Landowners and property rights. Farmers and water rights. Sierra Club and the environment. Disparate interests, divergent viewpoints, dissimilar philosophies. But in this forgotten corner of California, amongst walnut groves and empty roads, in a place where dirt still rules over concrete, diversity became power.

In the predawn hours on Monday Oct 9, members of POWER gathered in preparation to link arms, hearts and minds. The forgotten corner was Lovers Lane and Ave 272, near a section of canal known as Potterís Slough. Potterís Slough was a natural waterway before an 1882 agreement with Joseph Potter granted an easement to the irrigation district. The slough still slithers like a snake on this section of the canal. TID wants to cement line 9.7 miles of this canal. In the process, 213 noble oaks standing along the banks would be bulldozed. Great Valley valley oaks that can live 600 years, bold silhouettes with outreached arms as dramatic as Shakespeare theater.

The event was to blockade TIDís attempts to bulldoze the oaks. It would be done lawfully with the property owners present to exercise their rights. Richard Garcia was the man who planted the idea. Garcia is a board member of POWER, the group of farmers and landowners opposing the project. Negotiations had broken down, a court decision halted taking of private property by TID, litigation was still pending that would argue that the granted easement is for conveying water over an earthen ditch, not to line it with cement. TID wanted to start the project, regardless. Their start date was to be Monday Oct 9.

"All we want is due process. I didnít want to see irreparable harm before weíve had our due process," says Garcia. This is the way itís supposed to work in America. It was the Saturday before TID was to begin. Deciding to be proactive, Richard hustled over to Don Petersen, who was hustling his walnut dryer. Thin, wiry and energetic at 65, you cannot build a piano with a low-enough key to describe Petersen. Youíre lucky to get two words out of him. Richard got one. When asked what he thought about doing a blockade, Petersen answered "okay" as he continued to tune his dryer. Thus the idea germinated. A native of Lemoore, Garcia is neither a farmer nor landowner on the canal. He is an officer with the local chapter of the Sierra Club.

The Petersens are walnut farmers on the corner. Don and Peggyís roots are pure Visalia. Her mother was born a Chinowth, whose mother was Fulgham, whose mother was Caldwell. Her motherís family grew up in the house that is now the restaurant Something Fresh. Donís father started the clothing business John Richards Menswear. They used to own the auto shop Ray Hill Brake & Wheel. They bought the ranch on the corner in 1952 and have been farming it since. A respectable lineage. "We were raised in a Christian home and weíre grandparents. Who wouldíve thought we would be out there with picket signs," says Peggy. As farmers, water is one of their biggest concerns. Peggy says their well has dropped 22 feet in the past 2 years. Even as a grandmother, Peggy knows hard work as she spryly climbs a 15 ft ladder to the top of the dryer and walks along loose planks to inspect bins of walnuts. They farm in coexistence with the wildlife. "We found foxes under the dryer," she says. "There was a family living under the oak on the canal, there was quail, we loved to watch the coyote trot across."

Monday morning was uneventful. Keeping watch on Road 132 was Bob Ludekens. Born in L.A., studied business at UCLA, was a professional Boy Scouter, now owns L.E. Cooke, a nursery in Visalia. Married 50 years to Carole, Man of the Year from the farm bureau, Distinguished Eagle Award from the Boy Scouts, Pacific Coast Nursery AwardÖhis office wall was once covered with plaques. Carole has removed most of them, her subtle hint for him to retire. At 70, why would he want to do that? This man sleeps only 5 hours a night. For 58 years he has continued scouting, even hosting dinners for them. He chairs meetings, gives presentations from Cal Poly to UC Davis several nights a week.

Ludekens is a businessman who likes facts and seeks the truth. When this issue first surfaced, he did just that. He attended meetings at TID, spoke to water engineers, to KDWCD. He listened to both sides of the issue, then formed his opinion. "Before there were wells, farmers dug ditches to farm and used the natural percolation," he says. "They gave easements to the Irrigation Company to maintain the ditches, but the ditches belong to the landowner. The oaks belong to the land." He has 23 wells on 1100 acres and is concerned the project will result in higher costs to operate. But he is more concerned about what it would do to the entire area. "Exeter will be affected first since they are uphill - as Visaliaís water table drops, theirs will flow down." As he puts it, "Everyone will pay for it. We will all become prisoners of water."

