Day 19, August 6: Big Trees
Leaving Yosemite is no quick trip. From Tuolumne Campground
where I stayed to the south entrance of the park is 110 miles. That includes a
detour up to Glacier Point to see Nevada and Vernall Falls and a good view of
Half Dome.
I immediately felt release leaving the campsite. Sharing
time with others for four days had taken a toll on me. I couldn’t wait to be
free of the need to socialize. I left by 7 a.m., so traffic was light for quite
a while. I passed herds of deer grazing in the meadows along the road, but
still no bears. Dammit.
When I reached Glacier Point, I walked out to the point with
all the other tourists. I’ve been completely ruined by all this hiking – I yearn
to see everything from a closer viewpoint; I realize I’ll never be satisfied by
the easy look again. There is a trail that runs from Glacier Point to the
lodge, passing by the falls. I could ride the shuttle up and hike the 8.5 miles
back down, and I hope to do that someday. I thought might even go back in a few
days when I’m finished here, but I know now that’s going to happen.
I owe a great big thank you to my hiking buddy Rick from the
group hike. He insisted I come down to Sequoia National Park and Kings Canyon
National Park. They butt up to one another, so you can’t really visit one
without the other. At least I can’t. He also insisted I go all the way back to
Cedar Grove at the very back of Kings Canyon. What great advice that was.
The drive from Yosemite to Kings Canyon and Sequoia took me
through some disparate landscape. From the lush green of Yosemite, the land
quickly began to yellow. The lack of rain was obvious, and the landscape
reminded me more of Oklahoma in August than what I imagine for California.
Then, suddenly, I began seeing vineyards. It was such a strange sight to see
the dead grass surrounding lush green fields of grapes. I stopped at a fresh
fruit stand and bought a few plums, and then bought lunch at a lunch wagon of
Mexican food parked in a convenience store parking lot. And before long, I
began seeing the mountains and big trees I was heading for.
When I pulled into the park, I went to the information desk
and asked about camping and hikes. This is a small enough park that there are
openings for prime camping spots, and I found one. The campground I chose is
the last one in a string of four, nearest the trailhead, which is the end of
the road in the park. The ranger I talked to is an avid hiker herself, so she
pulled out some topographical maps and pointed out some good hikes. I’m taking
the first one tomorrow; it will be about eight miles long in some of the most
beautiful land I’ve seen.
I know, I know, I’ve said that before. But driving the 30
plus miles out to the campsite, I pulled over probably 10 times to take
pictures and to just take in the beauty of this place. Layer after layer of
mountains reach out as far as you can see, and the trees range from small and
dry looking to the huge red-colored pines and firs that give this place its
name. The granite walls reaching up and the stony Kings River that border the
road really tempted my eyes away from the task of driving. And on the long,
winding road, I saw very few cars. It’s one of the least populated of the parks
I’ve visited.
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| Grant and I, chillin' |
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| Some other huge tree - not huge enough for a name |
I was corrected by Rick when I called these trees redwoods.
These are not redwoods, they are sequoias, and although they are the same
family, they are not the same tree. I will have a better look tomorrow, because
part of the trail I’m taking goes through one of the groves.
I can’t wait to hike under those trees. I’m finding the
energy I find among these giants, just like in the redwoods, instills a peace
in me I can’t explain. This is the most relaxed I’ve felt for a while, and I
don’t think the trees are the only reason. I was starting to feel anxious,
trying to figure out where to go and when to go and where to camp and all those
things. I can feel the movement towards the end of the trip, and figuring out
the route home is a challenge. But about halfway here, everything just seemed
to begin to feel right. And when I arrived, I knew the next few days would be
here, and I would enjoy this part of the trip immensely. When it’s time to head
out, I’ll know that too.
Learning to trust that the right thing will become clear is
an important lesson. I know Byron Katie says, “We don’t make decisions;
decisions are made.” I embrace that idea in theory, but in practice it’s not as
easy. So instead of agonizing over what I’m going to do next, I’ve allowed
things to unfold. I know now I won’t be going back to Yosemite – I’ll have to
save that hike for another visit. I also won’t be going back to Snohomish
(sorry Sally – it’s too far). And I won’t be going across southern Utah, as
much as I love that area, it is August and a cooler time will be next May.
Instead I’ll head east, just south of these parks, toward
Las Vegas. I will get some desert experience as I drive through Death Valley,
but I won’t linger there. I’ve heard Pahrump,
Nevada, is worth a visit, so I’ll swing through there, then head north,
choosing scenic routes whenever possible. I see that my journey may head
through Great Basin National Park, so I’ll probably check that out. Then I want
to see the great Salt Lake and the Wasatch mountains. After hiking in those
places for a day or so, it should be time to head back across I-80. If I have
time, I’ll swing up through the Grand Tetons, but we’ll have to see.
This route just kind of decided itself as I looked at the
map tonight. I have looked at it a number of times before and it seemed a total
mystery of how to get home. Now it seems clear. That is, of course, unless it
changes. What a lovely way to travel. And maybe, implementing this fluidity
into my everyday life as I hope to will be just as satisfying, joyful, surprising,
and enriching.
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