The Importance of Color

6/7/2018

A stiff hot breeze whipped at my tent at dawn, waking me with a dusting of ancient lake mud and sand that seemed reluctant to come off once it had adhered to my face. Nice – free sunscreen! You’ve got to make the best of things sometimes.

I popped out of my tent as the wind started moving things across my campsite, and surveyed the place where I had set myself down last night. Yep, still a spectacular scrubby wasteland framed by looming white cliffs with not a soul in sight. While the sky still retained a bit of the clear blue brought on by shifting winds in the night, haze was rapidly filling the valley as the heat climbed and smoke from nearby fires wafted in. It was then that I really started to appreciate the importance of deep, vibrant colors. When you spend a lot of time in the desert – even among the incredible red rock formations found in the Valley of Fire – things start to feel a little washed out. Maybe it’s a kind of fatigue brought on by endless squinting and trying to differentiate yellows and oranges and beiges. Maybe my eyes are just better trained for dappled forests and dark lakes and shaded valleys.

Whatever the reason is, all I know is that Jane suddenly looked kind of different. Normally, the car’s a pretty bright blue in the sunlight. But against the backdrop of all of this gray and yellow, the blue adopted a luxurious rich deep tone that continually drew my eye as it soaked up the harsh sunlight. It’s kind of weird when you find yourself looking at your own car just because it’s easier on the eyes than the surrounding environment. I decided that maybe I was getting a little sun-addled, and maybe it was time to change things up and skedaddle.

I stopped first near the entrance of the park to see a few sights, including Turk’s Turban, the rock outcrop that had first made me want to visit the park. Disappointingly, Turk’s Turban is right on the side of the road. That’s really only disappointing because I tend to expect to have to work hard to find and photo the most spectacular views in a park. It’s odd to be able to just pop out of the car and snap the shot, though I suspect that many other people just find that convenient.

Anyways, here’s a shot of the coolest spot in the park, as taken from the side of the road:

A short trail a few miles in length starts at the adjacent parking lot, so I hopped on that and marched around the canyon for a bit. The stratigraphic relationship of the different lithologies to each other is pretty spectacular, even for a non-geologist. Rocks transition sharply from sandstone to mudstone to volcanic rubble and back again in a pleasingly orderly fashion. I was once more enthralled.

Also I liked this lizard's orange armpits.

Eventually I did move on, heading north towards Lake Isabella seeking a drastic change of scenery.

I passed the lake and continued north, wending my way up into the mountains. At first, plants remained scrubby, then gave way to browned evergreens. The first time I rounded a corner and came upon a stand of healthy aspen trees was pure bliss.

Sure, you’re probably thinking that it’s a little dramatic to be saying that. But when you’ve spent a lot of time staring at light yellows and oranges and reds, a deep bright green is really a beautiful thing. It’s even better when it is accompanied by a significant drop in temperature that finally allows you to stop sweating for the first time in days. It really does sooth the soul (and probably soothes your tired eyes as well).

I entered Sequoia National Forest shortly, and headed to the Trail of 100 Giants. My selected campsite for the night was further north in the forest, almost up towards Sequoia National Park, which I visited last year. But I wanted to see this trail of sequoias first.

Though the sequoias here were very large, they were small in comparison to those that I remembered from the park to the north. It’s strange, how perspective can diminish something that would have once seriously impressed you. As it was, I was impressed but not overawed, I guess. There were some really great trees on the trail, and they had taken quite a long time to grow, after all. But as far as sequoias go, these were on the smaller end.

Pictured: "the smaller end" of sequoias. Normal sized tree for scale.

A large downed sequoia.

View from the top of the large downed sequoia, with human being for scale on the left.

This tree had a really interesting top - it looks like it has a stand of aspen trees growing at its crown!

Close up of the "aspen tree grove" at the top of the tree.

 Regardless, I had a lovely time walking the trail, simply enjoying being in a forest again. As afternoon rolled on I moved up to my campsite and took off on another trail nearby that featured clumps of late wildflowers and interesting mushrooms.

And whatever this thing is.

The wildflowers should have been my biggest clue. Everywhere else, wildflowers are dead and gone, withered by the summer heat. Their continued presence here should have told me how cool the temperatures really were up here, and that I was actually at quite a high elevation. But I was walking, so I stayed warm and didn’t notice.

That is, until night fell. Then, suddenly, it was 40 degrees and I was FREEZING! I hadn’t expected to be camping anywhere cold during this heat wave, so I hadn’t brought my normal blankets along on the trip. I just had my sleeping bag and no warm clothes to speak of to bundle up in for the night. But necessity is the mother of invention, and I really don’t like being cold. Enter the fender grippers.

For those who are less automotively inclined, fender grippers are foam covers (a similar material to yoga mats, actually) that are placed over the fenders of a car to avoid scratching the paint while a mechanic is working in the engine bay. I carry them with me on trips for that purpose, but also because they are a nice black color and they lay well on top of my other gear in the back seat, preventing glare issues in the rearview mirror. And now I had discovered a new use for them: nice snuggly blankets.

I slept snug as a bug that night, tent cinched down to keep out the cold and sleeping bag piled with repurposed automotive bits. I did later find out that the campsite I had picked was at 7000 foot elevation, and well-known for being breezy and a bit nippy. Ah, well. It was a really nice change of pace anyways.

Kelly signing out.