The first equipment arrived on Road 132 in the early afternoon. Everyone was still at Potterís Slough. A cell phone call brought the group over and the 1^st blockade occurred. Seeing that they were getting nowhere, the drivers left. Michael Millsaps and his buddy, Moose, followed them to where they parked their diesel on Caldwell. "We figured the guy was going to want to take a break, so we decided to get him a nice, cold soda pop," says Millsaps. Moose is 6í5" 321 lbs, Millsaps a midget at 6í3" 285 lbs. Imagine the drivers seeing these two hulks approaching. The drivers relaxed when the hulks tossed them each a Pepsi. "We hung around and shot the breeze for an hour," says Millsaps.

The drivers had taken two other missteps. They underestimated the relentlessness of two tenacious women, Sandy Blain and Peggy Petersen. And they parked on Blainís property. Sandyís husband is Brian, president of POWER. The two women had been looking for the diesel. Now Sandy, a petite 5í2", loomed larger than the two hulks as she marched up to the drivers, informed them they were on her property and must leave.

The Blains are 5 generations of Visalians. Brianís father was in real estate. A former schoolteacher, Brian began farming in 1974 and started a nut processing plant in 1983. Blain Farms is the largest pecan grower and processor in the state. "Our biggest concern is the impact it (lining) would have on groundwater supply in the area," says Brian. He believes the adverse effects are much greater than what the TID models show. Reflecting on the blockade, he states, "Weíre a conservative Mormon family, not accustomed to protesting, standing in front of bulldozers."

After leaving the Blain property, the diesel headed for Potterís Slough. Millsaps zipped out in front to slow them down, so as to give the protesters time to regroup. Upon arrival, there was no one there to blockade them. The diesel started to pull onto the ditch. In a flash, Millsaps thundered out and laid down in front of it. "Those guys, they werenít gonna hurt me. Weíd just been sharing Pepsiís, and I make a pretty good 300 lb speedbump," he jokes. Not a stranger to risk, Millsaps grew up in Exeter, attended COS, then became Captain of the Merchant Marines. He was a roustabout on oil rigs, rode Harleys, described as a crazy lunatic, and now works as a bouncer in Visaliaís clubs. But this crazy lunatic likes to cook and bake. He proudly shows visitors his custom-made spice drawer next to the stove and his drop-down baking board built into the cabinet. He is a crazy lunatic who cares about what happens. He worries that Exeter will dry up into a sandbox. "Exeter is such a pretty town, there is not a more attractive place," he muses. "During the 7-yr drought, our wells went dry. We sit on a granite shelf. The wells canít go any deeper." A crazy lunatic who praises the sheriffs, "They did one helluva job."

Within seconds after Millsaps laid down, people arrived. This corner was Bryan Bennetts walnut farm. Bennetts quickly drove his truck in front of the diesel. A 3^rd generation farmer, Bryan claims, "Don Petersen (the low-key man) wouldnít leave me alone, convinced me it was worth the fight. I didnít want them taking my land and water, itís our heritage." Here was the 2^nd blockade. The diesel backed down and left. Bennetts praises the construction company, "they were gentlemen." This time, all the protestors followed the diesel back to Road 132, site of the 1^st blockade. This site was significant because it is the terminal end of the lining before entering TID territory. It is the teVelde property.

Becky and Bernard teVelde both grew up in Riverside and graduated from UC Davis, he in ag business and she in economics. Bernardís family began dairy farming in Corona. Pushed out by suburban development, the teVeldes moved to Hanford. They now have two dairys and farm row crops in Hanford, right in the middle of TID country. They also farm fruit trees on Road 132. Becky teVelde is smart, savvy, and speaks knowledgeably on environmental issues. She says they have to deal with it all the time at the dairy. "My husband has never been for it (lining)," says Becky. "Heís concerned about the water, itís going to have too much effect on Visaliaís water table."

For Becky, it has more to do with aesthetics. They moved to Visalia 6 months ago. "We built our home nestled among the oaks," said Becky. She loves to go running and walking along the canal and enjoys the oaks. She is concerned about the big picture. "Weíre going to lose 200 trees, and thatís sad of itself. But if the water is cut off, whatís going to happen to the other trees," she asks. "In 5 to 10 years, how many more trees will die? The oaks are Visaliaís charm." She thinks about the future for her 6 kids, ranging in age from 2 to 11 with a 7^th due in March. "It takes 150 years for an oak tree to look like that. My kids wonít get a chance to see that." Becky made the sign on the oak that everyone is talking about, "I was here first, please donít cut me down".

It was now late afternoon, the bulldozer had returned. Becky was worried "I just donít want them to do something they canít reverse." She felt like the protesters had been out there all day and said her husband felt like he could stop it by sending the bulldozer away. Bernard went out there and did just that. It was the 3^rd and final blockade.