since the infestation, Wilson says, Brian Head has had to make about 25 percent more snow, groom its slopes more often and adjust the weighting on its towers and chairs to counteract the wind.
Ski areas throughout the northern Rockies have studied Brian Head’s struggles. Managers of the Steamboat Ski Area now spray trees that provide wind protection near its lifts. They have plans for the patches of dying lodgepole pines that will eventually become treeless, hoping to make the areas into new terrain for beginning skiers. Steamboat is luckier than Brian Head, says Allen, because the ski area encompasses a mixed forest that includes healthy fir, aspen and Engelmann spruce. Still, dead pines will have to come out, and that will make many runs and liftline corridors wider.
With forests of standing dead trees prepared to fall within the next decade, trail and campground maintenance is looming large in the eyes of forest managers. Kent Foster, a recreation program manager on the Routt National Forest, says his job “used to be maintaining facilities, but now it’s maintaining forests.” Cutting hazard trees away from campgrounds, trailheads, trails and roads now consumes a big part of Foster’s work schedule. “Recreation planning is put on hold until we deal with this,” he says.
Foster will close a quarter of his district’s campgrounds this year to remove standing dead trees. “We’re accelerating our hazard tree removal program. We can’t open campgrounds if we have dead trees,” he says. The result will be more-exposed and less-inviting campgrounds, at least for a while. But Foster is thinking one step ahead in case another beetle epidemic sweeps through his forest—the campgrounds will be re-planted with mixed species of different ages, hopefully avoiding the kind of old-growth lodgepole pine wipeout that has occurred because of mountain pine beetles.
Foster says his focus is on safety, particularly around high-use trails and trailheads, while keeping a hands-off approach in the wilderness. Some forest trails are being diverted away from standing dead trees, but the all-around increase in maintenance costs is daunting. Knowing that so many dead and falling trees are in their future, Routt National Forest personnel are undertaking an analysis of all open roads and developed hiking, biking and motor trails in hopes of salvaging hazardous timber instead of leaving it roadside. Previously, the same analysis was completed on small parts of the forest closest to the blowdown, and those salvage cuts are scheduled for this summer.
While not objecting to cutting trees for safety, the Biodiversity Conservation Alliance has voiced concerns about proposed road- and trail-side cuts being too wide and indiscriminate. They proposed a narrower corridor and selective cutting that would take out only beetle-killed-trees—suggestions the Forest Service has been responsive to. “As proposed it could have been a clear swipe along the trails,” says Duane Short, the alliance’s wild species program director. “We support efforts to make people safe. But in the backcountry risk is part of the outdoor experience.”
Doing timber sales on the campgrounds, Foster says, is the most cost-effective way to clear them. By having a pre-emptive, comprehensive assessment completed, the Routt National Forest will be past the time-consuming analysis and public comment stage and ready to pursue salvage operations that could help finance the expense of hazard tree removal—and ideally, also provide money for tasks like replanting campground trees and enhancing recreational facilities.
Volunteers are putting serious muscle behind the effort to keep trails open for year-round recreation. Members of local recreational clubs are helping with snag removal and other safety measures. Chuck Vale, emergency management director for the county that’s home to the Routt Divide Blowdown, says an all-volunteer snowmobile group he’s part of works with the Forest Service to keep more than 100 miles of trails groomed and free from fallen trees each winter. “We’re good recreational fanatics, keeping it open for everyone,” Vale says.
The beetle kill has opened up the forest canopy, and snow that used to be caught by evergreen needles now falls to the ground, becoming denser and more sun-baked. Wind sweeps lower to the ground, increasing the width and depth of tree wells. These conditions create trickier, and sometimes more dangerous, situations for snowmobilers, skiers and snowshoers to contend with.
Playing in the beetle-killed forests demands a higher level of attention. Signs warning of the changing conditions in the forest are abundant on the Routt. They advise forest users about snags and increased fire danger, and caution them to be aware of the possibilities of downed trees on the trail or in campsites. They urge forest users to carry an axe in their vehicles in case they need to cut their way out when driving in remote forest areas. The permanence of the signs is just one indication that beetle-killed forests have changed the landscape for years to come.
“You’ve got to be more vigilant in the forest,” Vale says. “One has to keep one’s eyes on things now, whether you’re fishing, hunting, snowmobiling or hiking.”