Road: People are People

Art Journal, The Road

People are people no matter where you go. The good, the bad, the entitled, the desperate. Kurt and I were just talking about people. Last year we went to Sequoia National Park to stand among the giants. The thing that stood out immediately for me was the fencing around each of the old towers. I imagined hugging, touching, smelling, communing with one of the old giants. That’s exactly what I shouldn’t do.
They have hardly any root structure for their size and no taproot. In an attempt to preserve the trees from the trampling feet of millions of visitors they erected low fences and dismissible signage. Kurt and I sat there on a bench marveling at the impossibility of such life, when the French kids showed up.
I always thought it was Americans who behaved entitled everywhere they went. That’s the trope at least. I was pained watching them clamber around the base of the tree for inane selfies. Heartbreaking for the tree, how many years of this stress could it ultimately take before going down? That’s when another (I’m assuming middle-eastern by accent) gentleman chastised the French kids.
Tonight we were visiting the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. At between 9,500 – 10,500 ft in elevation I really took it easy on the trail. I’m neither fit or at all used to high altitudes. It went ok. I had a brief, mild headache and started feeling dizzy for a little while. I took a lot of breaks and happy dance I didn’t die. Bonus I walked among trees that could pre-date Caesar. Older than the fall of Rome. Older than Shakespeare. Some of the dead ones (they don’t rot very well) could go as far back as 10,000 years. Before pyramids. Before the rise and fall of the Greek City States. Some of the trees seen today could outlive us by hundreds of years, thousands.

They varied from twisted gnarled forms to shooting straight for the sky. Many of the Pines were missing all or part of their bark, yet remained alive. Their needles surprisingly soft. The bark-less wood solid and ungiving.
It seemed we had the place to ourselves, then stumbled upon a couple men set up off trail to photograph one of the more famous trees. There was signage all around asking people to stay on trail. Protect the trees that are thousands of years old, from us.
The men, middle-aged, dark in complexion and speaking another language than English, were unfazed by my husband’s emotional outburst while pointing to the signage. They continued to speak to each other in their language. Kurt walked off, while I stayed to try to get some photos. It slowly dawned on me these men were as awful as my husband believed. I wanted to say they were trying for the best angle, but afterwards I realized it wasn’t. There were many, many amazing angles to explore with the camera without going off trail.


Then no matter what I was trying they made no effort to move out of the frame. No offer to move unused gear. They continued to chat. Then one sentence of English looking at the sky “it’s too dark.” That was for my benefit out there photographing without a tripod (I find them stifling and unnecessary).
Usually the people we meet are interesting. Nice. In this case not so much. Often it’s at more popular locations with Instagrammers we’ve seen the worst behavior from people. Garbage strewn sites like Cadillac Ranch. People wrecking delicate ecology in the deserts. Carving their names into saguaros and sequoias.
Me? I went up there to taste a piece of time for myself. Worship at a cathedral of ancients. Possess the essence of the forest through its textures and details, not just capture the most photographed tree. That was icing.

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