Luna Leopold
n the night of February 23, 2006, the great hydrologist Luna Leopold died peacefully at home in Berkeley, California, at age 90. Thus ended a life so rich and so extraordinary that few can hope to emulate it. Among his accomplishments is being father of Grand Canyon hydrology.
Luna’s wife Barbara had died almost exactly two years earlier after considerable illness, shattering Luna’s world in the way that only couples who have been together for a long time can understand.
For my wife Baerbel and me, these events have brought forth the dismay of losing not only a very great scientist, but also the much stronger one of losing two good friends. Maybe ten years ago we had the honor and pleasure of becoming acquainted with these people, visiting them in summer at their cabin on the shores of the New Fork River near Pinedale, Wyoming, a place Luna was fiercely in love with, and where he observed attentively all living things, including the river. For several years he was afflicted with emphysema and was therefore tethered to an oxygen cylinder, which annoyed him greatly. Nevertheless, he was always a perfect gentleman of the kind we no longer see today, and his mind was as inquisitive and far-ranging as ever, even turning in the latter years to the notion that probable artifacts embedded in old surfaces near Pinedale might be evidence for human presence far earlier than has generally been accepted for the American continent.
Luna was the son of the legendary Aldo Leopold, author of A Sand Country Almanac and one of the fathers of modern environmental sentiments. This beginning gave Luna an undying reverence for the things of Nature, always a major component of his lifelong interests, leading him to being on the Board of Directors of the Sierra Club, among other things. But there is another interesting side to his family tree because (I hope I have this right) he could trace his lineage back to the Spanish Counts de Luna (featured in Verdi’s Il Trovatore) and thus to the 14th-century Martin I, king of Aragon and Sicily.
Luna started his advanced education with a bachelor’s degree in civil engineering from the University of Wisconsin, following with a master’s degree in physics and meteorology from the University of California at Los Angeles, and concluding with a Ph.D in geology from Harvard. A true polymath, in other words. And his knowledge by no means ended there, because he was equally versed in subjects like history—even ancient history—so could and did quote such things as The Persian Wars of Herodotus with great facility. His writing style was unbelievably comprehensible and lucid, reminding me at times of Winston Churchill’s prose. Nevertheless, he was always kind and patient with those of us with vastly inferior writing ability. If you want to sample his writing, I recommend A Reverence for Rivers. To find this, go to http://eps.berkeley.edu/people/lunaleopold/ and look for reference 127.
His education completed, Leopold embarked on a 23-year career with the Water Resources Division of the U.S. Geological Survey, where he eventually became Chief Hydrologist. His modus operandi in this function is quite legendary: he would visit each of his scientists at least once a year, preferably in the field, when they would report to him on what they had been doing during the previous year. Upon finding sufficient progress and enthusiasm, Luna would then encourage them and support them financially, otherwise leaving them to carry on the work as they saw fit without interference; after all, they were big boys and girls and knew best how to achieve their scientific goals. Makes you turn green with envy, doesn’t it?
During his Survey years, Luna carried out detailed, imaginative, and priceless studies in areas ranging from the East Coast to the entire Rocky Mountain West. His article “The rapids and the pools–Grand Canyon” in the remarkable U.S. Geological Survey Professional Paper 669, “The Colorado River Region and John Wesley Powell” is a good example. But he also found time to write several books. I still remember poring over Fluvial Processes in Geomorphology by Leopold, Wolman and Miller when I was a young graduate student in the early ’60s, first learning thereby to recognize rivers for what they are—living things. This book is on the shelf a foot from my nose as I write now.
After retiring from the usgs, the next position was a professorship in the Geology department at U.C. Berkeley, where he eventually became professor emeritus.
Luna’s selected publications number about 182, of which quite a few are books. The last one is Geomorphic Effects of Urbanization in Forty-one Years of Observation, of which he sent me a reprint shortly before dying. Classic Leopold: unerring selection of a worthwhile study, keen observation over a long time, thoughtful quantification, highly useful conclusions.
Luna’s achievements led to a host of recognitions and awards, including membership in the National Academy of Science, and the National Medal of Science, the highest recognition this country can give a scientist.
I could go on and on but my eyes are misting, so I should stop. Farewell Luna, farewell Barbara: the rivers, The River, remember you, and always will.

