The Epic, pt. I

September 2012

                                   1 month. 3,500 miles, 20 states, 15 National Parks & Monuments, 100 old friends, a whole bunch of familia, and 2 oceans. Now that it is a road-trip. That is something for which I might justify the use of a car – or at least an old used one that gets about 40 mpg. It began and ended in two of the so-called great urban centers of our society, San Francisco and New York City. In between, I went through more of God’s beautiful Earth than most ever get to see in a lifetime, or two. As well as seeing a few of the saddest and most pathetic places one might ever visit. Along the way I think I discovered just how truly ‘American’ – as in from this land – I have actually become, as well as how correct I probably was in my last blog proclaiming that, “cities [are] not reality.” Of dozens of amazing road trips I taken in my life, this was The Epic. Coast to coast in several symbolic snippits.

In Search of Ishi

September 5^th

           My last week with the Big Trees was a flurry of activity – hikes, stargazing, patrols, packing and a whole bunch of those deep, nostalgic breathes as I said goodbye to the numerous marvels I had witnessed all Summer. I had heard about a particular old giant that I’d wanted to visit this season – The Ishi Tree. Named after the last truly free man to roam the now United States, the last “wild Indian” to live outside of the European invasion. As fitting a name as possible I suppose, as “Ishi” is supposedly one of the largest trees on planet Earth, and also one of the most isolated, wild, free - there are no trails or markers to draw in the tourists, and one has to wander through the woods for a few miles to find him. My kind of spot.

Childish Empires and Ancient Trees (plus bears & meteors)

August 14 –

            Giant Sequoias. Muir Grove, Slight Return. Today I finally wander back to where my epic Summer began. On this day, a light rain falls (thankfully wetting the parched ground) during my late afternoon saunter. After two months of dishing them out, I’m certain there is no longer a need to wax poetic with more flowing adjectives trying to describe the grandeur of these places. So I won’t.

Ahwahnee, Day 6

Day 6, August 3

            From our perfect campsite, sunrise is as spectacular as sunset was. Half Dome and Yosemite Valley are glistening in the early morning rays. The full moon is still visible above them. Shadows glide through Little Yosemite Valley, our route for this final Ahwahnee saunter. Again, sitting in silence for what seems like hours, I am unwilling to leave this place. Views from enormous hills and mountains and peaks have always drawn me into that “Wilderness Trance” I mentioned yesterday. Not surprising that my family names are “Duneman” = Man On a Dune, and “Lamontagne” = The Mountain. I guess we of these clans were supposed to view the world from above. It certainly feels like home to me. Often, as I am leaving a place that had such an impact on me, I stop to soak it in one final time, with a nostalgic deep breathe. I had to do that twice today. It is hard to leave these places.

Ahwahnee, Day 5

Day 5, August 2

            Cloud’s Rest, indeed. Resting among the clouds after an intense climb straight uphill to 9,926 feet above sea level. We earned these views today. All the way up we meandered past stunning mountain views and now we sit at the peak of peaks. It is a 360 degree panorama that puts one in what I like to call a “Wilderness Trance”. You could just sit and stare for a day, or thirty. Religious adjectives abound.

Ahwahnee, Day 4

Day 4, August 1

            Water. Agua. The theme of this divine day. Greeting the morning with the calls of the mountain chickadees and a crisp, cool splash of Lewis Creek’s pure H2O across my face, I could sit there all day and just soak in these liquid sanctuaries. The way to explore Yosemite and its waters is with a slow, deliberate saunter. Thoreau has a wonderful take on walking and “sauntering.” Evidently, the word “saunter” comes from France in the Middle Ages, “sante terre” - holy land. People claiming to be on their way to the holy land would stop and ask for alms and food, and soon they came to be known as the “sainte terrers” – the holy landers. I like that. Because here, in this holy land, you must move slow and pay attention to the water and the hidden adventures to be found around every turn.

Ahwahnee, Day 3

Day 3, July 31

            Glorious day. I am awakened by a text message at dawn informing me that I am now the proud uncle of a brand new nephew. Not sure what could possibly top that event or make this day even more special, I now get to journey deep into the backcountry of Ahwahnee. Evidently there was a bear in the backpackers camp that morning, drawn by some food left outside of one of the mandatory bear boxes found everywhere in the High Sierra. Quite a commotion, evidently. I was so happy with the new news that I slept right through all of it. Glorious day, indeed.

