Weeks 39-42: Big Trees, Big Mountains, Big Post

Author’s Note

Dear Reader,

Before we finally get into the last of our adventures in California, I have some news to share.

It may come as no surprise, but Sam and I have finally ended our Gap Year! These past few weeks home have flown by in a blur of work, from cleaning up to catching up on a year’s worth of stuff. As much as I would love to take this moment to talk more about the end and what that means for the two of us, there’s still a teensy bit of work to do on the blog first.

There are only a few more posts until we reach the very end. As we write about our experiences for the first time outside of the Gap Year, I’m excited to relive the dog days of this incredible experience with you.

Thank you for sticking around,

Kes the Photobean

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Reunited

July 22nd, 2022

by Kes the Photobean

We didn’t have much time after stepping off the ferry that brought us back from the Channel Islands. The only stop we took was to refuel at Sam’s cherished In-n-Out before jumping back onto the road, our sights already set on the next park. Under normal circumstances, we would linger a little longer, maybe take a day or two to meander towards the mountains. Today, however, was not a normal day.

Not long before leaving for the Channel Islands, a friend of ours called and asked to meet up somewhere in California. For Sam and I, his gung-ho approach to making plans with us was hard to deny. Of course we’d meet up with you again, Josh!

Little did we know that Josh was going to be the first and last friend that we met up with during our Gap Year.

Way back in the beginning of the year we picked up our very first hitchhiker. Our time in Florida together was an insane amount of fun, but it’s hard to believe that the next time seeing Josh would be all the way on the other side of the country!

We pulled up into our campsite at midnight, right next to a dark Subaru. Sam and I tried setting up camp as quietly as possible so as to not wake up the sleeping Josh inside. Despite our best efforts, a blonde head poked out of an opened car door, smiling wildly.

I’d say it was a fantastic reunion.

There were smiles abound during our first morning.

Our time with Josh is always well spent. From seeking the best swimming holes to hiking through layers of ash to see ancient sequoia groves, there was never a dull moment. Whenever we came back to camp after a full day of adventuring, we ate like royalty and played games like kids. As night fell, we all eventually crawled into the Teardrop, watching movies all squished together. My only regret was the lack of popcorn.

We saw a lot of big trees together.

And hiked a lot of miles.

We found the perfect swimming holes.

And watched a lot of stuff together in the Teardrop.

Of course, I can’t talk about our time with Josh without mentioning what exactly we did at these national parks, but I wanted to highlight how appreciated this visit was.

You see, traveling across the country in a year has been a blur of novelty. New towns, new vistas, new people around every corner. It’s all very exciting. But like everything else in life, we eventually get used to it. The days end faster and faster because, in a really weird way, these new things are a part of our routine. That’s why having a familiar someone to share in these new experiences is so special. They remind me to drink in every moment and step outside of this routine just enough to appreciate where I am.

So, with that, I want to thank you, Josh, and everyone else who has taken the time to visit us on the road. Sure, we could have done this without you, but y’all made the trip so much better for being in it.

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Sequoia National Park, California

July 22nd, 2022

by Kes the Photobean

As the United States’ second national park, Sequoia has always been a place of natural wonder. After all, the world’s largest trees are nothing to scoff at. Some of the oldest sequoias have trunk diameters that could easily fit several cars inside. Even when they fall and lay on the forest floor, their massive logs tower over any human passerby.

There are many stories I could share about the history of these giant Sequoias. After all, they are among some of the oldest living things in the world, bearing witness to the intricacies of the human experience. However, today I’d prefer to focus on a topic that hits a little closer to home: wildfires.

A brown burn scar stands out in the distance.

Growing up in dry New Mexico, wildfires are a normal part of life. Even in years where fire has yet to start, the threat of the next big fire always seems to loom over our heads. Yet, despite the terror that these infernos give us, countless ecosystems actually rely on low- to medium-severity fires to stay healthy. The Jemez mountains in my backyard and Giant Sequoia groves in the Sierras share this need for healthy fires.

Both Coastal Redwoods and Giant Sequoias use wildfires as a part of their lifecycle; mature trees drop sticky, seed-filled cones that can only be opened in hot fires. Once the cones pop open, thousands of seeds burst onto the smoldering forest floor.

