Methuselah
Seven years ago I became aware of a species of trees known as Ancient Bristlecone Pines (Pinus longaeva). I was completely engulfed in wonder after reading a short snippet about a hike around the "Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest" in the White Mountains of California. I had to see these trees. I had to feel their energy. I had to touch their bark and feel the story of humanity (as there is dendrochronological evidence of their existence spanning back over 12,000 years) as it unfolded while these magnificent beings grew from high atop these arid mountains. The year was 2015 and it would be another two years until I would venture out onto highway 168 into the White Mountains where these ancient ones touch the clouds.
On July 4, 2017, I had my chance to see, touch and bask in the presence of the Bristlecones. As soon as my boots were laced up and my backpack on my back (camera in hand, of course) down the Methuselah trail I went. Actually, up the trail I went as the first half mile is a climb. Younger Bristlecones line the sides of the trail as the well packed dirt gives way to rocks, talus and scree. After about ten minutes, a Bristlecone came into view that grabbed a hold of my breath and never let go. This tree was exactly what I had seen in photographs and articles. Gnarled, twisted, regal and majestic. It's roots semi-exposed out of the dolomitic soil as it clung firmly to the side of the mountain. My hands instinctively reached for the trunk as my eyes closed.
"Hello, old friend. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance. Tell me what you know, what you've seen and how old you are", I whispered to it. It is a custom I have adopted over the years to place my hands on trees and greet them this way. It matters not if the tree is a Redwood, Sequoia, Maple, Oak or Aspen, the greeting remains the same. A show of homage and respect to natures living sentinels and keepers of time and records.
As I meandered along the 4.5-mile trail, I was awash in the wonder of these high alpine organisms. Touching and greeting as many of these brothers and sisters as I could manage. Each tree offered its own picture as to how it evolved and grew amid some of the harshest conditions the White Mountains offered. The hurricane force winds, frigid winter temperatures and highly alkaline soil which is inhospitable to most anything else other than the Bristlecone Pine, shapes the trees into living artwork. I wondered where the tree known as "Methuselah" was located. There is a grove of the most ancient of these trees on the trail located in the aptly named "Methuselah Grove", but the tree herself, is not marked in an effort to protect her from vandalism and harm. I learned that very few people know of her location as the US Forest Service goes to great length to keep her location a safely guarded secret.
As I walked off the trail years ago, I knew I loved these trees more than I could use words to describe them. I knew I needed to see them more often. I knew I needed to meet "Methuselah" herself and show her the homage she so rightly deserves. I became passionate about researching ways to locate her. The task at hand was going to take some time, that much I was well aware of. I began researching after coming back to civilization and found out how truly difficult of a task this was to become. I sent dozens of emails to leads I found on the internet. I scoured articles, websites, blogs and chats to see if anyone leaked details as to where to find Methuselah. Five years I poured effort and energy into the hunt whenever I had a free moment or two.
Finally, three weeks ago, I received an email from someone familiar with Methuselah and where she lived. My heart stopped. As I read the email and saw the writers contact information, my hands shook a bit. Was this finally the lead I was so desperately seeking? Could this be true? I read and re-read the email and the offer to have a chat about my view on conservation, ecology and the impact of humans on remote nature and wilderness. I sat slack jawed in amazement at this stroke of luck and composed myself for a conversation that could lead to an end of this quest. Finding my own Excalibur amidst the trillions of trees on this planet.
