Tuesday, May 26, 2009

In the Steps of John Muir

DW and I had a lovely time in Sequoia and Kings Canyon National Parks. We didn't get to spend much time in Kings, but my impression was that it was not altogether different from Yosemite valley, which, of course, is beautiful beyond words, despite the crowds that always stuff it to brimming in their capitalist frenzy for tacky gift shop merchandise. We would have liked to do some hiking there, but we didn't have time. We couldn't leave the dogs in the car, anyway, so we reluctantly left it after only a cursory glimpse of its rushing streams and towering granite structures.

We did pass an entire day in Sequoia, treasuring our brief contact with the largest trees in the world. In fact one of them, the Sherman Tree, is the largest living thing on the planet. Think about that for a moment. Larger than whales, larger even than the dinosaurs. AND it's about 2,200 years old. In this tree's incredible span of years, our fleeting visit would not even register on its timeline. To it, we were truly insignificant. We've been in Giant Sequoia groves before, but certainly none of this magnitude. Everywhere we looked, massive living pillars held the sky aloft and held me enthralled.

And yet, I couldn't help but be put off by the masses of humanity, crowding around, snapping pictures, rabidly purchasing souvenir t-shirts, as if this thing of natural majesty, this awesome work of God, were only another in a series of life's spectacles, the next intangible commodity to consume while muttering perfunctory lip-service to "life-changing experiences" and moving on in a desperate attempt to quicken a vacuous existence. How pathetically small it all is.

Returning to our home in the Central Valley, however, was completely unfulfilling. It has grown hot here, and the dry summer has set in. Everything seemed dusty and cramped. The sweeping grandeur of mountain landscapes with their space and cool air had forced an unflattering comparison to the flat little huddle of stucco homes that make up my community.

Yes, it is time to go home.

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