But the importance of fire doesn’t stop there.

Understory fires that burn hot enough to open Redwood cones will also eliminate any competing plant species while returning much-needed nutrients to the soil. This gives Redwood seedlings the best chance of survival. Given enough time, the handful of seedlings that emerge may grow into mature adults which then drop their own cones. The circle of life, complete.

Cones of the Giant Sequoia look miniscule in comparison to the gargantuan adults.

Unfortunately, allowing natural fires to propagate and extinguish on their own becomes a lot more complicated when settlers enter the equation. Drawn to the numerous resources that forests bring, settlers often built their cities and homes in the middle of ecosystems prone to wildfire. Combine this with various other factors, such as dry summers, combustion engines, and lightning, and you get the perfect conditions for the mass destruction of human life. The Peshtigo Fire of 1871 and the Great Fire of 1910 were perfect examples of this. The Great Fire of 1910 is still the single largest wildfire in U.S. history and set the stage for the Forest Service to enact strict fire suppression procedures. As a result, the United States spent over a century seeing every fire as intolerable, forcing forests to become dense and unhealthy.

To put this into perspective, I’ll retell something I read in the Sequoia National Park museum: “For a century fire was completely suppressed here. No Sequoia seedlings grew in the Giant Forest . . .” No seedlings, no new trees. For 100 years. Alas, that wasn’t the only unforeseen consequence of fire suppression.

As I mentioned earlier, fire can clear the understory of forest debris, allowing space and nutrients for new growth. However, without fire the forest floor becomes choked. Pair that with an ever-worsening drought, and the dry forest litter becomes perfect fuel for unnaturally hot fires.

Sadly, this is exactly what happened to this part of the Sierras during the 2020-2021 fire season. During these two years, three fires alone killed an estimated 9,761 to 14,237 large Giant Sequoias. That’s 13-19% of the world’s Giant Sequoias, killed in a process that should normally give life, not take it away.

It’s hard not to feel heartbroken when learning about these megafires. So many big trees like this one gone . . .

This is the NPS panel where I got those statistics.

In the face of such widespread tragedy, hopelessness begins to set in. After all, how can anyone try and right the wrongs that have been centuries in the making? How can anyone see these massive burn scars and still have hope that we can undo what has already been done?

Thankfully, my time in Sequoia National Park has taught me a lesson in resilience.

Sam, Josh, and I hiked through a patch of recently burned forest in order to reach a lesser known Sequoia grove. Many of the trees around us had blackened bases reaching higher than we were tall. Some trees were merely charred toothpicks, while others appeared no worse for wear. The understory was thick with burnt needles, coating my legs in a film of ash.

A small creek cut through the middle of our trail, bringing forth a green wave of life. It was hard to see the burn scars from here.

After miles of laughter and deep thought, we finally made it to the grove. Far away from the paved paths close to the visitor center, we found ourselves alone with these titans. Eventually the trail disappeared underneath a thick layer of ash, giving us the chance to wander on our own.

Many trees stood in full defiance of death, tall and towering despite the thick black scars climbing up their trunks. A few trees weren’t so lucky, bearing the marks of a crown on fire. Upon seeing these shadows of royalty, my heart began to sink. Are these fallen behemoths a sign of what’s to come? Before I could spiral into despair any further, I looked down at my feet.

Poking up from between the pine needles and charcoal were hundreds upon thousands of tiny Sequoia seedlings. My eyes widened and scoured the ground for more. Clusters of baby trees were everywhere, popping up from the soil like ghosts of another age. It’s as if each cone were a grenade, releasing an explosion of life upon the forest floor.

In an instant my sadness melted away. A profound sense of wonder took its place, filling my chest with a complex mix of emotions. After a century of no new Sequoia seedlings, I was standing in the middle of a nursery.

This moment was a stark reminder that life cannot exist without death. No matter how much we humans want to deny it, death is as natural as life itself; to refuse the end is to stop the beginning.

As we left the grove, I couldn’t stop thinking about those little seedlings. How many will survive to be adults? How rare of a sight was this? Did I step on one? One thing I know for certain is that none of those baby titans would be there without wildfire.

