Bristlecone Pines

7 July

I wasn't sure what Mary wanted to do today; it was a spontaneous day. We got into town at 11am after a lazy morning, but then she wanted me to go off-road around the foothills, without a map to guide her. She had never been in this area and didn't bring a map.

Before we reached the official town limits of Big Pine, Mary told me to pull off-road on a dirt road and that is what we did. For two hours we drove around sandy roads in the foothills, on roads better suited for ATVers than Ford Escapes. Most roads were not marked, but we stayed on what looked like the busier roads following a general southern direction. Some smaller canyons emptied here with lush green cottonwoods and other water-loving trees, but where we were it was hot and dry.

I enjoyed the adventure but most roads ended up in dead-ends, and it was time to see real stuff. I didn't want to be in this isolated place and have truck trouble, or encounter a rattlesnake. We never saw other people until two hours later, when two men in a full-sized pick-up pointed to the road that would get us back to US Highway 395.

In the afternoon Mary suggested to see the Bristlecone Forest 24 miles east, so off I drove. I had been here before and knew my way and it is a pretty drive. These White Mountains are quite a contrast to the taller and wetter Sierras to the west. I was intrigued with this place the last time I was here, but didn't stay long due to time restraints (I was on the return drive to Arizona after finishing the John Muir Trail).

Today, though, we did it all. We arrived at the small visitor's center for information. The original visitor's center was burned in a forest fire in 2008. Two rangers work out of a single-wide trailer that also houses the small gift/bookstore. I bought the annual National Parks Pass, chatted with the young rangers and then decided to hike the 4.5-mile Methuselah trail, on which the oldest recorded living thing is. The Methuselah tree, which is over 4900 years old now, remains anonymous due to previous sabotage by hikers. We saw several trees we wondered about, but never located ~the~ tree.

The Methuselah trail is a pretty loop hike, even prettier and shadier in the afternoon shade, that meanders around an elevation of 9000-10,000 feet. It starts and finishes at the visitor's center. The elevation kicked my butt! It took us three hours to complete this hike. And although dogs should be leashed, the few hikers we encountered did not make putting Sadie on a leash a requirement for me. She stayed right by my side. The elevation had affected her, too.

There was another couple from Ventura that we kept running into, but generally we were on our own. The vistas from the Bristlecone Forest are mostly toward the east. Distant fertile crop circles can be seen in the valley, but up close the terrain looks very barren. Some of the trees have mystical-looking branches on them that give them photogenic qualities (especially against a dark sky!). Our many stops to photograph trees slowed us down even more. Mary is as prolific a photographer as I am, and she takes good photos, too.

It was after 5:30pm when we got back to the truck. The visitor's center was closed and only a few cars remained. It was also remarkably colder now that the sun was easing low over the western horizon.

"Let's go drive down the dirt road to Patriach's Grove!" suggested Mary, and I obliged. This was a fun drive over a generally well-graded dirt road wide enough for two cars to pass. I couldn't drive the posted 25mph speedlimit because I was constantly being told to "Stop here!" so that Mary could photograph scenes. The scenes were truly beautiful and I was photographing them, too. The high meadows were turning dark green while mountain sides were turning purple and peaks were glowing in reds and oranges. It was, as John Muir said, a "Range of Lights." Having few drivers around us made this experience all the more enjoyable.

"Absolutely gorgeous!" Mary would say, something I'd hear the rest of my time with her.

What we didn't know is that once we got to the Grove 12 miles away, the last mile of the road was closed due a snowslide. People were forced to park at a make-shift parking lot near the road's interesection with the main road. It was another four miles to "End of the Road" and with sunset approaching fast, I suggested we go there.

There were more dramatic and sudden color changes. We made it to the gate just in time and saw the last of the sun set over the Sierras. The view wasn't as spectacular as I had expected (most likely because we were a tad late) but once here and standing at just below 12,000-feet, it was cold. Sadie pranched around with new energy, Mary chatted with what looked like a well-wrapped distance runner/hiker spending the night at the trailhead parking lot for an early ascent the next day.

By now I was invigorated. The hike and the elevation had "lifted" my senses, and although I was cold, I was feeling reborn. Mary was, too, but now it was dark and we still had quite a drive down the dark mountain and into town. The three-feet snowbanks along part of the road now appeared golden in the truck's headlights. For a day that started with no plan, it ended very satisfying.