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.

            In the late 1800s, private lumber companies were ransacking the American West, tearing down entire forests, and, here in California, clear-cutting massive groves of ancient Redwood and Sequoia trees. Often, the profit gained in Sequoia-land was either very minimal or left solely in the hands of a very few greedy barons. Knowing what I know of the character of these sorts of people, I feel that the true reason these marvels of the ancient world were destroyed was not for a few dollars, but instead for these lost souls to try to assert their dominance over the Earth, to demonstrate that they and not the Earth were in control. History (and common sense) shows how pathetically wrong they were. As such, our history books should treat them with the same callous disregard that they showed this sacred land, rather than proclaiming them “pioneers” or “captains of industry.” Language has power. It’s about time we used it properly.

            During that time, the largest Sequoia grove in existence was Converse Basin. From all reports it was just filled with ancient, beautiful Monarchs (enormous Sequoias), some of which were the largest trees on planet Earth. In the decades before and after 1900 the Sanger Lumber Company gained timber rights to the area and began a wholesale slaughter of this priceless grove, thinking that by felling such an enormous quantity of wood they would make a fortune (or was it to demonstrate their “control” over the Earth?) Thousands of trees were felled, acre upon acre, entire hillsides leveled. Converse Basin became a graveyard, filled with blackened stumps, washed out hills, barren valleys. I can only imagine what the destruction must have looked like right after they completed their grisly task.

Let me be blunt: I cannot fathom how any man who worked there could have felt one ounce of pride or satisfaction in what he had done when he received his measly slave labor paycheck. I simply cannot comprehend it.

            Today, one can feel a great, restless spirit when you enter this area. After having seen up close miles and miles of the most marvelous groves of Giant Sequoias, I knew what should have been on those hills; what should have been in those valleys that we drove slowly past. Instead we gawked at huge, charred stumps. When we passed through “Stump Meadow”, we just stared in blank silence. It is a huge meadow that is literally filled with dead stumps. I could clearly imagine how stunning and divine it must have been. I have seen what it must have been. My father aptly summed it up by commenting that it reminded him of the scene from Dances With Wolves when they come upon a huge field of slaughtered buffalo, just laying there wasted, mile after mile of needless death. Methinks that - upon entering these sacred, majestic forests - how even the thought could enter one’s mind: “hmm… if we chopped these down we might make money”, rather than humbly walking in awe amidst them seeking their guidance, is the root of the problem in this country and much of the world. Perhaps it’s this perverted way of thinking, this utter disconnection from the Earth that has caused and is causing most of the ills we struggle against so mightily today. After many years of slowly learning these lessons, I try not to carry useless and crippling guilt from a past that I had nothing to do with, but at that moment I felt the need to apologize. So I did.

            There are two famous trees in Converse Basin. The first is no longer living. Newly arrived White people of the time called him the General Noble Tree. Apparently he was one of the largest Sequoia trees that ever existed. Many other white people from the East Coast did not believe that a tree could grow this large; it was called the “California Hoax”. In order to prove that, in fact, these trees did exist some “entrepreneurs” decided they should cut General Noble down in sections, re-assemble him, and then show him off at the 1890 Chicago World’s Fair. So they did. It was considered some great feat of “American ingenuity.” Not surprisingly, everyone at the World’s Fair still thought it was a hoax. Today, to get to the so-called “Chicago Stump,” you have to drive several miles down some very bumpy back roads into Converse Basin. After a short hike, there it is. Dead, gray and black, chewed away by fire and time. There is a sign nearby declaring that “American Curiosity” led these folks to cut down this ancient grandfather to prove that he existed, or something. Someday I’m going to do what I can with this Forest Service gig to try to replace that sign with one that simply reads the lines of some old Cree Indian wisdom: “Only after the last tree is cut down… only then will you find that money cannot be eaten.” My guess is that it might provoke something other than thoughts of “American Curiosity” in the minds of the good folks who make the trip to see the Chicago Stump.

