First Impressions of Sequoia National Park
Image provided by @picsbyjameslee.
In our eleven years together, Brandon hasn’t joined me on many hikes. It has never been his thing, and I have never pushed him too hard to come along. But I have always been so grateful for the journeys when he decided to step outside his comfort zone and join me.
When we first started dating, he knew that hiking was an obsession of mine. He knew it was one of the reasons I moved to Seattle. After more than a month apart, because the Seattle International Film Festival stole my free weekends, Brandon planned an amazing day for us. We had breakfast at one of my favorite diners. Afterward, we spent the day at Mt. Rainier National Park hiking and exploring. Afterward, we had dinner and drinks at a wonderful spot on Capitol Hill. If memory serves me correctly, this is the day I decided to make things official. After such an amazing day, I knew I wanted to spend more time getting to know this special human being.
A few years later, we found ourselves living in Los Angeles seeking new opportunities and frontiers. Months earlier, we decided Los Angeles would not be our home forever. Brandon needed to be closer to his family, and I needed to be wherever Brandon was. He would return to Seattle before me, and I would slowly return to Seattle via the Pacific Crest Trail.
As I prepared for that journey, I became obsessed with hiking as many miles as possible before the start of my journey. This also gave me ample opportunity to check some trails and parks off my bucket list.
Sequoia National Park is famous and does not need an introduction, but if you belong to the uninitiated, here is a little background.
Sequoia National Park is in California’s southern Sierra Nevada mountains. It is world famous for its huge Sequoia trees like General Sherman, and attractions like Crystal Cave, the Tunnel Tree, and its sweeping views of the Sierra Nevada mountains.
The park was a mere three hours from our home in North Hollywood. It seemed like the next great opportunity to get some miles under my belt. It was also an opportunity to experience a little slice of heaven with Brandon.
On an early Saturday morning, we left our house with the rising sun. With my car pointed north, we watched sunlight wash across the valley. As that same valley gave way to the mountains surrounding Los Angeles, we knew this change in landscape would not be the first abrupt and dramatic change of the day.
Escaping the mountains, we made our way through California’s central valley and the agricultural heartbeat of America. For hours, we drove through an endless sea of fruit trees. Like scenes straight from “The Grapes of Wrath,” we saw almond trees as far as the eye could see, and saw produce bound for America’s tables. Then suddenly, the landscape shifted again. As we neared the park, the relative flat scene morphed into rugged mountains, pine trees, and tightly packed forests. As I rolled down my window (a national park tradition of mine), the car was bathed in the earthly smells of the great outdoors. As I became consumed by the smell, I could feel myself relaxing. These sacred spaces have always provided me with such calm. Even on the most challenging hikes, I have found such great escape and joy in our national parks.
With a paid entrance fee and a parked car, Brandon and I began hiking among giants. These giants have seen all of America’s history. They were there when the first inhabitants of this land began to take root. These caretakers would inspire future conservationists. They watched as ships sailed from Europe. They witnessed western expansion, and Muir’s “discovery.” They have witnessed the birth of countless American ideas, and they have stood strong on countless occasions when we fell short of those ideas.
Scarred and marked by fire, they are beginning to tell new stories. That story unfolds in lines defined by a world seeped in chaos and frightening possibilities unknown to this planet. Some of my fellow human beings might deny the change, but the trees have held their own congress, and they seem in complete agreement.
To walk among these giants is a religious experience. It forces one to feel small and insecure. This is not a bad thing. We need to be reminded every so often about how little time we have in this world. These trees were here before we took our first breath, and they will be here long after we are gone. We are meant to cherish, worship, and learn from their lessons. To do so, we must first overcome our own egos and self-centeredness. If we can achieve this, we can begin to appreciate all they have to offer.
Walking beyond these giants, the rest of the park unfolds in quiet reserves and moments that feel less grand, but no less special. As Brandon and I followed the trail, we reversed to childlike versions of ourselves. We toyed with giant pinecones. We took cliched photos with outstretched arms providing scale to trees defined by unbelievable circumference. We watched a small black bear search for good, and we did everything within our power to ensure we were not trespassing upon his world any more than already known. We sat on the forest floor, laughed, talked, and fell into the moment. As the hours wore on, I felt our adult selves returning. This temporary sabbatical had to meet its end. Nothing lasts forever.
Driving back to Los Angeles, I felt grateful for the moment, and I felt deep appreciation for the person who joined me on this journey. Brandon will never fully understand what it means to me when he chooses to step out of his norm and join me in the great outdoors. This shared space provides kinship and memories I will always hold dear.
Be good to each other,
Nathan
As a member of the factory, you are taking a stand for human powered creation.
