“My favorite Earthly invention changes often. In Mongolian outhouses, I venerated modern plumbing. In Alaskan swamps, I thought bug spray might’ve been divinely inspired. But there comes a point in every desert nomad’s life where all of history without an air conditioner is acutely pitied.” – Old Sean
Scorch Realm
After leaving Vegas and camping out in the desert the following night, Ari and I prepared to continue driving West, waking up early to blink sudden sunlight out of our eyes.
The next part of the trip was very much onward and very much upward.
But first, we were treated to California’s Death Valley. Blistering heat bleached out all color from the surrounding area. The desert scrub hunkered closer to the ground than ever.
When we go out to mine in a dry riverbed, the sun was still blissfully low, but seared us across flat, crusty ground. Enormous bugs circled us with a maddening drone and when we hiked back to the car a mere 20 minutes later, we were both spent from the slight walk.
Driving through the Death Valley was predictable. It was hot, long, poorly paved, lots of speed and radar warnings, very little company and ridiculous in-you-eyes light at every moment.
When we finally made it back to a major highway, I briefly drove us past the Calico Ghost Town before getting back on the road.
Rising Lands
Finally, the landscape began to shift and we made our way up to one of my trip highlights. Sequoia National Park.
Sequoia and King’s Canyon are two separate national parks that are jointly managed, meaning a single $35 dollar fee grants access to both of them. The drive up is a challenge in elevation, with vehicles endlessly snaking up sharply winding roads.
We gradually continued the climb, somewhat shocked at the sheer tonnage of other tourists at riverside attractions or simply driving the scenic route.
Regardless, the climb became gradually more scenic until we finally breached the crest and ridgeline and a behemoth rose from the narrow foliage to greet us.
Sequoia trees, while not the tallest in the world, have the greatest tonnage of any plant on the planet. Their trunks take minutes to encircle, and they’re so comically large, they look like something made of concrete and rebar in a zoo rather than an actual biological organism.
Their root systems are vast, spreading across the surface, anchoring them to mountain crests. But ironically, the network isn’t deep and food treads can erode them enough to topple giants.
Tree Seekers
We wound our way through the Giant’s Forest and visited General Sherman, the largest tree on the planet. The woods composed of other species of pines were likewise impressive and stalwart. They simply paled in comparison to the majesty of the sequoias.
Ragged from the altitude change, Ari and I strove along the trails to find a campsite. The vast majority were full and closed, but dispersed camping is allowed in a few places in the park.
The true struggle was calculating time and distance. When hearing that our targeted campground was only 17 miles away, we had to factor in all the curves, hills, speed-dips and confusion, meaning this small trip was over an hour and a half long.
There was much to see on this trip, including bold deer in parking lots, great meadows sheltered by mountains and woods, crystalline streams cutting downhill and great moss patched blanketing boulders dripped from cliff-faces.
Back to Camping
We eventually stopped at Horse Trail Camp, where we watched the sunset and waited for the Milky Way to Appear. And yes, that deserves a capital introduction. With light pollution stifled on every side, this was the most impressive sky I’ve seen on this trip. While the flies and mosquitoes were a problem, we had a fairly comfortable night, especially once inside the tent.
However, the next morning, our energy bottomed out. Another alteration in altitude had hit us hard. After browsing a few features of King’s Canyon, we decided to permanently descend until our internal pressure leveled out.
We drove towards the coast, thundering down from the mountains and into California’s endless, splayed-finger-shaped hills.
On my previous visit, these hills were a lush green with rainbows cresting the horizon with a near-impossible frequency. However, in the dead of summer, this land was toasted to gold. All the grass was a sunny, extremely-flammable glistening yellow, which stretched over every hilltop, field and pasture.
Only squat, dark trees broke this tinder-field visage. Often, we passed warning signs describing fire safety and issuing flame warnings with religious fervor.
Soon, we’ll be reaching the coast, where I’ll be meeting an old and wonderful friend.
So until then,
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 27th, 2020
Read more about visiting Sequoia National Forest and seeing the world by visiting Leftfade Trails Destination Info.
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I bought this Horizon Hound Trek Blanket for a late-autumn trek in the United States. Since then, it’s gone everywhere with me. The blanket is lightweight, stuff-able, warm and durable. But my favorite features are the buttons. The blanket can be buttoned up the sides, turning it into a long thermal poncho when I don’t want to leave the warmth of my bed.
