Jesse Juchtzer
How do you even begin to articulate the profound bond you have with an author when a literary tale such as Kendra Atleework’s Miracle Country parallels your very own high-desert childhood? A book that rekindles your avocation for the historical knowledge of the land and its inhabitants, while also invoking a humble appreciation of the career pathway that has led you along the same cartographic trails of beauty and desolation that this memoir so vividly illustrates?
Well…the only thing I can do is describe the serendipitous connection I share with Atleework’s impressive narrative of growing up in a region as unique as the granite plumes that have formed it. Sharing our exploration of remote locations, which we’ve discovered across this country, that bring life only to the voids where water is allowed to flow and pool. Both of us set off into a sphere of the unknown as hardened desert individuals. Always taught to, “File a Flight Plan and Keep Three-Points of Contact While Climbing,” as Atleework echoes both of our family’s safety mantras. Each of us were freedom-bound in our adolescence journey across revolutionary landscapes and ideals. Ultimately, feeling the gravitational pull to return to our family roots for work and play in the habitat and sanctuary we’ve always called…. Home!
When asked to participate in Nevada Reads with DRI Scientists through this partnership with Nevada Humanities, I was not anticipating being transported through time and space in such an eloquent fashion. Memories of my past adventures came flooding in when familiar place names, historical persons, or watershed boundaries were noted that I have been introduced to time and again throughout differing seasons and circumstances. Fishing for perch in Crawley Lake, soaking in hot springs in the valley below Convict Lake, racing the slalom courses on Mammoth during high school ski team, or rockhounding with friends during backpacking trips. All these events have spurred my desire to be immersed in mother nature. Clearly identifying the same stores, restaurants, dirt roads, and the alpenglow of jagged peaks or seaside silhouettes of palm trees gave me an intimate understanding of the author’s perspective. Just as Atleework confidently recalls her experiences, I too reflected on the landmarks that have left their brand on my clothes, tastebuds, and for which I have countlessly adjusted my aperture to an infinite focus to capture the moments that lie before me.
It was refreshing how the amalgamation of Atleework’s research highlights were layered within the philosophical, historical, geological, and climatological ruminations of her own life. The diurnal rhythm she used to navigate the reader through the dusty records of news articles hidden throughout libraries, and then back to visions conjured from her own acute hippocampus, made this read very entertaining. At one point in Atleework’s chronicle, I could imagine the reprieve of all those who have crossed the desert and found a cool mountain stream that trickles over glacial till, slowly seeping from its majestic snowpack origins and into the arid expanse below, creating an elixir of life-giving hydration for all those who need to quench their thirst. It’s Atleework’s literary talent that caused me to pause at her ability to articulate this type of playful language, which precisely encapsulated the essence of the moment, yet at the same time grounds the reader to her story at its foundation, and sometimes sobering core.
As a 41-year-old self-labeled mountain man, I was surprised how many times Atleework’s poetic phrases tugged at my emotions as she spoke of her family. Her Pop, just the same as I have called mine, and of her mother Jan how, “She loved the way the old stone cradled the towns into which she poured her life.” It was a beautiful read; one of which I believe I will delve back into more than once to follow up on the many acknowledged authors and historical references perfectly drizzled throughout.
Additional DRI research projects related to Atleework’s memoir
In addition to my DRI tenure, I have had the privilege of assisting with dust mitigation research on the Owens Valley lakebed to help curb the noxious emissions stirred up by the parched winds. This is where I often contemplated the fragileness of the protected plovers nesting on the man-made gravel roadbeds that lead into this fulgurite laden landscape. In addition to this mirage of heatwaves and halobacterium-stained alkali flats, I find myself partaking in collaborative field research missions by piloting Unmanned Aircraft Systems (UAS) into towering plumes of smoke to investigate carbon emissions, which hold hitchhiking microbes and fungi carried from their perches in the grass, scrubs, and trees. These microbes are collected on sensory payloads and entrained onto filter media to identify the species of organisms being transported these great distances as the winds fan wildfire flames. Lastly, as wildfires continue to devastate areas once lush and green, I have aided the rehabilitation of these once thriving forests by dropping tree seed balls from the same UAS technology to help replant this habitat in an expedited fashion in terrain not suitable for hand-planting methods.
Jesse Juchtzer was born and raised as a fifth-generation Nevadan originating from the Carson Valley, Nevada. His Angelo-Germanic family immigrated to Genoa, Nevada in the early 1800’s following the appearance of Halley’s Comet in the night sky as a sign of change and have never had the desire to leave these snow crested Sierras. Upon returning from a four-year tour as a Naval Aviation Mechanic with GI-bill and scholarships in hand, he finished my college degree in Environmental Science and Ecology at Sierra Nevada College in Incline Village, Nevada, which then led to an internship with United States Geological Survey’s (USGS) California Water Science Center.
As a hydrographer for the USGS, he had the pleasure of physically wading into fluid passageways to measure their flow rates, storage capacities, and water quality indicators; one of his favorites being the Hot Creek Geologic site near Mammoth Airport, which continually validates the valley’s volcanic caldera activity. In 2013, he joined the Desert Research Institute (DRI) of Reno, Nevada, and over the past eight years, has worked his way to the position of Principal Research Technician within the Division of Atmospheric Science. Currently he assists with the enhancement of our community’s water resources by using scientifically proven cloud seeding technologies during specific winter storm conditions to increase ice nucleus generation and boost snowpack reserves within targeted mountaintop watersheds to extend the spring runoff. This weather modification method has been adopted, improved, and continuously implemented by DRI for over the past 50+ years as a viable and cost-effective method to enhance localized water resources in the greater Sierra Nevada Mountains and Western states abroad. During field work, he regularly finds himself in the silence of wind drifted snow banks throughout the Sierra backcountry on snowmobile, snowshoes, and by foot each season to study and validate their success at wringing out an additional annual 10-15% Snow Water Equivalent augmented from super-cooled liquid filled clouds that have brought this sometimes un-precipitous moisture to us via the Pacific Ocean. Within this, he finds solace and contentment that he can help those who need water to survive - not just for humans’ municipal use, agricultural or recreational needs, but for all the flora and fauna who call this region home.