dancingthroughchaos

We simply need the wild country available to us, even if we never do more than drive to its edge and look in.  For it can be a means of reassuring ourselves of our sanity as creatures, a part of the geography of hope. – Wallace Stegner, 1960

We recently spent a happy day in the Sequoia National Park in California, among the giant redwood trees, known locally as sequoias. 

I remember reading about these trees in one of those 1950s Ladybird books that occupied our childhood bookshelf.  It’s the only  coloured illustration that has stayed with me, so the opportunity to see the real thing was one to be seized.

It’s hard to describe the scale and majesty of these incredible giants. After reading leaflets and information boards, we absorbed a raft of trivia about them which it would be remiss of me not to share here.

The biggest redwood (and tree) in the world is the General Sherman (below); it’s 275 feet tall, 36.3 feet wide, and almost 2,000 years old. 

I can’t remember the estimated volume of this Goliath of a tree, but one printed notice claimed that if it was filled with water it would provide enough for a daily bath for twenty-seven years (depending, presumably, on how deep you like your soak in the tub).

The second biggest (although the notice says the third; one must have died or toppled) is the General Grant at 268 feet tall, and 40 foot wide at the base.  Although it carries a scar from a fire, it’s slowly healing itself. 

Some are reckoned to be almost 3,000 years old with bark that’s almost 2 feet thick.  It’s the tannin in the spongy bark that gives them their distinct red colour, and also serves as a protection against fire.  Cleverly, as they grow, redwoods shed their lower branches which means they reduce their chance of being within range of fire and can concentrate on reaching above the surrounding trees to the sunlight. 

The towering sequoia standing by the museum, named The Sentinel, is reckoned to weigh as much as ten blue whales, and if laid out on the ground would reach from one end of an American football field to the other.

What you do with this valuable information is of course, entirely up to you, but for now, just feast your eyes on a couple of the hundred or so photographs I took, and be amazed:

If you ever get the chance to see them in person – rather than simply look over ‘the edge’, as the quote suggests you do – know that the sense of wonder, and even worship, that they may ignite can be multiplied by at least ten.

I had not come across Wallace Stegner before, but will be looking out for his work.  This American writer and conservationist captured an important truth when he reminded us that nature gives us a sense of proportion as well as an anchor to sanity when the world around us seems to have gone mad.  Here in the United States, there appears to be increasing disunity (as there is in the less-than-United Kingdom), as election fever begins in earnest, with the two opposing parties apparently more polarised than ever.  Just this week election results in Zimbabwe have been declared and Mr Mnangagwa is set for another term in spite of all the protests and queries raised about the credibility of the election, and a sense of hopelessness among many sections of the weary populace.  Back in the UK, politics sounds increasingly murky and the headlines on my newsfeed are bleak.  Some days we all feel that sanity has packed up and left.

A little reassurance might go a long way, although it will take more than the Rugby World Cup to distract us from the realities of a global cost of living crisis.  Gong for a walk won’t change these things either, but to be part of ‘the geography of hope’ as we breathe in the beauty of our broken world may not only be good for our mental health, but for our struggling communities.  Even if you can only ‘drive to the edge and look in’, I think it will be worth the trip.

 

If you want to explore more, check out this website: https://www.nps.gov/seki/index.htm