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.
We have been taught to view it as
silly, or even unreal that humans can communicate with this world around us;
with the other beings of this good Earth, as if we were somehow separate and
superior. But we were taught wrong. So I greeted grandpa and asked his
permission to visit for a bit, stating my intentions. I joined what seemed like
a perfectly formed circle of about a dozen old giants and just sat listening
for some time. They had much to tell. So appropriate was it that this stand of
Sequoias is named "Muir Grove" after my newest hero, John Muir, the
first white man to finally understand the power of this place. You leave these
holy sites with a calmness and contentedness rarely found elsewhere. Spirit
full, senses ablaze. "Man needs
beauty as well as bread," wrote Muir. Truer words were never spoken. I
can feel the “immersion” beginning after this remarkable afternoon. Summer 2012
promises to be sublime.
2. June 21
First full day of Summer and my
second venture into the realm of the giants takes me to glorious Redwood Canyon
and Hart Meadow. My awe increases with each day that I inhabit Inyo. Senses
come alive as if reborn. So much we lose being confined to concrete and steel
and urban noise. Slowly continuing my botanizing, I begin to recognize the
magnificent Red Firs and Sugar Pines, Incense Cedars and Ponderosa Pines. All
giants in their own right, they appear dwarfed next to Sequoiadendron giganteum. A prescribed fire burns in the
neighboring hills, creating a slightly surreal layer of smoke wafting through
the hills and down into the canyon. Playing with the reflecting sunlight, an
amazing red glow is created off the Sequoia bark, further adding to the
brilliance of the day.
After a slow 3-hour saunter
through the forest, I am suddenly feeling rushed due to having to catch a ride
back to the Forest Service barracks. Rushing through a Sequoia filled
canyon is no way to behave, so I promise myself to return to this
valley and make a long day (or twenty) out of it, to more slowly and
deliberately absorb all they have to teach. After these first couple of hikes I
can't help but wonder why so many people are so unwilling to put in just a
little bit of effort to make their experiences in these breathtaking, sacred
places one hundred times more significant and memorable. It takes
only a minimum of effort to hike two or four or six miles, yet the reward is
invaluable. The mass of us stay, as if chained, only on the easy routes, the
effortless destinations, the postcard pictures, stuck with the crowds of the
"over-civilized", in the words of Mr. Muir, as if we are afraid to
taste real freedom or absorb real beauty.
Why is this?
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