The conversation was pleasant. We chatted easily and shared stories of a shared boyhood in scouting which led to a love of nature, hiking and camping. We talked about cleaning up debris and "Leaving No Trace" while on trails, summits and in campgrounds. I told him about my efforts in the "Dive Against Debris" (scuba diver's global efforts to clean up our sacred waters and water systems.) and how this year my dive buddies and I have successfully removed over 400 pounds of debris from our waters. We talked about fire, its effects and how unnecessary campfires are on the whole. It was an easy conversation between two humans who care deeply about all things wild. As we approached the reason for the call, he point blank asked me, "Mike, why do you need to know where this tree is? Why is it so important to you?". I answered that the only way I knew how. I told him I wanted to feel its ancient presence. I wanted to feel its energy and hopefully Methuselah would allow me to take some of her energy as well. I wanted to sit next to something ancient and bask in its glow. I wasn't looking to share photographs of her or take video and upload it. I wanted this experience for me alone. I wanted to connect with the oldest known non-clonal tree on the planet because I just love trees. The conversation was quiet for a moment. He said, "Do you have a pen and paper ready? Here are the GPS coordinates..." Trembling, I took them down and thanked him profusely. I promised that so long as I lived, I would not share the coordinates and would always remain and advocate for conservation.
As I stepped foot into the parking lot of the Dr. Edmund P. Schulman Visitor Center, I felt the all too familiar goosebumps of excitement beginning. The weather was perfect. No traces of thunderstorms and temperatures in the low to mid 60's. The trail was exactly as I remembered. The ancient and hallowed feeling abounded as the miles clicked away and the trail turned and weaved toward the Methuselah Grove. Upon seeing the specific details I was told to look for as I neared the destination, my heart began to race and then all of a sudden... There she was...
My eyes welled up, the tears flowed, my hands found her trunk and at this moment, the world stopped. Seven years of research and determination to find this sacred tree, and here I was, standing next to it with my hands on something alive which sprouted before the Great Pyramids at Giza were built. Much of recorded human history has occurred after this noble Bristlecone came to be. Breathless. Methuselah is not a giant. Not even remotely close to that. She, as many publications have stated, is a mid-size Bristlecone Pine at best. However, she holds a secret in her tiny size that has lasted almost over 4,900 years. Bristlecones grow slowly. Sometimes, only an inch of diameter every hundred years. The dolomitic soil and arid conditions allow their wood to harden to near cement-like properties which keep out disease, fire and boring insects. Parts of these trees die over time, but sometimes a single strip of bark continues to live on and even produce pine cones for generations to come. They space themselves out along the 9,000 to 11,000-foot range above sea level so competition among them need not exist for the sparse resources in the soil. High atop these peaks they are like aliens on another planet.
Spending time with this ancient one passed by in a heartbeat. Time. 4,900 years of growing. Seven years of researching and studying to locate this tree (none of the photos shown are Methuselah). Hopefully, another thousand years for this magnificent tree. This keeper of time and history. Wishing to hear her voice tell stories. Bidding her goodbye for now, I walked back onto the trail and continued toward the end of the loop. Trying to comprehend the moments spent and when I would next have the chance to sit against her weathered bark and have a conversation.
Conservation. Such an important part of our world. Conserving resources and leaving the world a better place than which we found. Evidence of climate change is everywhere. Fossil fuels continue to burn, single use plastics continue to exist, fishing stocks continue to be depleted and beautiful creatures continue to go extinct harkening the alarm bells as we edge towards the 6th mass extinction. Droughts grow longer, wildfires burn more frequently and with greater intensity. What is to become of our natural treasures like the Ancient Bristlecone Pines? I hope and beseech the spirits and guardians of this world and all its sacred spaces to show our human race how to better take care of this glorious planet we inhabit. To live more like indigenous peoples with greater respect for all the all the natural gifts we have been given.
I want you to ask yourself a question upon finishing this blog. What can I do to help in the conservation efforts of our earthly home? What impact can I make on a local, continental and global level? How can I best honor Mother Earth?
Om Mani Padme Hum. I send blessings to you all. May Lung-ta, the Wind Horse, carry them, swiftly, to you and to all sentient beings throughout this earth. May you take a moment to touch trees and truly know them, place your hands in our sacred waters, touch that water to your face and ask those waters to heal you, feel the wind in your hair and be thankful for the breath it gives and place your toes into the soil and give thanks for the plants it produces which nourish and ground us.
"Leave nothing but footprints, take nothing but pictures, kill nothing but time."
Namaste, friends.
