Seeing Yosemite for the first time was as close to a religious experience as I’ll most likely ever have. I’ve always loved spending time in the outdoors, hiking, kayaking and the like, but this spring break, I realized how deeply I am physically and emotionally tied to the outside world. It’s given me a perspective about my future I didn’t have before and a renewed strength in what I’m studying here at Cal.
During the first weekend of spring break, a few close friends and I decided to camp in Big Sur. We did all the normal camping things: drink beer, make a fire, cook a delicious meal and explore our home for the night. We enjoyed listening to bird calls and rushing water — a delight compared to the car stereos, construction noises and traffic noises I’m used to hearing every morning when I wake up.
It was the beauty I had come to expect of the California coast: epic redwoods set against a background of idyllic beaches and California cliffs that are breathtaking every time you view them. I spent hours nerding out with my good friend Lilah, a forester in her own right, exclaiming over plant structures, tree rings and mysterious fungi. We got down on our hands and knees with my hand lens and copy of the Jepson Manual and reveled in the small bits of nature most people don’t notice when walking through the woods.
A few days later, my partner and I packed up my brother’s car and drove to Yosemite and had a phenomenal trip hiking, taking pictures and just enjoying our time alone together. We talked about how lucky we were to live in such a diverse and beautiful state. We had started our trip deep in the Central Valley, drove by suburbias, small highway communities, rivers, hills and more. But that first glance into the Yosemite Valley blew me away.
I was reminded of an essay I had read the semester before by John Muir, the famed preservationist and hero of Yosemite who wrote passionately about its grandeur and almost heavenly qualities. “And how softly these mountain rocks are adorned, and how fine and reassuring the company they keep … things frail and fleeting and types of permanence meeting here and blending, as if into this glorious mountain temple Nature had gathered here choices treasures, whether great or small, to draw her lovers into close confiding communion with her.”
That first look of the valley floored me. It was inspiring and breathtaking. It gave me a sense of the infinite wonder that our planet has to offer. It also made me reflect upon all of the people who work tirelessly to ensure that we continue to have opportunities to experience these vast expanses of nature.
We as Californians and Americans ensure that our children and grandchildren will be able to drive into the valley of Yosemite or into the depths of Big Sur’s coastal forest through our tax dollars and entrance fees. We pay the salaries of the hundreds of workers who maintain these parks, who fix the trails and the roads, serve as guides and rangers. We are the new generation of guardians of these few places where there are more bear- and deer-crossing signs than there are for McDonald’s.
Although some have legitimate complaints about our park system’s money management and see park funding as a place to trim the budget, I would argue that our park system, much like our environment as a whole, is our only lasting gift to the future generations of people who will inhabit this land. If that’s not worth a few extra dollars and the faith that they will be used to conserve and elongate the life of these important places, then I don’t know what is.
Contact Carli Baker at [email protected] or follow her on Twitter: @carliannebaker.