Ahwahnee, Day 2

Day 2, July 30

            Yosemite is a very busy place in the Summer. After a long morning of waiting in lines, our backcountry permit is secured, but only for a next day departure. So we had to skip what had promised to be an extraordinary first night down in Lyell Canyon. Bummed, but realizing that wherever we ended up would be jaw dropping, we weren’t too upset. Plus it’s all the more reason to return to this special, special place for another trip very soon. After a delicious hot breakfast of eggs, bacon and hashbrowns, and a good chat with the good folks sitting around the little communal breakfast table at the Tuolumne Lodge restaurant, we head out for the day. Instead of backpacking into Lyell Canyon, we day hike up to the famous Mono Pass, where you get a clear yet distant view of Mono Lake via Bloody Canyon and down through the eastern valley. As we started off, I was very conscious of the fact that something I had been planning and dreaming up for a very long time was now underway – my first visit to Yosemite’s High Sierra backcountry. Momentous moments abound this Summer.

Ahwahnee, Homeland of the Ahwahneechee (most people call it Yosemite) - Day 1

July 29^th-August 3^rd

            Yes, I talk a lot about John Muir these days. With good reason. He was an example of what a truly “Great American” can and should be. The Sierra Nevadas were his temple and he treated them with the honor and respect due to such a holy land. His writings about Yosemite and the entire “Range of Light” are poetic, inspiring masterpieces. But there were people there long before Brother Muir, honoring and respecting the divine landscape that is today called “Yosemite.” You should know the real name of this place. Ahwahnee = The Place of the Gaping Mouth. Old Chief Tenaya and the Ahwahneechee = the last free people to inhabit this sacred valley. I finally had the honor to visit their land and spent five glorious days wandering its peaks and valleys; soaking in its crystal waters. There is a reason millions of people flock into Yosemite Valley every year. Despite my mixed feelings about such multitudes – many of whose disgusting behavior voids their right to visit there, imho – I understand why it has been flooded with tourists. It is simply stunning in its grandeur. “Man needs beauty as well as bread.”

Picking Your Jaw Up Off the Ground (and fighting off false fear)

July 19^th

             I’ve been doing quite a bit of that lately. It seems around every corner I wander, there is some jaw-dropping vista of one type or another. I can, without reservation, say that I am now pretty much in love with Sequoiadendron giganteum: some of the most magnificent beings I’ve ever had the privilege to meet. I don’t think I will ever tire of just staring up and gasping at the fact that something could be so ancient, so giant, so beautiful. If these fluffy adjectives I constantly use seem silly, you have clearly never been in a Sequoia forest – go visit grandpa and then try to describe the experience in this language of ours.

The Loneliest Tree In Sequoia National Forest

July 5^th

            After being immersed in such awe and beauty for several weeks now, finally came the moment I had been awaiting with a sort of morbid curiosity. It was an experience that I knew would unsettle me and give much pause when thinking about the region I inhabit for the Summer. Converse Basin - one of those dark, tragic stains upon the history of this holy land. If you look on a map of Sequoia National Forest/Monument, all you will see are the words “Converse Basin”, or “Boole Tree”, or “Chicago Stump”, perhaps. But if you have read your history and know what took place here, these words will conjure up some very old demons from American history.

The Freest Free (Thoughts on Independence Day)

July 4th, 2012

            First view of Kings Canyon, California. A hearty "wow!" is appropriate. For a pseudo-Southwest boy, my awe at this most marvelous of West Coast canyons was profound on this Independence Day. The mighty Rio de los Reyes Santos cutting through its heart was considerably smaller due to the absence of snow this year, but still mighty. I miss the canyons. There is something remarkably comforting about gazing down into their depths, or staring up at their heights. They seem to carry this sense of freedom, escape, protection. Canyons call out to you, inviting you in, offering you silent bursts of understanding.

More Mr. Muir (and why hiking down is far worse than hiking up)

June 28

            I went into the “Giant Forest” in Sequoia National Park for the first time on this day. By the end of the day I had seen and experienced more sights and sounds, and been filled with more awe than any previous day yet here in Inyo (as well as tweeking my knee after forgetting my Summer mantra – Don’t Rush Anywhere. Ever.) It was on this day that I finally felt immersed. Deep in it. This grove was one spot in the Sierras that captured brother Muir’s full attention back when he wandered freely about, soaking in every tiny detail of these vast mountains and valleys. After exploring this massive grove, Muir dubbed it aptly “The Giant Forest” because it was and is exactly that, in every sense of the word. They say that nowadays this is one of the most “touristy” of all the places in the park, so I guess I had my doubts as to its current condition. But anything that Muir spoke of with such eloquence draws me, so off I went.

