The sun had been up for a bit but the early March air was cold enough to bite at my skin. I was grateful for the layers I had to protect me from the breeze as my party and I were greeted by a tall, grinning man. Paul Bischoff introduced himself with confidence and cordiality. While I’ve ventured through the Sequoias before, I was eager to see the park with an educated guide who was able to boast nearly a quarter of a century of experience.
Ten people piled into his tour van comfortably with room to spare for a cooler filled with what would be much needed water. I felt like a giddy kid again while our guide rolled the van along the road as though it were his backyard, pointing out scientific tidbits over his speaker. Naturally, Paul made our first stop at the first giant sequoia tree in sight. It was an ideal introduction considering people can see the neighboring white pines all over the West Coast, but the towering giant sequoias (unique to the Sierra Nevada of California) were the main attraction. We were given time to oogle and gawk as people would at the sight of Godzilla-trees while being fed details on the history of Sequoia National Park and the unique qualities - including the necessity of low-intensity fires.
Paul called, “You guys all know Smokey the Bear?” As though it was conditioned I blurted out, “Only YOU can prevent forest fires!” “Yes and no," he continued. "Smokey doesn’t want YOUR fires, he wants OUR fires. We used to call it ‘controlled fires,’ but now we call it, ‘prescribed fires.’ Since they kept getting out of control.” Smokey lied to me.
On we went, rolling through the woods, through the Tunnel Log, and to Moro Rock. Sequoia Park’s biggest granite semi-dome monolith had a 400-step stairway carved into it in 1931, making the climb a brisk one. I couldn’t help but feel envious of the people talented enough to physically climb the west side of the rock as we all hopped along up man-made stairs. We were lucky enough to have the prized view from the top to ourselves since we departed early enough, off-season, and on a weekday (as of 2012, the road to the rock closes on weekends - only accessible via shuttle or by foot).
I chatted with Paul, reminiscing of the times my family and I drove through the parks for picnics and hiking - or as John Muir called it: sauntering. Though, it seemed I was seeing the same sights over and over in spite of the vastness of our parks. He remarked it wasn’t uncommon, “There’s a saying that 99-percent of visitors see 1-percent of what’s available and the other 1-percent see the 99-percent everyone else is missing out on.” “So how do I explore that 99-percent?” He gestured all around, from the dense Crescent Meadow to the Great Western Divide (the San Joaquin Valley was sadly clouded with pollution), “See all this?” “Yeah?” “Start walking.”
Seemed simple enough. That was what John Muir did, and Hale Tharp before him, and the Kawaiisu, Maidu, Miwok, Mono, and Washoe peoples before him.I wondered how many more visitors would be inspired to be that 1-percent to explore the 99-percent of the park and more. The view of the High Sierra convinced me to return - preferably during spring when the hippies and vagabonds were known to party it up on the campgrounds.
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