Ivo Lucchitta

Dr. Bill Wenner
nless you were around the river scene in the 1970s, and particularly associated with Wilderness World river trips, you may not have met Dr. Bill Wenner nor had the chance to run a trip with him.
I trust there are a few old timers around: Tom, Kyle, Jimmy, Jomo, Larry, Steve, and Vladimir who have a fond memory of a trip with Dr. Bill. Whale was one of his favorite shipmates; similar rowing styles and sense of humor.
After serving as a navy doctor in the Korean War, and completing his surgical residency at the University of Michigan, Dr. Bill moved his family to Monterey, California in 1957. While building his surgical practice, he threw himself wholeheartedly, and with little or no experience, into the outdoor life. Camping, hiking, backpacking, ocean kayaking in an old Klepper Folbot, and running flooding coastal rivers and Sierra streams in surplus inflatables of dubious virtue were all activities he shared with his children. Everybody survived, and learned a lot together.
In 1971, when his sons Henry and Bill enlisted as among the first boatmen for fledgling river outfitter Wilderness World, Dr. Bill followed his sons into river life with his usual enthusiasm. He became good friends with Vladimir Kovalik and Ronn Hayes, founders of the company, and made himself useful as company doctor, helping design the first aid kits for all the rivers, and over time quietly providing free medical care for any boatmen who needed it. He had a knack for filling under-booked river trips with friends and family, and was a valuable promoter of the joys of river-running with the doctors and nurses he worked with at the hospital.
Since 1966, Dr. Bill had been involved with a Buddhist monastery near his home, providing free medical care and lodgings to Zen students in need. Boatmen were added to the mix; quite a few guides found (sometimes extended) winter lodging at the Wenner Rancheria on the Carmel River; parking campers or Volkswagen vans in the yard or finding sleeping bag space. And if you had a medical problem, the Doctor was in.
Throughout the ’70s, Dr. Bill was a feature on many Wilderness World trips, Grand Canyon and others, serving as trip doctor, baggage boatman, and just-one-of-the-crew. Of the many qualities he brought to a trip, he loved rivers. Any river. He loved the canyon, and being a boatman. However, at the hint of a medical emergency, he shifted to the skilled surgeon, E.R. doctor and ace wilderness medic he was. He always brought his own medical kit on trips; the really good one. Then, emergency over, he was back in the moment, and the rapture of being on the river and ready to dive in to wash the dinner dishes. He got a lot out of every trip; he also brought a lot to it.
In 1977 while serving as expedition doctor, baggage boatman and crew on Wilderness World’s first Usumascinta River trip (Guatemala) he met his soon to be third wife, Cynthia “Cynee” Gillette, a passenger on the trip. This river romance led to 28 years of shared adventure and love.
In the late ’70s he and Cynee ran some Wilderness World trips, but he was more often found on private family river trips with his sons and some Wilderness World alumni, known as the Wild River Conspiracy.
In 1981, he and Cynee moved to the Pacific, first to Guam and later to the big island of Hawaii where they build a house in the lush rainforest near Volcano National Park. He continued working as a surgeon, E.R. doctor and clinic physician as well as substance-abuse counselor, while enjoying scuba diving, wind surfing, ocean kayaking and running in his spare time. When not working, he and Cynee took many trips to various parts of the world, including some off-the-beaten-track river trips. He continued working several days a week at a clinic in Kona until his mid ’70s.
On Thanksgiving Day, 2005, Dr. Bill was at his home in Volcano when he passed away, in the company of his daughter Julie who had flown in from Montana. Despite the considerable pain he’d been in for some time, he departed peacefully, slipping briefly into the measured breathing of Zazen (Zen meditation) and then, onward, leaving behind the subtle Dr. Bill smile familiar to those who knew him. He was 79.
Dr. Bill helped a lot of people in his life, and believed in, and practiced, creative solutions to medical and personal issues; he naturally supported the mission of the Whale Foundation. For anyone who remembers him, feel free to make a contribution to the Whale Foundation in his memory.
And, I believe the old river doctor would wish to leave a message to all you getting-a-little-grey-around-the-muzzle river guides and guide alumni…get that prostate exam, fellahs. It’s important.
For Dr. Bill; thank you for your many gifts: your healing hands, gentle humor, good company and great love. I’ll catch up to you around the next bend in the river, and we’ll resume the journey. ’Til then, cool running, no more all-nighters in the emergency room, no more pain, just the river flowing freely before you.
See you down the creek aways.

Henry Wenner