Tag Archives: John Muir

Winter Wonderland

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img_7642It wasn’t even winter yet, when I visited Calaveras Big Trees State Park. It was only December 1, but already ice and snow covered the ground.

I hadn’t considered how a 1,500 feet increase in elevation can make a big difference in temperature and weather, so I was a bit surprised to see ice and snow on the side of the road as the van climbed above the 4,ooo feet mark. This is going to be fun, I thought.

Luckily, I was properly dressed with hiking boots, jeans, a warm sweater over a long sleeve t-shirt, and my jorongo over it all. Thankfully, I remembered to grab some gloves before I left the van.

The Calaveras Big Trees State Park is proud of their trees. It costs $10 per vehicle for admission, unless you’re arriving in a bus. Buses carrying up to 24 passengers have to pay $50 for admission. It costs $100 to bring in a bus carrying more than 24 passengers. You can bet I’m going to inform people of these prices next summer when they complain about paying $5 to park where I work.

I started my State Park adventure in the visitors center. The very friendly man who took my $10 at the entrance img_7643told me that’s where I could pick up a guide for the North Grove trail. The man didn’t tell me they want 50 cents for the guide. I hadn’t put any money in my pockets because I hadn’t planned to buy any souvenirs, and I didn’t think the trees were going to panhandle me. When I told the women in the gift shop area of the visitors center that I hadn’t brought any money in with me, she told me to pick up a guide from the metal box at the start of the trail.

I took the guide that looked as if it had already been borrowed and returned. Upon seeing the guide, I understood why the park wants to collect some money for it. The guide is a booklet (not one page folded in three parts, which is what I think of as a trail guide due to what I’ve given out where I work), five letter size pages folded in half. The guide includes a lot of information.

Before I took the guide and started my icy hike, I walked through the gift shop to the exhibit area of the visitor center. In the middle of the room was a display of taxidermied animals. I didn’t stop to examine them, as I don’t particularly like seeing animals killed so humans can look at them. I did look at the exhibits on the walls, which started with information about the native people who lived in the area before the miners and pioneers showed up. There was also information about the “discovery” of the trees in the park by white folks and the subsequent destruction of some of the largest ones.

The stairs lead up to the stump of the Discovery Tree, planed smooth for dancing.

The stairs lead up to the stump of the Discovery Tree, planed smooth for dancing.

One of the trees destroyed was called the Discovery Tree. According to the guidebook,

[i]n 1853…[this tree] was stripped of its bark and felled by ambitious speculators. Since no saw was large enough, the tree was felled with…long-handled pump augers and wedges…It took five men 22 days to drill all the holes, but the perfectly symmetrical tree did not fall for several days.

The stump was planed smooth to serve as a dance floor, and a two-lane bowling alley and bar were built on the fallen trunk.

John Muir…was so angered by these events that he wrote: The vandals then danced upon the stump!

The North Grove trail took me to the remains of the Discovery Tree. It is enormous! It’s difficult to understand from photographs how huge this

This photo shows the fallen trunk of the Discovery Tree, upon which a bar and bowling alley were built.

This photo shows the fallen trunk of the Discovery Tree, upon which a bar and bowling alley were built.

tree is. I climbed carefully up the icy steps and stood on the stump of the Discovery Tree. I felt very sad when thinking about  this tree being killed by people who wanted to make money exhibiting its parts. The trail guide says the tree was only 1.244 years old when it was cut. Since some giant sequoias live to be over 3,000 years old, the Discovery Tree may have had many more years of life ahead of it, had it not been destroyed in its prime.

Another tree in the park destroyed by humans was the Mother of the Forest. The trail guide says,

In 1854 the “Mother of the Forest…” was stripped of its bark. Promoters schemed to ship the bark strips back east for reassembly at exhibitions…A crew of men worked at the tree’s systematic destruction for  ninety days…It was through the Mother of the Forest’s great sacrifice that a heightened awareness about the need to protect these trees was born.

The Mother of the Forest stripped of its bark

The Mother of the Forest stripped of its bark

At the back of the exhibit area in the visitors center is a theater running a couple of documentary films on a loop. The films give a history of the park, including how the destruction of the Discovery Tree and the Mother of the Forest led to people working to protect the trees, including the creation of Calaveras State Park.

After my time in the visitors center, I started out on my walk through the trees. I found the trail was covered in ice and snow: no clearing the trail or shoveling snow here! The trail was only visible because the snow had been packed down where people had walked. The packed snow in the middle of the trail had turned to ice and was very slippery. I wished I had remembered to carry my walking stick with me. To avoid the worst of the icy slippiness, I mostly walked on the edge of the trail, where the snow was still crunchy and my boots could gain some traction. Unfortunately, walking through the snow meant repetitively sinking up to my ankles.

Still, I was glad I was there. I didn’t feel uncomfortably cold, and I enjoyed the img_7674extra quiet the blanket of snow brought to the forest. When the sun broke through the clouds and trees and hit the ice and the whole world shimmered, well, those moments were glorious.

The North Grove of Calaveras Big Trees State Park is the sixth grove of giant sequoias I’ve visited. I think my trek through the ice and snow to look at new giant sequoias makes it official: I’m a fanatic!

This photo shows me walking through a gap cut in a tree called Hercules. The trail guide says Hercules "was one of the largest in the grove. It was blown down during a violent windstorm in December 1861.

This photo shows me walking through a gap cut in a tree called Hercules. The trail guide says Hercules “was one of the largest in the grove. It was blown down during a violent windstorm in December 1861.”