When talking about Sequoia National Park, I wanted to focus on this story because we live in a time where wildfires are growing hotter and more frequent. Ecosystems will need to adapt, and so will we. And the first step in our adaptation should be to pay attention to the lessons Mother Nature gives us.

If we practice looking for the seedlings in the ashes, we will eventually find hope. And hope is a powerful thing.

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Kings Canyon National Park,

California

July 24th, 2022

by Kes the Photobean

The end of our days often looked like this as we washed off the grime from earlier hikes.

I like to think of Kings Canyon as California’s version of the Grand Canyon. Carved by both rivers and Ice Age glaciers, this park is home to a true Sierra Nevada gem.

I spent our drive into the park with my head down and focused on my hands; I was mending one of the two shorts I owned in order to avoid wearing long pants in the summer heat. After spending the past couple of days in the backseat, I thought I was prepared for Josh’s crazy driving.

At first everything was going alright. We were listening to an early morning podcast, and I enjoyed the distraction as I tried to figure out how the heck to sew. I was fumbling my way towards a half-decent stitch when Josh took the first turn. My body could feel the downhill acceleration and swayed with each fast turn. Despite the car sickness churning in my gut, my eyes were glued to the needle. No matter how bad that feeling was, I knew the scene outside the car would be worse.

It wouldn’t be until we drove out of Kings Canyon that I wished I had more to sew.

Our hike for the day was in search of the next amazing swimming hole.

The journey was far from easy, though. Up and up and up the trail went.

Although the hike to this beautiful fall was only three or four miles, the sheer amount of sweat on my body made it feel like we had just hiked twice that. Upon seeing the crystal clear pools for the first time, I sighed a breath of relief.

Why haven’t we been doing more hikes to sunbathing destinations?

We spent a couple hours alternating between jumping into the ice cold water and laying on the hot boulders.

After lazing around, we decided that we wanted to go just a little further on the trail. This is about how far we got up the canyon walls before turning back.

Any semblance of clean skin from the pools was erased during this vertical hike.

Thankfully we found another swimming hole just as the trail turned flat again. Maybe this time we’ll stay clean.

It was hard tearing Sam away from the water. He’s like a little salamander who can’t stay away.

When we finally left the park, I didn’t have any distractions from the drive ahead. Of course on the way down I looked up every once in a while, but clearly I did a horrible job because I had no idea just how terrifying this road was.

Sheer cliff walls drop a thousand feet down into the shallow river below. The two-lane road is separated from the abyss by a puny guardrail. In light of the possibility of death, Josh’s driving only got crazier. I swear the man didn’t even slow down during the hairpin turns. Worse yet, Josh kept mentioning that his brake pads were worn down and should have been replaced a while ago . . . he just never got around to it.

Even Sam wasn’t entirely relaxed. Although that was reassuring at first - I'm not crazy! - it only made the anxiety in my belly spike. If Sam was spooked by this road, then we’re surely doomed. Josh on the other hand was positively peachy. At our exclamations of terror, he only laughed and said that this is how you drive if you actually want to get somewhere. To the bottom of the cliff, maybe, I thought to myself.

The second we left that road of doom, I felt myself relax. Slightly. Now if Josh kills us, at least it won’t be off a cliff. With the concept of death less imminent, my brain found another topic to focus on: sugar.

All day I wanted something sweet, probably because we’d been hiking long hikes every single day for the past week. My sweet tooth was begging for relief, and I came to terms with eating a candy bar at camp. My sights were set on something far sweeter, though, and I made Sam promise me that we’d buy some the next chance we got.

Slushies. Those sweet, sweet cups of pure sugar and ice. There’s nothing more in this world that I wanted at that moment than just a taste of that frozen nectar. As painful as it was to go without one, I spent a lot of time in the car daydreaming about the best flavor. Cherry? Pineapple? Mango Lime? Maybe something weird, like Grape? Eventually I had to stop because these dreams were way too torturous.

I had all but given up when all of a sudden, by some miracle, an oasis shimmered through the trees. A Christian summer camp, situated in what is essentially the middle of nowhere, shone with luxury. Outdoor cafeterias, countless watercraft, and hundreds of teenagers dotted this bizarre sight.

We decided to pop into the general store just to check it out, maybe buy some chocolate milk as a treat, when the holy sound of hallelujah rang in my ears. There she was, flocked by tweens battling a sugar high: the blessed slushie machine.

