ROAD TRIP 2006, WESTWARD: HI, SIERRA

Day 20 (6/26) Giants

One of the reasons I wanted to go to Morro Bay was photos like this, but sadly the 10 AM light and morning fog didn’t really lend itself to that kind of vision. On the other hand, I do kind of like demystifying things like that. Beauty is never obvious. Most profound! There was a veritable mole of sand dollars out there, along with considerably less than a mole of surfers in the drink, bobbing up and down like plump, blubberous little seals.

I figured with a week to kill in California, we might as well head up into the Sierra, since every time I tell people I’ve never been there they tilt their heads at an angle of exquisite pity. The drive across the state was interesting. From 60 degree temps on the coast, up and over the Coastal Ranges into 105 degree smoggy death in the Central Valley, and then back into the cool and clear 60s as we ascended up into the Sierra.

I can now say from experience that the Sierra Nevada mountains are unspeakably beautiful. I’d never seen anything so massive, a piece of land more fearsome. The Whites and the Adirondacks can be daunting and impressive, certainly, and definitely beautiful, but, at least in memory, they show their age. The peaks and faces of the Sierra don’t look old. They make you feel young. Childish. Ephemeral. They look like any second now they are going to get up and crush you without realizing.

The giant sequoias gave very much the same impression. It was odd. They weren’t that much taller than the surrounding firs, but their amazing girth and enormous, chunky limbs held tight up against their trunks implied great mass. For some reason, the biggest ones have been named after Civil War generals. Sherman is the biggest, and there’s a Grant, even a Lee. Didn’t see a Jackson.

Dave and I checked out the big trees, had a less than stellar snack bar dinner at the Lodgepole lodge in Sequoia National Park, and camped out at Stony Creek, dutifully placing all our food in the bear-proof cabinets. They say bears can smell food in your car, break windows, rip off doors, and tear through back seats to get to it. Godless killing machines indeed. We actually saw one by General Sherman, nonchalantly plodding about.

Day 21 (6/27) Springtime, for the Sierra, in, uh, the Sierra

The snow had only recently begun to melt in the Sierra, so the rivers pulsed with deadly rapids, and all the flowers thought it was spring. I spent a fun hour or too strolling around the camp site just looking at the flowers, the undisputed king of which was the snow plant (Sarcodes sanguinea). Snow plant is a saprophyte, meaning it gets all its energy from fungal associations in the soil, so no need for chlorophyll. Sort of like an Indian pipe, except this crazy thing is flaming red! This was totally a double-take plant for me. I saw a picture of a hummingbird feeding from one in one of the visitor’s centers, so maybe the red is to attract hummers for pollination. Amazing.

Dave and I hiked up to Tokopah Falls from the Lodgepole lodge, an easy little hike through a spectacular little valley. The falls were gushing with snow melt. On the way up, I saw what looked like a giant ground hog under a boulder right next to the trail. I slowed down, got on my camera, and wondered at my luck as the thing shuffled out and practically posed for me. Ken-ichi the Primal. When I got to the end of trail, people were feeding the damn things. Ken-ichi the Outraged. Of course, that was why the first one was so tame. Ken-ichi the Duped.

I lost my binoculars, which I have had for time immemorial, which pretty much ruined my afternoon. When I went to see if anyone had turned them in at the ranger station, I bumped into someone who was doing just that. Profuse thanks, etc. Mood lifted slightly.

Checked out a different grove of sequoias, then headed down the twisty road into King’s Canyon. If anything, the scenery in King’s Canyon was even more breathtaking that that in Sequoia. Sheer faces dotted with yucca spires, lit by the evening sun. At the bottom, the river rushed with ferocity. At some point, Dave said something along the lines of, “Long have I desired to look upon the kings of old,” which didn’t actually make any literal sense, like a lot of the things Dave says (Dave, if you are about to protest, one word: “Wib.” Wait, two more: “yellow distractor”), but was probably the only frame of reference we had to describe this amazing place: King’s Canyon is actually in Middle Earth. So we put on the Return of the King soundtrack, not because the scenery actually required accompaniment, but simply because we are all about excess. <crazy hillbilly>Lilies was meant to be gilded, I tells ya! With gold! Goooooolld!</crazy hillbilly>.

Argh, I need to write more. Or take lest pictures. Or change my formatting.