Reflections on a solitary hike.

Its not often a city woman gets to take a solitary hike up at the treeline, at around 10,000 ft. Yesterday I had my chance. It was an incredible experience. I decided to just hike by myself and not worry about anything. That was the first thing.

For some unknown reason, I have always wanted to see bristlecone pine trees up close in their natural habitat. I'm intrigued by their great age, durability, and their life in in the most adverse circumstances up at the treeline, above which nothing grows. I was delighted to discover that Great Basin National Park boasted of a grove of trees that one could hike to with relative ease.*Relative* ease; at 10,000 feet I was a little concerned about altitude sickness.  I quickly realized I couldn't just light out on the trail at my usual pace, but a more judicious, stately pace and I was just fine. After awhile I forgot about it and just walked.

 
The trail. At this rate the hiking boots aren't going to last long.

Mount Wheeler. You can see where the treeline ends. The rest is just rocks.

See what I mean, lots of rocks. It was hard for this rockhound to pass some of them up, but remembering the elevation and the limited carrying capacity of my RV, I thought it wise.

This tree, 3200 years old, made me feel like I felt when I visited Palestine/Israel earlier this year.

When you touch the wood of this tree, it feels incredibly dense. If you rap on it with your knuckles, its like rapping on a rock.

At the urging of another hiker, I detoured on the way back down to see Lake Teresa, this little gem.

Bonus: the aspen were putting on their fall show. My poor pixels couldn't capture how luminous the leaves are. I guess they get thin, and then the sun shines through them like stained glass.

I am trying to capture in words just what these sights and sounds, oh yes, I haven't even talked about the lovely quiet forest breeze silent-sounds, occasionally interrupted by the loud rush of a gust of wind. (In addition to needing a photographer, I need a sound engineer.) I'd love to have an hour long recording of just these forest sounds, that I could play when needed, or give to my friends.

I'm beginning to realize in a visceral and intuitive way that I, we, are intimately a part of nature. We do not stand apart from nature, in its wild richness. I am looking for opportunities in this time of my journey, to find that connection between who I am and the natural world. Being that city woman, my connection to the wild and natural world has become tenuous at best. This hike gave me great hope that the connection is still there, still accessible, and still important.