Click here for part I.

On our second day in Big Sur, Calif. we traveled to the Ventana Wildlife Society’s base camp to meet the staff and see the damage from the summer wildfires. As we changed gears into 4×4, we began to see veins of vegetation surrounded by scorched earth or ash everywhere. How did the fire decide to burn this section but not the next? It moved like a river, meandering through the hillsides. Even in August, there was still ash several inches deep.

We stopped periodically along the mountainsides looking for what was turning out to be a very elusive bird—the California condor. We saw small animals and a variety of small birds throughout, an indicator that some life survived the fire, or perhaps that life was slowly returning to normal. We encountered animal tracks. It appeared that a wild pig had recently been through the area, with what looked like a mountain lion following it. I guess we were not the only ones on the chase.

Upon arriving at the Ventana Wildlife Society’s condor base camp, we were awestruck. The fire’s rage and its discrimination in what did and did not remain standing was unmistakable. The staff cabin was left standing, although some windows cracked with the intensity of the heat. The ground was burned literally a few feet from the cabin, but a few storage units were reduced to piles of melted metal, forming eclectic artwork. A mosquito tent used to enjoy lunch outdoors stood vigilant. I assumed that it was new and had been placed there after the fire, but I was wrong.

In fact, Ventana Wildlife Society staff members and guests had been having lunch in that very spot the day the fire began. Kelly Sorenson, executive director for the society, said the day began with beautiful clear skies. Without warning, lightning began to strike the ground, far too close for comfort. The group packed up and decided to head out of the mountains for safety, and it turned out to be a lifesaving move. Hear it in Kelly’s own words by clicking here.

After listening to the story of how the condors in the nearby holding pens were rescued, we began a descent out of the mountains, hoping to find the now irritatingly elusive condors. Time and time again we spotted turkey vultures, and I was giving up hope. On one patch of scenic mountainside, I could see the ocean. I was admiring the view when I saw two large black birds. I figured they were turkey vultures, but I pointed them out to the others just in case. I was right. But since we had stopped, we got off the cars to look around. And there below us were four California condors flying near the coastline. Yes!

I have seen California condors flying in Baja California, Mexico, but this was beyond words. You could see the birds using thermals to get higher and higher. “They’re coming to see us,” said Kelly. “They’re going to come check us out.” Sure enough, they did. They flew over our heads time and time again, then continued higher up the mountains before they disappeared. It was magnificent. It was truly an amazing scene—North America’s largest flying bird with the most spectacular backdrops of pines, redwoods, and the glistening Pacific coast. It was 3 p.m. on day two before we finally saw the birds, but even if we didn’t see another condor, it was enough. The image will be forever with me.

Luckily, however, it wasn’t our only chance. When we arrived on Highway 1, we spotted more condors perched in a pine tree on a cliff over the ocean. It was 5 p.m. at this point, and they were getting ready to settle in for the day. But before they did, the birds began to fly from one tree to another, giving us the opportunity to capture a few more images of these large birds in flight.

As we stood there with our cameras and binoculars in hand, other cars pulled off the road and people asked us, did you find a condor? It was amazing that people from Italy, South America, and Holland stopped and knew exactly what we were doing. They knew of the plight of the California condor and they wanted to see this endangered species for themselves. With only 150 condors in the wild, seeing this bird flying is a unique experience not shared by the rest of the world. I feel very lucky to be part of this great conservation story and even luckier to have seen this bird fly in my own backyard.

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