Giant Wood

Do you remember what your world was like before cell phones, TV's or laptops? What on Earth did we do before the Internet? If you're brave enough to unplug for few days, you'll find that it's not that hard to recall. Remember when all it took was a stick or stone to entertain you for the day. Let me assure you, that the neurostimulants waiting for you in the great outdoors are still there and they are the same ones from your childhood. The internet can't compare to what Mother Nature has to offer.
Imagine waking up early in the morning to the soft glow of sunlight filling your canvas topped cabin. There's a chill in the air that quickens your need to change out of your pajamas and into your jeans and t-shirt. When you open the door and step out onto the front steps, the sunbeams piercing through the trees cause you to squint your eyes. You stretch your arms to their fullest and take in a deep breath. The unmistakable smell of evergreen fills your nose. Your blood starts coursing and all of your senses come alive. You notice a woodpecker that has been hammering a tree looking for grubs. The steady rhythmic tapping of a bird on a log is far more acceptable than a jackhammer on the street looking for underground pipes. It's when you spot a deer walking through your campsite that you feel you've made the right choice by getting away for the weekend. The doe stops, looks at you with an expression that says, "Good morning, welcome to the neighborhood" and a smile grows across your face. This is exactly the scene that we woke up to this past Independence Day weekend.

We first wanted to find camping that involved tree houses, the kind that are built high in the canopy of the jungle or forest, but Heather found something even better. She did a little research on the treehouse idea and then asked me what I thought about camping in the Sierra Nevada Mountains for the weekend. Well, yeah! I rented a car on Friday morning before the 4^th of July. We had reserved a compact car at Enterprise but they didn't have any ready at my reservation time…bonus. That usually means an upgrade. The car that was available was a PT Cruiser, not a bonus. What a stone. We both hated the car but drove it around as if we were trying to break-in a wild horse. We had every intention of making it cry. While I was picking up the car, Heather's flight was making its final approach into Los Angeles. We hadn't seen each other in four weeks, but now her show, Fiddler on the Roof, was finished and she was looking for some vacation time. I left the car rental office headed for Los Angeles airport about 30 minutes away. When I got there, I had to circle the airport terminals, in the car for 45 minutes. Heather was waiting for her bags to show up at baggage claim; I was racing the LAX 500.

After a full weekend of shows, we left LA around 5 o'clock Sunday evening driving north on Interstate 5 out of the city and over the Tehachapi Mountains. The highway snakes its way through the Tejon Pass, and then gradually descends over five miles into what the locals refer to as the San Joaquin Valley. This is the southern end of the Great Central Valley. The San Joaquin and the Sacramento Valleys meet to form the Great Central Valley. This is an awe-inspiring place and a feat of man in many respects. According to the U.S. Geological Survey Circular 1323, the Great Central Valley represents 1 percent of usable farm land in the U.S., and yet it produces 8 percent of all produce sold in the nation's grocery stores. For those of you wondering, the USDA reports nearly 25 percent of all fruits, nuts, and vegetables sold in the U.S. are imported. If you have ever planted one row of vegetables you'll appreciate the 500 mile stretch of farmland in central California used to produce everything ranging from citrus, tomatoes, and corn to strawberries, carrots, and almonds. The irrigation for the Great Central Valley is a system of canals that channels the runoff waters from snowmelt high in the Sierras. Before agricultural development, the Great Central Valley would have turned into a shallow fresh water lake each spring.

We continued to drive for the next three hours, crossing this region until the directions took us off the main road and toward the foothills of the Sierras. Although the road was still paved, it seemed like we were in the middle of one of Valencia's orange groves. The trees were close enough to the road that we could've pulled over and picked up a few oranges without walking more than 10 feet from the car. It wasn't long before we noticed a slight incline to the road in front of us and we exited the orange grove. It was a good thing too, because the light was fading fast and we wanted to make it to our campsite before dark.

I didn't know how to prepare for the overwhelming size of the trees. I had only seen pictures of them, never met one in person. The only experience I have had is with the Southern Yellow Pine, growing in the southern United States. It reaches a median height of 107 feet with a mean diameter of 47 inches. It takes nearly 100 years for that kind of growth to happen for a Yellow Pine. The Sequoia grows twice that size in the same amount of time and can continue to grow for a few thousand years more. As we meandered up the mountain, the shadows grew bigger and darker and so did the trees. Our first encounter with a gargantuan tree was strangely backlit because the sun had slipped down the backside of the mountain, placing the tree between us and the amber glow of dusk. Meeting a Giant Sequoia this way came with a feeling of being ambushed, from the shadows by Goliath and his army. After every turn in the road, the light would fade quicker behind the mountain and another massive tree would appear, jutting high above the edge of the cliff. I was intimidated, because what I was seeing did not match any previous experience of trees that I had had.

Eventually we made it to the park and checked into our rustic accommodations, in the dark. The darkness of night always seems to be more intense when you're camping. It's the kind of darkness that allows you to see stars hiding behind the stars you normally see in city. Camping in the mountains surrounded by very tall trees adds a little extra to that darkness. When you stare at that dark blue bowl full of little shimmering lights through a forest of evergreens, it can make you a little light-headed. And when leaves rustle and twigs cracks as a deer walks out of the brush you might mistake it for a moose. Yeah, I thought I was going to be trampled by a moose on my way to the restrooms. After breakfast the next morning, I saw the same gentle mule deer munching on grass in the meadow.

The next morning, Heather was quick to whip up a breakfast of granola, berries and yogurt. It sounds hippie-like and trail mix influenced but it tastes good and keeps you full until late in the afternoon. It also keeps you regular. We took the time to wash out the breakfast bowls and place them in the brown bag dish drain before we ventured off to see some giant wood.

Grant's Grove, the location of the second largest tree on Earth, was just a short hike away from the campsite. On the way we stopped for photos. You know the ones, those classic photos that demonstrate how impressively large the Giant Sequoia is when a human stands next to it. General Grant , the tree, is approximately 268 feet tall and 107 feet in girth at ground level. We learned later in the evening that General Sherman, the largest tree on Earth, is 274 feet tall and weighs an estimated 2100 tons (Flint, To Find the Biggest Tree, 2002). The National Park Service estimates it to be a healthy 2200 year old tree.

The great memories that we created together in front of the majestic backdrop of trees and time-worn landscapes will last a lifetime. As we headed back down the mountain we dreaded real life returning. We turned on our cell phones once we recognized flatland civilization and the emails, texts and voicemails came flooding into the inboxes. They were all right there waiting for us to return. I watched the Sequoias and the Sierras grow blue and hazy in the rearview mirror. By the time we made it out of the foothills, I had tamed that PT Cruiser. It handled nicely and managed to outpace all others on the Interstate, much to Heather's disapproval.

The Giant Forest was a great way to disassociate from the hurried pace of information sharing. We got up from the desk, walked out the door, and played outside like kids. The next time you think to yourself, "do I have time for this", try to remember how much fun you had discovering Mother Nature when you were young and it'll be easy to remember what you did before the Internet and flat screens.