I’m not lying when I say a single tear threatened to fall down my cheek as I filled my cup. What a perfect end to the perfect day.

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Pre-Yosemite Jitters

July 28th, 2022

by Sam the Other Bean

After saying goodbye to Josh and parting ways, we went to see my Grandpa in nearby Fresno. My Mom also flew in for a visit, and while I didn’t take many pictures during the several days we were there, I definitely enjoyed our time together. Thanks for the great weekend, Grandpa and Barbara!

As Kes and I have become accustomed to during the Gap Year, it wasn't long before we were heading to our next destination. It felt as though the past few weeks in California had flown by without any hint of stopping. However, we still had two national parks to visit before our time in California could end.

First up was Yosemite.

I’m not going to lie, Yosemite is a national park that I’ve been afraid to visit since the beginning of the Gap Year. Trust me, it’s not just the crowds that put me on edge. No, this fear goes much deeper than just bumping into somebody on the trail.

You see, Yosemite is what I would consider an almost mythical level park. Neither Kes nor I had ever been, but it seemed as though everybody who had visited ended up worshiping Yosemite like it was the holy land itself. Long before my visit I had heard all about the most beautiful valley on Earth, all about the most epic slabs of granite known to man, and all about the most picturesque vistas you’ll ever see. And yet every time this conversation came up all I was actually hearing was “your experience needs to be like this or you're doing it wrong.”

Surprisingly I wasn’t afraid that my experience would fail to live up to those of my friends. To the contrary, I was afraid that my experience would go exactly as they described. That I would hike a trail that’s already been hiked a million times, to see a view that’s already been seen a million times, to have an experience that’s already been experienced by everybody before me. I was afraid that whatever I did would not be unique in any sense, and that even then I still might end up loving it.

It’s funny, I think our experience at Yosemite could easily be described by that fear. Did we do anything particularly unique during our visit? Of course not. But I believe that what we did do, we did in a way that was true to ourselves, and that’s the experience I’m excited to be sharing with you now.

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Yosemite National Park, California

July 28th, 2022

by Sam the Other Bean

If you’ve been reading the blog for a while, you may remember when Kes and I attempted to get a permit to hike The Wave. You may also remember that we failed to get that permit. Well, as it turns out, that was actually just one of many hiking permits we applied for during the Gap Year and failed to win. The most notable among these failed attempts (aside from The Wave) was a permit for Half Dome, which is arguably one of the most iconic hikes in America.

Lucky for us, our first application for Half Dome was during the preseason lottery, meaning that if we lost we could still apply for the daily lottery. The daily lottery runs a couple days before your planned hiking date, but if you fail to get a permit during this lottery you’re pretty much out of luck. The success rate of getting a permit in the daily lottery is actually higher than in the preseason lottery, but you pay for the higher chance, literally. Each application alone costs $10, not including the fees if you actually win. To increase our chances further, Kes and I would both be applying, raising that price to $20 a day.

While the price was steep, I was willing to pay it and try my luck as many times as needed to win at least one lottery during the Gap Year. I don’t think I ever have or ever will have this mindset again, but for Half Dome I was willing to throw as much money at the problem until it was no longer a problem. So a few days before our first day in Yosemite we sent off our first applications and crossed our fingers that we wouldn’t lose too much money to this rabbit hole.

So what exactly makes this hike so iconic? Well, there’s the simple fact that Half Dome is probably one of the most recognizable peaks on Earth. There really is nothing like it, at least that I’ve seen. I mean Half Dome literally looks like a giant bubble of granite that then broke perfectly in half, with one half staying in place, untouched, and the other half being swept away, never to be seen again.

The hike to Half Dome is also so iconic because, unlike many other peaks, there is pretty much only one way to the very top. If you want to summit, you’re going to have to take the cables. The cables take you up the last 400 feet to the peak of Half Dome. The catch? These last 400 feet are pretty much straight up. For most people the cables are the most memorable part of the hike and also the most difficult.

