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Stanford grad student walking 320 miles in John Muir's footsteps

COLUMN ONE

Alex McInturff, a 23-year-old earth sciences student, finds that much has changed as he retraces the conservationist's trek from San Francisco to Yosemite Valley in 1868.

May 09, 2009|Maria L. La Ganga

"Some of the things look almost placed," he said, musing over the artistry of found objects. "A plastic thing of laundry detergent next to a plastic thing of whey protein, perfectly parallel."

McInturff has found that California's litterbugs have strong preferences about their cigarettes; empty Marlboro Lights boxes surpassed any other brand. If the detritus of this 12-mile day was any indication, however, their tastes in beverages are diverse: Starbucks and Peet's, Bud and Modelo, Red Bull, V8, Dairy Queen and SunnyD.


For The Record
Los Angeles Times Wednesday, May 13, 2009 Home Edition Main News Part A Page 4 National Desk 1 inches; 37 words Type of Material: Correction
John Muir's trek: A map accompanying an article in Saturday's Section A about a Stanford University graduate student who is retracing the conservationist's 1868 trek from San Francisco to Yosemite Valley misspelled Millerton Lake as Mullerton Lake.


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The most interesting discard McInturff had passed so far, he said, was a testament to the loneliness of the long-distance driver -- a box with a picture of a naked couple that once held something called the "Jackmatic Supreme."

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McInturff passed through San Luis National Wildlife Refuge on an SPF-30 afternoon, fording streams, skirting curious cows, counting snowy egrets and wary coyotes, their ears pricked up at full attention.

He spent the day in the company of biologists -- first Dennis Woolington of the U.S. Fish and Wildlife Service, then Chris Hildebrandt of Ducks Unlimited, a hunting and conservation group.

For McInturff, a city boy of liberal leanings, it was an eye-opening outing. He had set up the two separate meetings expecting a clash of views on how best to manage the region's wetlands, the rough jewel of western Merced County.

Instead, he found a partnership. At 9 a.m., he and Woolington pored over a map on the dusty hood of the biologist's pickup, talking about the Grasslands Ecological Area, which includes a complex of privately owned duck clubs.

McInturff: "Do they still hunt?"

Woolington: "Yep. The reason these have stayed wetlands is because people want to duck hunt. . . . They also recognize they're maintaining habitat for more than duck hunting."

The endangered giant garter snake makes its home here, along with the largest wintering population of lesser sandhill cranes in the Pacific Flyway. Between 800,000 and 1.3 million waterfowl winter here, Woolington told him.

A few hours later, McInturff was hiking with Ducks Unlimited's Hildebrandt, who talked about the impact of drought, the restoration of habitat and the unnatural nature of California's pancake-flat wetlands.

"Every wetland is a managed wetland. The only way you get water is opening up a screw gate," he said.

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