Wow - I am so far behind!! We are in Texas at the moment but I will try and power through the last couple of weeks to catch up.
When I last left you we were spending our second night in Yosemite. We decided to book a third so we could check out “the amazing GIANT sequoia trees” that were thousands of years old in the Giant Sequoia Grove, just outside of Wawona - a 1.5 hour drive up a mountain.
We had breakfast, collected our packed lunch - “Thanks Mum” - jumped in our little green car, and headed up the mountain. We spent the next hour and a half slowing twisting and turning along a road that came dangerously close to very sharp and high drops. No guard rails in site, just a sheer cliff face that plunged into the valley below, a valley that was being carved by an ocean of pounding water, made up of the melted winter snow. Think River Wild - an awesome movie!
As we slowly climbed higher, we were again met with a scene that looked like it had been plucked from an old book containing beautifully painted oil landscapes. The slight fog/mist making the scene look all the more surreal and aged.
Higher and higher we went, weaving around corner after corner. I had to focus on the road directly in front of us for two reasons; the first, and most obvious to anyone who knows me, car sickness (remember our trips to the Gold Coast when we went the “back way”, family?); the second was the height - again, not one of my favourite things. But as we got higher, we started watching the temperature reading in the car drop - “7 degrees ... 4 degrees ... what the ... 1 degree??”.
The landscape had suddenly changed from crisp, green, to soft, white. It was beautiful.
We arrived in the very small town of Wawona. All we could see was a general store, a petrol station and an amazing two story house that looked like it stepped out of a movie about the American civil war. It was the whitest white, with a wrap around verandah, french windows and pillars framing the front entrance. The green surroundings made the house pop out even more. On the lawn in front of the house, two old wooden lawn chairs sat, looking so inviting that I could see myself in one, wearing a flowing white dress with a giant hat, sipping iced tea and asking after the health of my visitor - another “Flake ad” Lady.
Flake fantasy aside, we filled up on petrol, greatfully used the facilities (you take every chance you can get when traveling), and headed in to the forest of giants.
Snow everywhere, we parked our car, got out, shivered (and maybe swore a bit), grabbed a guide booklet and started on our way up the path to see the giants. Marty started reading the pamphlet and was discouraged to hear that the trees were apparently not the biggest, not the oldest, and not the tallest ... ok. This was a bit of a come down. But, we decided to have a look at the self-deprecating forest anyway.
Even though the trees were supposedly not the most impressive in the world, we were awed by the beauty and serenity of the forest. We were in the presence of living things that had been alive for more than 2500 years. It was mind blowing to think what the forest had witnessed in that time.
We came across one giant sequoia that had been mutilated over a hundred years ago. Early settlers had for some reason thought it would be easier to cut a tunnel through the tree rather than just going around it. We read a sign that described how the tree was slowly growing bark over the places where the tunnel had been cut in an attempt to heal itself. I walked ‘inside’ and placed my hand on the area that had been exposed where the settlers had cut. I wasn’t sure if it was the temperature or just the texture, but I felt a vibration that made my whole hand tingle. I felt a sadness and a quiet calm resonating from the tree. After a moment, tears had sprung from eyes, not enough to trickle down my face, but enough to blink back and taste. It was a strange and beautiful moment.
We decided to head in the direction of another giant - signposted as being 6 kms away. We started walking and after only 5 minutes noticed that we were absolutely alone in the dark, old forest. The path had ended and the only sign of any trail was where the snow had been stamped away by earlier visitors. We wandered along this ‘path’, occasionally seeing a marker that we took as being the ‘official directional signage’, stepping over a trickling creek, spotting deer quietly grazing on the small amount of grass that had started revealing itself through the snow.
We realised that it was getting late. There was no one else in site, we couldn’t even hear anyone else. We we alone. Marty relished in the isolation. He said he loved moments when you can be all alone, outside. All I could think of was that yes, we were all alone and vulnerable. We agreed that we should head back to the car. We said good bye to the quiet forest and walked back to the sounds of people. We did manage to spot a chipmunk along the way!! It was darting through the snow and when it saw us, dove into a nearby fallen tree trunk to hide.
Back in the car, the warmth, we headed back down the hill towards our tent.
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