Big trees

I’m walking across the stump of a giant Sequoia and it feels like sacrilege. Here, in Calaveras Big Trees State Park, that appears to be the point. This tree was cut down years ago, taken as a trophy of achievement – man conquering the wilderness.

Like shooting a herd of bison, or punching a hole in the ozone layer. We did it, therefore, we exist.

Mark Twain made a jumping frog of Calaveras County famous. But I’ve leapfrogged over Angel's Camp, past the goldrush towns of Murphys and Arnold, and headed over the rise to the big trees.

Up, up and up to the 4,000-foot level where the redwoods and sequoias live among the dogwoods and sugar pines. It’s high enough to call these mountains instead of foothills, especially when we come to an overlook that displays the vastness of the Sierra Nevada.

We’re walking along the north end of the park where a number of well-maintained trails lead us through the forest. As the name of the park indicates, this is about the big trees.

I look up. And up. And up. Beautiful redwoods, their bark soft and thick, draw my eye. I can’t help but reach out my hand to touch. But it’s the giant Sequoias that command the scene, towering over the forest, each branch as big as an oak tree. No wonder; they’ve been here for more than a thousand years.

Like everyone must do as they walk along this trail, I wondered at how the world had changed during the lifetime of these trees. It's a meditative walk.