RETIREMENT TRIP #6

     IN THE LAND OF THE ANCIENTS    

        September 2015       



At Vista Point pullout, we can see tiny patches of snow
on peaks in the distance. 

“It’s going to be 95 in the valley again today,” said Andy.

“But we won’t be there,” I answered, checking to make sure my jacket was in the back of the car.  I knew I would probably need it if we were headed back up into the mountains at the 13,000-foot level.

“These Bristlecone pines are only at about 10,000 feet,” said Andy.

“Cool enough.”

“I think this grove is the oldest known trees on earth,” he continued.  “It’s the site of the Methuselah tree, and they don’t tell you which one it is either.”

Sierra View is on top of the world.

“That’s a shame, but it also makes sense,” I answered.  I can’t fathom how people could be so callous that they could do damage to anything so rare and priceless.  But then again I know there are thoughtless individuals who would carve initials to leave their mark.

Andy rests at the foot of a Bristlecone Pine.

It was a 24-mile drive to the Schulman Grove.  We passed three road bikers on the narrow, winding road in.  Andy slowed for each one so there was no chance we’d meet another car coming the other way on the bends. All three had small bottles of water, but what strength it takes to ride thousands of feet continuously up in elevation!  They must have started up by 6 a.m. to make it so far by 9:30 a.m.

“Imagine their lung power!” said Andy.

I guess this is training for La Tour de France.

Growing in the nutrient-poor dolomite soil, Bristlecones
have little competition with other plants.

At the Sierra View Vista Point pullout we walked the scenic trail out to the point.  Hazy in the morning sun, the peaks in the distance towered 13,000 to 14,000 feet.  Mount Whitney was about 30 miles to the south.

“That’s why Death Valley, the driest spot in North America, is so very dry,” said Andy.  “There are four major ranges before the clouds can get to that valley.  It still has the highest recorded temperature on earth of 134 degrees at Furnace Creek.”

Bristlecones cling
precariously to the
sides of the mountains.

                                      
                          We drove on leisurely to Schulman Grove. It was 64 degrees.  I didn’t really need my jacket.

At the Visitor Center, high in the mountains, Interpretive Guide Jackie chatted with us about travel and her own love for the Sierras.  She readily accepted a few dollars in change that Andy had collected and helped us pick out a unique souvenir monarch butterfly pin.  Above all, traveling lets us meet wonderful people like Jackie.

The 4.5-mile Methuselah Walk, a journey through the oldest known living forest, took us three hours and 25 minutes.  It climbed and descended 800 feet and reached higher than the 10,200-foot elevation.



With shallow roots that may extend out
fifty feet, Bristlecones absorb all
available moisture.

Here, sun beats down, wind sculpts rock and snow can blanket the ground for months at a time.  Change is slow and footprints last for years.

The Bristlecone, growing in one of the most inhospitable climates on earth, holds the secrets of longevity.

As we walked, we read about the ancient marvels.

Most Bristlecone Pine cones are purple, due to the presence of a pigment called anthcyanin.  Pollen from cones pollinates the small bristly purple seed cones, which close and begin to grow before winter.  The seed cone grows, matures the next fall, opens to release tiny white-winged seeds to the wind.  Reproduction isn’t easy.

Bristlecone pines grow better on northern slopes where snow melts less rapidly and water evaporates more slowly.  A seed may sprout and get its start in the alkaline dolomite soil and grow only about an inch a year.  Because few other plants can tolerate the alkalinity, the tree has little competition, but the soil is nutrient-poor.  Each tree sends out shallow, lateral roots for stability, water and nutrients.  Bristlecones have no deep tap roots.  The resinous nature of the wood protects them from fungus and insects.

Living on top of the world, Bristlecones bear inhospitable
conditions but have little competition from other plants.

New growth rings are added yearly, but they are so small it might take a century to add an inch of thickness.  That inch could contain up to 300 growth rings.  It is said that the Bristlecone rings can be dated back to 6,700 B.C., which is more than 8,715 years of tree-ring history.

The trail, not much more than a foot wide in some places, cut into the steep slope and skirted the edge of high ridges of the sub-alpine life zone.  Bristlecones and Limber pines grow on the north-facing slopes, where dolomite soil predominates.

Bristlecones, with needles attached
in whorls of five, keep
their needles for 30 to 40 years.

Somewhere in this grove is the 4,600-
year old Methuselah Tree.

            
                                      
                                      
                                      
                                   Sage and mountain mahogany grow in darker, richer soils on the drier south-facing slopes.  As the climate warms, pinion pines are moving in.

Because Bristlecones keep their needles for 30 to 40 years, little residue litters the forest floor.  This prevents the spread of fires.

Somewhere in the Methuselah Grove is the tree located in 1957 by Dr. Edmund Schulman to be more than 4,000 years old.  We know today it is more than 4,600 years and is still alive and producing viable seeds.

Greater adversity seems to grow stronger trees, even century after century.

The twisted forms look like sculptures
in the high desert.

The sensitive nature of the tree gives scientists records of the past.  Climates, droughts, severe frost, fires, volcanic eruptions can all be recorded in these ancient pieces of wood.

We passed a cut branch from a fallen Bristlecone.  A small gouge showed the year Christ was born.  The tree was dated as living 1,000 B.C. to 650 A.D.  I touched it gently, awestruck by the magnitude.  Not only had it lived so far out of my realm of imagination but it had not rotted in 1,400 years.

In the high desert old age
is impressive.

 

As Andy and I sat together on one of the benches donated by the Manasett Rotary Club of New York, I breathed in the nippy mountain air and closed my eyes as the hot sun bathed my face.  I wanted to come back here in times of stress.  I wanted to hear the call of the sapsucker and the whistle of the nuthatch and the scurrying feet of the golden mantled Ground Squirrel as it searched for seeds before the first snowfall.  But most of all I wanted to breathe in the peace of this environment of stunted, ancient trees—3,000 to 4,000 years old and still growing--not in spite of adversity but because of it.  It is a place I didn’t want to leave.

Bristlecones thrive
where nothing else
can stay alive.

We checked out Deep Springs.  It turned out to be a ranch, but the entrance said Deep Springs College.  The cluster of trees looked out of place in the dry valley, next to the salt flats and dried out bed of Deep Springs Lake.  That would be a lonely place to go to school.

Back down in the valley, radio telescopes from Cal Tech
look for life in other places.

   
   
   
   
   
   
   
    
   
   
  
Another turn to a dirt road took us to the Cal Tech radio telescopes.  We walked in to the one that wasn’t gated to take a picture.

“We’re actually crossing the desert on foot,” I told Andy.  “We’re pioneers.”