            The second famous tree is called The Boole Tree. I, however, am going to take the liberty to rename her. Boole was the name of the foreman of the lumber company who supervised the slaughter of the Converse Basin Grove. His name does not deserve remembrance except in spite. I haven’t yet found the local Native word for ‘Survivor’ so I can’t use the proper name. Therefore, “Survivor Tree” is indeed a remarkable, beautiful, gigantic old grandma. I spent an hour or so getting to know her a bit. Survivor Tree is the largest of only a couple dozen ancient trees not clear-cut in the Converse Massacre. The last remaining giant of that once spectacular grove. Try to imagine that for a minute – out of thousands of 200-250’ tall, 2,000-3,000 year old trees, they left only a handful they could not reach and Survivor Tree. At the time of the clear-cut she stood hundreds of feet above a barren landscape, solita. I can barely imagine her heartbroken loneliness. And yes, I mean that in every sense of the word. Why she alone of the thousands was left standing is a mystery. That afternoon, I suggested that they left her, unwittingly, to demonstrate the selfishness, greed, and sheer stupidity of some of our ancestors. Because today in her grandeur you can clearly see what they arrogantly destroyed.

As a bona fide tree hugger, Converse Basin is a heavy experience. I’m not trying to be dramatic when I say I felt the 100-year loneliness of the area. I was disturbed. Some of the most magnificent living things on Mother Earth were wiped out there. It is a place that carries a dark, dark memory. Perhaps similar to what you feel when you enter places that carry the horrific memories of a Wounded Knee, Sand Creek, Washita, Mystic River. The land speaks, you know.

            But I also saw and felt something else when hanging out with Survivor… today, there are thousands of small Sequoias growing throughout the once barren grove, slowly reclaiming their land. Today, she stands not so alone, but towering above her great-great-great-great grandchildren. Unforgivable, yes, that every last one of her brothers and sisters and cousins and nieces and nephews and children and grandchildren were needlessly killed. But Mother Earth is once again demonstrating in her slow deliberate manner whom is truly in control. And it’s not The Sanger Lumber Company nor pinche Mr. Boole. It will take another 2,000 years for Converse Basin to be what it was and still should be. But it will be. And those fools who think they are in control of Earth will not be.

            In case you were wondering what the wood of those thousands of priceless Giant Sequoias was used for… matches, shingles and stakes. Wooden matchsticks. Roof shingles. Grape stakes. The ancient wood is too brittle for any sort of viable commercial use. About half of it shattered upon impact after toppling hundreds of feet to the ground and was useless, left to rot. The rest was so fragile that about the only things they could think to make out of it were wooden matchsticks, roof shingles and grape stakes. The corporate fools of the 19th century made little profit from the destruction of Converse Basin.

            Today, we should remember Chicago Stump and Survivor Tree the next time we hear these 21^st century corporate fools in their unending war against the Earth tell us of the “need” to mine and cut and drill and frack and xl-keystone-tar-sand-pipeline what it took thousands of years for The Creator to make. Because if it doesn’t stop now, The Creator might just unmake us.

            I’m sorry, grandma.

Addendum:

            Summer 2015. The massive ‘Rough Fire’ rips through Converse Basin, leading to evacuations all throughout the nearby communities and completely torching upwards of 150,000 acres of land in the vicinity. Estimates of the cost of the damage ranged near the $100,000,000 mark. Watching the fire rage through our District was an experience I will never forget. But think about this: Sequoia groves absorb flames and feed off the natural fires that have burned for millennia throughout Inyo – the mighty Sierras. The heat opens their cones which drop seeds to the ground like rain and cover the forest floor, where only nutrient-rich ash remains after the fires clear the ground of small brush and other trees, making way for the sun to sprout the seeds of a new generation – it is a critical part of the life cycle of grandma Sequoia. Whereas the same fire might quickly erupt in other forests creating moonscapes on the ground and burnt matchsticks out of the trees, it cannot destroy a Sequoia grove and often does not do very much lasting damage to them (see the black fire scars visible on every single old Monarch).

Today there is no ancient grove in Converse Basin because of cursed Mr. Boole and all the other lost souls that ravaged this region so many years ago. Might the Rough Fire have been much less severe had it entered this enormous Sequoia grove and been halted there by the flame resistant bark? Might the fire not have reached anywhere near the areas it reached had majestic Converse Basin absorbed it like a sponge and calmed its flames before it hit the parched ground and drought killed trees lying to the south and west of the grove, where it exploded for the second time in a month with apocalyptic like fury?

         I’m sorry, again, grandma.