Though the cables section of the hike to Half Dome may be the most difficult, that’s not to say the rest of the hike is easy. The one way distance to the top of Half Dome is seven or eight miles, depending on where you park. That means that if you’re like most other people and do the hike in a single day, which Kes and I planned to, you’re committing to up to sixteen miles roundtrip! And I haven’t even mentioned the nearly 5000 vertical feet the trail gains on the way to the top.

So did Kes and I get the permit on the very first try?

Wait a second.

Feel the tension.

Look at this pretty photo.

By some stroke of luck we actually did! My sheer determination had finally paid off, but only in the most ironic way possible. While I was beyond ecstatic, I was also feeling the pain of just shooting myself in the foot. You see, I never actually expected to win on the first day, and part of me didn’t even want to, because hiking Half Dome during our first day would actually be a lot more logistically challenging than hiking on any other day of our visit.

For starters, we were going to be camping outside the park the night before our hike. That meant we had to wake up even earlier, for a hike that we already had to wake up super early for. Then there was the whole problem of dragging the Teardrop along with us and finding two parking spots in an area where it might be impossible just to find one. To top it off we’d have to set up camp again after a pretty brutal day of hiking. But those were all hurdles I was willing to jump through for Half Dome.

Our day started bright and early at 3:30 AM. We made it to the trailhead around 4:45 AM and started hiking soon after.

Kes and I laughed many times that morning about hiking to a peak that neither of us had ever seen in person before. Because we had started hiking in the pitch black, we pretty much wouldn’t be able to see Half Dome until it was right in front of us.

As we made our way up we pushed past hoards of slower moving hikers, literally by putting our hands in the shape of a wedge and parting the sea of people. Luckily the crowds dissipated the further along the trail we made it. By the time we reached the top of Vernal Falls, the first major landmark of the hike, we were pretty much hiking alone.

Vernal Falls was absolutely stunning, but at the pace we were going we only had time to enjoy it in passing.

Nevada Falls was the second major waterfall along the trail to Half Dome. This waterfall is nearly twice the height (over 600 feet tall) of Vernal Falls, which is crazy! Crazier yet, we had reached this point by 7:00 AM, which was still just the beginning of our hike but would be the end of most people's trek along this trail. And we still hadn’t even seen the sun!

There were some areas where the trail leveled out, but in my mind most of the trail looked like this: switchbacks straight up.

It’s funny looking back and remembering that it wasn’t until about four hours after we started hiking that the trees thinned out and we could really see the surrounding valley. As we got closer to the top the views were only getting better!

At 9:30 AM, 8 miles from where we had started and nearly a mile higher in the air, we reached the base of Half Dome.

A small group of people were resting at the base before their final ascent up the cables. We quickly joined them and watched as people slowly inched their way up the last 300 feet to the peak.

Before long we were making our way up the cable ourselves. We slid on our gloves, tightened our shoes, said our last goodbyes, and started the ascent.

Despite traveling so far to the point we were at now, I can safely say that the cables were the most intense part of the hike to Half Dome. It took us nearly 30 minutes to make it up this section alone!

At the top we were welcomed by congratulations from other people who had successfully made it to the top, as well as by some of the most spectacular views I’d ever seen. It was at this moment that I realized this was probably the most epic first experience one could have at Yosemite.

I was beyond grateful to have seen the park for the first time from the top of Half Dome.

I think both Kes and I were pretty exhausted after reaching the top. Since we had made it to the top of Half Dome so early we had plenty of time to sit down, take in the views, and eat lunch. Luckily it was all downhill (literally) from here! Please enjoy some of the wonderful photos taken at the top, courtesy of the one and only Kes.

You may notice some haziness in the background of some of these photos. I haven’t brought this up yet, but our visit coincided with two large wildfires burning along the perimeter of the park. By an amazing stroke of luck the smoke was virtually nonexistent for the first half of our hike and only really became noticeable on the way down. Neither Kes nor I were irritated by the smoke, which I am so thankful for.

Fortunately for us the hike down from Half Dome wasn’t nearly as difficult, or eventful, as our hike up. We were back at the Jeep by 3:00 PM, just in time for a dip in the river before heading to camp!

Most people probably have the luxury of taking a nice hot shower at their cabin or hotel after hiking Half Dome, but not Kes and I! That’s ok though, there really is nothing as refreshing as jumping in a nice, cool river after a long, hot, sweaty day of hiking!