All in the Details

June 27

            A remarkable night stargazing by Emerald Lake in the high Sierras. I have to remind myself and be grateful that I do indeed get to do this all Summer; it’s not just a little two-day getaway. Why we wait to take these journeys when we have the privilege to do so baffles me more each day. So many of our brothers and sisters will never have the chance. With this in mind, I travel, observe and learn from these places. Tonight, I am staring at the heavens under an absolutely radiant night sky high in the mountains… Ursa Major. North Star. Ursa Minor. Draco. Corona Borealis. Bootes. I suppose there is some ancient instinct in us to simply gaze into the night sky and ponder things. This was perhaps the best night to date that I have observed the estrellas. It is easy to do at this altitude with such brilliant celestial light! I can only hope for many more such alpine nights.

Ice Cold Energy

June 26

            Glacier ice and fresh snowmelt draining slowly down the mountains… thus is origin of the water in the thousands of glacial lakes in the Sierra high country. Getting to know a handful of them as I begin my backcountry wandering, I’m fairly certain that I have tasted the freshest water on planet Earth. Clear, delicious, pure and ice cold. It must be a thousand times better for mind, body and spirit than any city sludge.

Azul

June 25

            Blue sky against Red Fir. The vivid blue in this California Sierra Nevada sky is hard to describe. It is a hue so profound and clear that it's somewhat startling every time you look up. Viewed against Red Firs or other dark green conifers it just glows a brilliant blue. I found myself stopping several times to just stare up as we hiked out from our first overnight at Weaver Lake. It was my first night camped out under the Sierra Nevada stars... another momentous day.

First Views...

1. June 19

            A momentous day. First glimpse of a Sequoia grove... hard to express with our limited language. The Paiute name for this region is INYO = The Dwelling or Resting Place of a Great Spirit. We would do well to name these sacred places with such accuracy. After a short two-mile hike from the (thankfully) closed Dorst Campground (thus resulting in complete solitude for this most memorable hike), I quite literally gasped as I came up the hill and suddenly found myself face to face with a 200'+ old giant. No fences, no sidewalks, no mass of shouting tourists as found elsewhere in the park. Just that Great Spirit and I.

My First Summer in the Sierras

June 17 – EWR --> SFO

           Sleeping off a most appropriate NYC despedida full of good music, good dance, good friends... I awake crossing the Great Plains, viewing these tiny little square plots below. My first thought of this grand Summer voyage: I can't help but wonder how it is that they have tried to make their world and this good Earth so square when in fact it is one enormous circle. 

            Over the blessed Rocky Mountains, my breath quickens and a “wow” escapes my lips as I stare out the plane window. Snow topped peaks and lush green valleys – home to my first backcountry hiking trip some twenty years earlier. Some very good memories are kept down there.

            Then Utah and her perfect red rock palaces glowing in the sun below. Glorious Utah. Home to many more defining memories and experiences within this slow, deliberate re-connection journey that I am on. I will see you again soon.

            Another short nap and, suddenly, my first view of the Sierra Nevadas is no less than the crown jewel of John Muir's "Range of Light" – Yosemite Valley seen from 30,000 feet above. Of course. Half Dome is clearly visible, yet looks like a small stone. I take a deep breath. The endless mountains slowly stretch into the clouds on the southern horizon… that’s where I’m headed. 

Children of the Empire

Inspired the Summer 2012, after entering the Giant Sequoia belt of California's Sierra Nevadas for the first time...

So...

After years of traveling, living, studying, listening, questioning, but mostly laughing, all over these Americas, North & South...

…and through these experiences beginning to understand that we who reside upon this Turtle Island now called the US of A live in the latest of a long, long line of crumbling Empires who have attempted to dominate and control almost every living thing around them, and in the process spiritually, psychologically and physically separating ourselves from the cycles of the Earth, thus creating an unprecedented crisis upon Mother Earth...

...and we are its children...

...then, as the children of the Empire,

What are we to do about all of this? And when will we do it?