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.
It started poorly, I guess you might
say, at the entrance to Crescent Meadow as I waded through a bunch of folks
gawking at, filming, and probably annoying the hell out of a momma bear and her
cub. I wanted to stop and urgently explain (without angrily screaming) to these
well-intentioned but dangerously ignorant folks that the last thing you want to
do is get in the way of a momma bear and her cub (they’re lucky to still have
all their arms for more picture taking), and that by making bears used to
humans and perhaps expecting food you are in essence giving them a death
sentence, your cute picture be damned. But strangely, momma didn’t seem that
angry… yet. So I waited for a few moments as the crowd snapped away, and
finally seeing the cub near momma in safety and both off the trail a bit I
passed by, smacking my ever-present Sierra tree book loudly in an attempt to
create some kind of noise or fear that might scare them off even further, as
well as associate those people with something other than food and clicking
cameras. I might like to record it as my first “bear encounter” but I won’t.
I’ll wait until it’s in the “wild” and camera free.
Within five minutes I was suddenly basically alone on the trail. Odd, really,
because there were so many people at the entrance. Was a few minute hike really
too much for most of them?! But I’ll take the solitude. Soon enough I found
myself crossing a downed old tree and sitting alone in the middle of the meadow
that Muir once called “the gem of the Sierra”. It’s quite a small meadow, but
once in the midst of it, I suddenly understood its charm. It is ringed by Giant
Sequoias and in these alpine meadows one can hear the wind, the birds, the
trees, the insects, and the grasses all humming in unison. It creates quite an
orchestra. I sat calmly for some twenty (or sixty?) minutes, setting the tone
for the rest of my daylight wanderings. These meadows win gold for best spot to
take an afternoon nap on a Sequoia trunk. Soon I crossed over the meadow via
the huge, naturally downed Sequoia and came out through a few more marvelous
and still upright Sequoias and back to the trail. Then on to Tharp’s Log at the
edge of another sublime meadow. This is the spot where, in the 1800s, a rancher
built a cabin inside of a fallen Sequoia and lived in it every Summer
for some 40 years. My kind of dude.
As if all that weren’t enough for a wonderful afternoon, the awe of the day
truly began… After hiking about an hour along the amazing Trail of the Giant
Sequoias - an out of the way trail that winds around the eastern side of Giant
Forest - I strolled up from a little valley, came to the top of a ridge, passed
some spectacular vistas, and soon met a gnarled old giant, standing guard atop
the crest. In a forest of remarkable trees, this abuelito was sort of like the lone watchman surveying all below.
Standing solitary up there, obviously the king of this hill. I’m sure Muir had
more than one encounter with this wise old señor.
Naturally, I had to stop and listen for a bit. An amazing sight, abuelito with his ancient red bark
against the brilliant blue sky. He let me know that what I was about to see in
the valley below was sacred in every sense of the word, and that I should
prepare myself. With only a few hours of daylight left, I started the descent,
planning to move along smoothly and end the day with sunset on the famous Moro
Rock. A great plan, in theory.
Another prescribed fire in the Giant Forest had been smoldering for two days,
so in the valley the smoke was settling and, once again, creating an
otherworldly glow on the trees. About twenty minutes down the trail, I rounded
a corner right into the heart of a huge stand of Big Trees, quite literally
stopped in my tracks, and just stood in rapt silence for ten, twenty, thirty
minutes? Time vanished. The sun was reflecting off the smoke, just brilliant
shades of red. The trees were outlined in color as if by a master artist. Hazy
shadows bouncing everywhere I looked. Massive Sequoias just racing upwards
towards the heavens. I might say it was the most beautiful place I’ve ever
seen. Dozens of these old giants enveloped me, this tiny being on this tiny
trail, hundreds of feet below. Themselves surrounded and guarded by enormous
Pines and Firs. They all just glowed with the fading sunlight and smoke.
Numerous fallen, dead trees adding the necessary balance to the picture. Bright
green meadow grass below. Brilliant blue sky above. I couldn’t move, but felt
like I was floating through this enchanted place. In the distance I even saw a
few flames from the prescribed burn. Minutes passed and I hardly walked ten
feet. I might as well have been on another planet. But this is right here,
right now. Earth. Home. I simply gave thanks that I had been granted the
privilege of seeing and feeling this sacred place. Mr. Muir sums it up once
more, “Glad to be a servant of servants
in so holy a wilderness.”
As I finally, slowly, continued down the trail, I couldn’t help but think that
if it hadn’t been for so-called “radicals” like John Muir, like all the “wild”
Indians who resisted the horrific invasion of this land and defended these
places, like all the “crazy” environmentalists who took on those damn logging
and mining companies that were running rampant, destroying everything they
could touch in the name of ‘free enterprise’ and ‘manifest destiny’ during the
1800s, this glorious, holy place and all those that still remain would not
exist: they would have all been destroyed. So that some greedy bastard could
make a few short-term dollars, Earth be damned.
But this is a battle that has not ended, because their
war is against the Earth herself. That wicked 1% who would do the same thing
today to these last free, wild, sacred places would do well to take a trip to
this divine grove of wise old giants and listen to what they have to say to us.
It is amazing what you can hear if you but choose to listen. I don’t want to
get all militant, but maybe this time the grandpa trees will have a better
chance (and there will never again be another Converse Basin clear cut - google
it), because in front of these giants will be thousands of us, also standing
guard, should they dare try to destroy what remains of this here Turtle Island.
The Dwelling Place of a Great Spirit.
I never made it to Moro Rock that day. There will plenty of other days to watch
the sun set from that vista. There was other far more important business to
attend to along the Trail of the Giant Sequoias. As darkness fell, I finally
tried to move very quickly, too quickly, through the forest to get back down
towards Crescent Meadow and the parking lot. It was a long hike. I started to
hurry. Once again, I would learn the lesson that the old giants were trying to
tell me – Don’t Rush Anywhere. Ever. As I bumped along far too quickly down the
trail, racing the coming darkness, I hurt my knee and would end up limping
around for the next two weeks. Gravity will rock you hiking downhill if you are
not careful, and it is a force with which your joints cannot possibly compete.
Much easier to just exercise your legs, put in the effort, and go uphill. After
leaving Church, I should have known better. I had a light; I knew where I was
going; I had water; there was no real reason to hurry out.
If we
would only choose to listen…
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