 

 

Tharp’s Log

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IMG_3326After I left the Chimney Tree, I headed to Tharp’s Log. I’d read about this fallen sequoia turned into a cabin, and I wanted to see it too.

According to https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Tharp%27s_Log,

Tharp’s Log is a hollowed giant sequoia (Sequoiadendron giganteum) log at Log Meadow in the Giant Forest grove of Sequoia National Park that was used as a shelter by early pioneers. The log is named after Hale Tharp, who was described as the first Non-Native American to enter the Giant Forest.

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More of your tax dollars at work for signage. Beyond the sign is the cabin Tharp built in the fallen sequoia tree.

Tharp had arrived in 1852 in the goldfields around Placerville, becoming a cattleman rather than a miner. Tharp moved to the area of the Kaweah River in 1856, and with guides from the Potwisha people of the area he explored the mountains above. Tharp went back in 1860 with his two sons. They climbed Moro Rock and made an encampment near Crescent Meadows. It was not until 1869 that Tharp moved a cattle herd into the Giant Forest area.[2]

Tharp established a small summer cattle ranch at Giant Forest and used a fallen log as a cabin. The log was hollowed by fire through fifty-five feet of its seventy-foot length. A fireplace, door and window exist at the wider end, with a small shake-covered cabin extension.[3]

John Muir described it as a “noble den”.[4]

It was cool to see the fallen tree Tharp made into a cabin. A sign asked folks not to go all the way inside, so I didn’t. I think it would have been cooler if the cabin had been furnished with items similar to what Tharp had when he lived there, but I don’t think the Forest Service is in the business of historical reenactment.

In any case, it was very dark in the cabin, and fairly dark outside too, since the day was cloudy and giant trees were blocking the available light. My photos didn’t come out looking very good, but I’ll share with you what I’ve got.  (I kind of like that the photos look rather ghostly.)

Entrance to the Tharp's cabin.

Entrance to the Tharp’s cabin.

The interior of Tharp's cabin. I went as far inside as the sign allowed.

The interior of Tharp’s cabin. I went as far inside as the sign allowed.

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The side of the cabin tree. The light inside the cabin comes in from the window under those projecting boards.

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Tharp’s cabin’s side yard.

All photos in this post were taken by me, even the ghostly/shitty ones.

Crescent Meadow

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According to The Sequoia Visitor (“The Official Guide of Tulare County, CA”), “Crescent Meadow was one of John Muir’s favorite meadows.” He called it the “gem of the Sierras.”

IMG_3333After I climbed Moro Rock, I took the shuttle to Crescent Meadow and started walking on the flat, paved trail running alongside the meadow. The Sequoia Visitor says the trail is “well maintained and not strenuous,” which was true. Because of these factors, there were a lot of people on the trail, adults talking loudly about ridiculous things I had no interest in hearing and kids shrieking, howling, and squealing.

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Crescent Meadow

As soon as I could, I got off the popular trail and started hiking on the more strenuous dirt trails, even though my backpack was heavy with laptop, I hadn’t brought my walking stick, and I was mildly concerned about getting lost or getting attacked by a bear (or getting attacked by a bear after I got lost). Despite my concerns (“fear” is really too strong of a word for what I felt), it was heavenly to be way from people and on my own in the moist quiet while I walked among the sequoias.

I’m not a church-going woman. The last time I attended a church service must have been some time during the last century and that was an accident. But when I’m in the woods, especially among the big trees, that’s holy to me. I want respectful silence or, at most, reverent whispers. I don’t want to be subjected to inane human conversation.

But I digress…

Crescent Meadow was lovely. I see why Mr. Muir liked it.

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The lovely Crescent Meadow. I see why Mr. Muir liked it.

But I’ll tell you, I’m just not that into meadows.

Within the last year, a friend told me she’s not so excited by waterfalls. They’re nice and all, she said (I’m paraphrasing), but they just don’t do much for her. I thought it was a little weird. How can a person not find a waterfall exciting? It’s water tumbling over rocks! But now I understand because that’s how I feel about meadows. They’re nice, but what’s the big deal?

I’ve met people at my campground who are really excited about meadows. Campers like the meadow adjacent to my campground. They walk around in it. (I tried that one day, but I got worried about snakes possibly hiding in the grass, ready to bite if disturbed. I exited the meadow before going very far.)

One day a male/female couple were looking around my campground as a future camping possibility, and they went on and on about how beautiful a nearby meadow was. Then they insisted on showing me photos they had taken of the other, beautiful meadow. I was too polite to say it, but the beautiful meadow in the photo didn’t look any different from the meadow we were standing right in front of.

In the photos below, can you tell which is Crescent Meadow and which is the meadow I live next to?

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Another time, when I asked people driving around my campground if they were looking for a place to camp, the woman in the passenger seat said no. She said they were looking at the meadow because she was thinking of painting a picture of it. Why would anyone want to paint a picture of a meadow? There’s nothing in it but grass (with maybe a snake or two hiding out there) and maybe some wildflowers. My meadow has a few rotting logs and sometimes cows are in it. Not a lot of excitement out there. Grass…not very visually stimulating.

Maybe it’s just because I grew up in a land of much vegetation, but meadows seem rather boring to me.

However, Crescent Meadow is very pretty, and I can see why John Muir liked it. I could never pick a favorite meadow, though, because they all look pretty much alike to me.

All photos in this post were taken by me.