Every year, I like to get out of town for my birthday. Last year, the hubs and I headed down to our surf shack in Baja. The year before that, we hiked and hot tubbed in the wilderness around Florence Lake. And the year before that, we trekked through the snow in the Mammoth Basin.
This year? After an exhausting five months of cooking, shooting, and writing, I didn’t even want to think about organizing an outing. I was very much content with bumming on the beach with a beer in hand, and had planned to do so up until two days before we decided to drive up to Sequoia National Forest.
As a California resident for the last 12-plus years, I couldn’t believe that I hadn’t made it to the sequoia groves yet. I’d driven through the park many times on my way up to Kings Canyon or down to Kern River, and had heard of giant trees you could drive through and bears that freely roamed the roadside, but since it was right in my backyard, so to speak, I always set aside the trip for “one day.” It’ll still be there, I’d say.
And of course, a grove of 2,000- to 3,000-year-old trees isn’t going anywhere. But “one day” is a silly rationale when I could be doing it today — and that today happened to be on my birthday last weekend. (High-five to all the other Flag Day babies out there!)
I turned 34. But compared to a sequoia, I haven’t even outgrown the baby stage yet! Ah, nothing like a giant sequoia to make you feel young.