Not Your Average Tree Hugger
Nothing is more life altering then moving from one coast to the other. The preverbal, āThe grass is greener on the other sideā does not seem clichĆ©, but fact and refreshingly accurate. I remember that fateful day, my first hike in the bay area (Insert dramatic music here). I had planned this day hike with my friend weeks ago and even though I was a little hung over I was determined to finally experience the day we had put off for so long.
My heart raced as the road got uncomfortably narrow. We continued relentlessly up a road that curved so dramatically, one cannot drive faster then 30 miles an hour (if that) for fear of flying off the side of the cliff. And if another car came in the opposite direction? Forget it. I had my eyes squeezed shut and what I came to learn was that if one person pulled over as far to the right as possible and stopped, the other car could squeeze by. We finally made it to the trailhead of the infamous Berry Creek Falls Loop and I sat, mouth gaping, at the massive redwoods. They stood majestically in all their glory, as if to say, āHere I am, yes Iām worth it.ā And in that one minuscule point in time, I could feel my heart swell with emotion.
Now usually when someone says, emotion or emotional, that usually means they started crying. I however, donāt mean I started weeping at the sight of these trees. Iām not THAT big of a nature lover. Rainbows donāt make me āemotionalā. It was the emotion of realizing how small you can be next to something that is and has been growing for centuries. We are so unimportant to these trees, yet the stupidity of humanity could have, and almost, wiped them from existence. But these trees have been here. Theyāve seen civilizations rise and fall, wars, countries declaring freedom and almost all of human history. Some of the trees at Big Basin State Park have been around for thousands of years living and enduring everything. Outlasting millions of humans. Yet we, in our small amount of time on this earth have utterly almost destroyed it. Like pouring ketchup on a porterhouse steak, while standing under these trees, its almost blasphemy what weāve done to this earth. And while on the 14 mile trek, I canāt help but wonder what Iād missed, if years from now, these treeās would be gone, and pity for the people who could not experience them.
Ā I say this next statement with more certainty then anything I have ever believed in; everyone needs to see these trees at least once before they die. Pictures do no justice. Big Basin is a new world. Here in this forest, everything falls away. We could have been in 2011 or 1811, Iām sure the forest looked the same. This park is timeless and enchanted. The greens so deep, the redwoods burnt red, and the earth a rich brown. Everything teems with life and wonder. The ironic and funny part about all of this, humans vs. nature, no matter how much technology we have, how much glitter and shine, lights and height we put into booming cities that we create, it could never touch the majesty and power that a single redwood has. In that moment, standing under the redwoods, I sucked in my breath and held it. Lifting my head to looking up so high that I almost fell backwards, I stared and stared. Vegas has never taken my breath away. In that moment I became Lewis. I became Clark, John Muir and Ansell Adams. I reached out and touched a tree that made my hand look like a speck against its massive trunk. I now understand.
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