We ended up reserving a spot at a campground in Yosemite for the duration of our visit. There were no showers, but just the thought of having a site that we wouldn’t have to fight for, that would be waiting for us without any worries was luxury enough!

Since I’ve spent so much time talking about Half Dome I won’t bore you with everything else we did in Yosemite. I’ll just say that most of our days were spent hiking, relaxing and swimming in the river, and cooking good food at camp. We also somehow encountered very few crowds, possibly due to the nearby fires, which only enhanced our experience.

The next day we took it pretty easy and did a short hike to a giant sequoia grove near camp called Tuolumne Grove. Sidenote: did you know that Yosemite has several giant sequoia groves, cause I sure didn’t until I visited!

In the middle of the grove was this drive through tree, although you can’t drive through it anymore (even if you could, I doubt most modern vehicles would fit through it). I believe this tree was along an old toll road, one of the first, into Yosemite. I really enjoyed seeing this little piece of history.

Afterwards we went back to the same swimming hole we had been to the previous day and enjoyed the sun. Let me tell you, it’s an entirely different experience driving into Yosemite during the day, compared to the pitch black of the previous morning.

El Capitan is another one of those peaks that I’d be surprised if you haven’t seen before. Even so, I still had to throw it in just because it is so mind boggling. There’s some things in life, like Coastal Redwoods or El Capitan, that are so big it’s almost impossible to comprehend them.

Since we were spending so much time in Yosemite, we had the opportunity to experience some of the lesser traveled areas in the park, such as Tuolumne Meadows. These meadows were a favorite of John Muir, who actually pushed for their incorporation into Yosemite National Park.

On our last day we visited Hetch Hetchy Reservoir. The main reason Kes and I visited was because of O’Shaughnessy Dam’s history. This dam was built in the early 1900’s to provide drinking water to San Francisco, which it still does today. However, like any good dam, this dam was not without its controversy. John Muir and the Sierra Club strongly opposed the dam’s creation, stating that Hetch Hetchy Valley’s beauty was comparable to that of Yosemite Valley itself. Yet even the most famous naturalists in history couldn’t get in the way of a million thirsty people. Do you think the dam’s builders did the right thing in choosing utilitarianism over conservation?

No matter what you think, Kes and I still enjoyed ourselves by hiking around the reservoir to a couple small waterfalls.

When our time ended in Yosemite I could easily say that I’d fallen in love with the place. It’s funny, looking back I really don’t know what I was afraid of. All I know is that I fell in love with Yosemite for all the right reasons.

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Lassen Volcanic

National Park, California

August 7th, 2022

by Sam the Other Bean

As the name states, Lassen Volcanic National Park is most well-known for Lassen Peak, a giant volcano at the center of the park. This volcano is cool for a couple reasons, including the fact that Lassen Peak is the largest plug dome volcano in the world, and that this volcano was last active from 1914 to 1921. During that span of time a series of eruptions occurred that were photographed and even recorded on film by onlookers. This footage is definitely worth a look and can be found here.

Could you imagine being there when Lassen Peak erupted? Luckily nobody was hurt during these eruptions, and this volcanic activity was actually the reason why Lassen Volcanic was declared a national park in 1916. Unfortunately, Kes and I’s experience here was a little more tame than if we had visited 100 years ago.

During our visit, Lassen Peak looked as tame as any other ordinary mountain.

Being our first time to the park, we felt that it was our duty to climb to the top of Lassen Peak. How cool would it be to say that we climbed to the top of a volcano?

The trail up was grueling but worth it.

At the top we could pretty much see the rest of Lassen Volcanic National Park, as well some prominent peaks in the distance such as Mount Shasta. You can also see the switchbacks we took on the way up.

Mount Shasta is another volcano at the southern tip of the Cascade Range. However, Lassen Peak is still further south and claims the title for the southernmost volcano in this range.

It was impossible to look around at the peak without noticing the gigantic crater only a few hundred feet away. This craggily crater truly looks hellish, and I would be lying if I said it didn’t strike a little fear in me of an eruption occurring while we were on top.

