The Lake That Vanished 130 Years Ago Has Reappeared!

The vast arid landscape of California’s San Joaquin Valley, long considered a cornerstone of the nation’s food supply, once cradled the expansive Tulare Lake, spanning over 100 miles in length and 30 miles in width. Vivian Underhill, a former postdoctoral research fellow at Northeastern University, sheds light on the unexpected resurgence of this once-grand body of water.

Historically, Tulare Lake, known as ‘Pa’ashi’ to the indigenous Tachi Yokut tribe, held immense significance. Fed by snowmelt from the Sierra Nevada mountains rather than rainfall, the lake lacked a natural outlet within the valley, resulting in the accumulation of water to form its vast expanse. In the 1800s, the San Joaquin Valley boasted Fresno as a bustling lakeside town, where steamships could traverse the waters for nearly 300 miles, a stark contrast to the present-day arid landscape.

The disappearance of Tulare Lake commenced in the late 1850s and early 1860s as part of California’s ‘reclamation’ efforts, aimed at converting public land, often historically belonging to indigenous communities, into privately owned agricultural plots. This process involved draining inundated land or irrigating desert areas to create fertile farmland, effectively erasing the ‘ancestral lakes’ and waterways that once defined the region.

However, reports indicate that Tulare Lake has made a surprising comeback, resurfacing due to an influx of snow and rain, with precipitation from the Sierra Mountains flowing into the depression where the lake once thrived. This unexpected resurgence carries complex implications for indigenous communities, wildlife, and agricultural workers in the San Joaquin Valley.

The return of Tulare Lake has revitalized the ecosystem, attracting a diverse array of bird species, including pelicans, hawks, and waterbirds, as well as vulnerable or imperiled species like burrowing owls. Once a crucial part of the Pacific Flyway for migratory birds, Tulare Lake now offers renewed habitat, addressing concerns related to bird conservation and biodiversity.

However, the impact on human occupancy in the Central Valley varies among different groups. For the Tachi Yokuts, the lake’s return symbolizes a profound and spiritual experience, reconnecting them with their ancestral lands. Yet, for farmworkers, the resurgence poses personal and place-based challenges due to potential flooding, while growers have implemented flood prevention measures to safeguard their farmland.

Despite efforts to drain the lake once more, Underhill advocates for recognizing the economic potential in allowing Tulare Lake to remain. She emphasizes the importance of adopting a broader perspective, considering the region’s historical prevalence of lakes and wetlands. Underhill contends that the recent event signifies more than a mere flood; it marks the return of a lake, signaling a shift in the landscape’s natural state.

As climate change exacerbates the frequency of such events, understanding and adapting to the coexistence of Tulare Lake present opportunities for economic growth and environmental sustainability in California.

In conclusion, the resurgence of Tulare Lake serves as a poignant reminder of the intricate relationship between humans and nature, urging us to reconsider our approach to land management and conservation in the face of environmental challenges.