Luckily no eruption occurred and we made it back down to the bottom without incident. While climbing Lassen Peak was definitely a highlight of our visit, I wouldn’t say that this experience was the key takeaway from the trip. Similar to Sequoia National Park, fire is an integral part of the ecosystem at Lassen Volcanic National Park. Traces of wildfire could be seen throughout the park, and it wasn’t until Kes and I went to a ranger talk that I really understood just how important fire is to maintaining a healthy ecosystem.

During one of the days of our visit we hiked on a trail that took us directly through the burn scar of the 2021 Dixie Fire - the largest wildfire in Lassen Volcanic’s history.

The Dixie Fire did quite a number on the park, burning almost three quarters of the entire park’s area. This is not to say that all of the park burned the same way however. In areas like this you can see that no trees survived the blaze. A wildfire is unhealthy when it burns all the vegetation in its path. Unfortunately this type of fire is what we are becoming more used to and, at least for me, this is what I imagine burn areas to look like after a wildfire.

Luckily not all of Lassen was burned to this extent. Much of the park burned at more of a healthy level, leaving a mosaic of dead and living vegetation behind as seen in this photo.

Only a third of the vegetarian burn area in the park was considered to be high severity, while the other two thirds of vegetation burn area was either unchanged or low to moderate severity. In other words, much of the Dixie Fire in Lassen burned vegetation at a healthy level. This was in large part due to fuel reduction strategies implemented by the park long before the Dixie Fire. So, when the Dixie fire did come through areas that had been managed properly in the past, more trees were able to survive the blaze, and those that did not will pave the way for more diverse vegetation in the future.

This map shows the burn severity of the Dixie Fire in Lassen Volcanic National Park. Notice that the areas that burned at the highest severity are pretty much all in the southern part of the park.

This map shows the areas of past fires and fuel reduction efforts. Comparing this map to the one above, and you can easily see that in places where fire previously burned, the severity of the Dixie Fire was significantly lower. In the southern part of the park, where there had been almost no fire in the past 100 years, the Dixie Fire burned at a high severity.

I know Kes talked about wildfires in detail at Sequoia National Park, but I just want to say that it’s important to reframe our mindset on fires. Fires have played a crucial role in our forests long before we arrived, and fire will continue to change our forests whether we want it to or not. By managing forests in a way that more closely resembles natural forces, we can not only conserve these lands for future generations, but also promote healthier ecosystems with increased biodiversity. I mean come on, it’s a win-win situation.

There was a lot more we did in Lassen that I did not talk about. However, I just couldn’t live with myself if I didn’t show you pictures of at least one of the hydrothermal areas within Lassen Volcanic National Park.

A visit to Lassen wouldn’t be complete without hiking to Bumpass Hell. This is the largest hydrothermal area in the park. To me, Bumpass Hell felt like a miniature Yellowstone.

Fun Fact: Bumpass is named after a guide who showed tourists around the area in the late 1800’s. One day, while showing the area to some visitors, he fell into a mud pit and severely burned his leg. Truly a hell for Bumpass!

A boardwalk took us by many of the features in Bumpass Hell including Kes’s favorite: mudpots!

Just like in Yellowstone, these mudpots get gooier and gooier the less water there is to feed them. Since we came pretty late in the summer, the mudpots were in full bloom.

For some reason the smell of sulfur mixed with the occasional waft of steam and heat was surprisingly pleasant.

I hope you enjoyed this exceedingly long blog post! Our excuse is that this blog covers nearly a month of our Gap Year. There’s also the fact that, somehow, Kes and I really fell in love with California despite the skepticism we initially harbored.

Our next blog post will probably be our last, but that’s not to say that will be the last time you hear from us. We still have plenty that we’re excited to share about our year. In our next post Kes and I head to our favorite desert to end the Gap Year in style and hit some destinations on our way back home that we’ve been eager to see.

See you in Nevada!

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Housekeeping

Hi friend,

If you’re new to my page, welcome!

If not, then it’s really nice to see you again :)

If you aren’t on my newsletter and would like to be, you can easily sign up with your preferred email address and bam! You’ll be notified as soon as I post.

As always, I’d love to hear about your favorite photos, moments, or any plain old thoughts you have on our travels so far. Whatever it is, Sam and I love hearing from you.

Without further ado, I hope you have a wonderful rest of your day.

Best,

Kes the Photobean