Don't Miss Your Chance

As I get older I'm sure a lot of people get tired of me telling them to grab the moment. Life is precious fucking short and if there's something you want to do, something you want to see, then by Jove your best bet is to do it, see it.

Here's an example:

A few states away there was a tree that was so spectacular that a park was formed around it. This tree was termed "The Senator" in honor of the man who'd bought the land on which it grew and who deeded that land to the public for the tree's protection. It had pretty well been concluded that The Senator was more than 3,500 years old. Which means that even Rome had to wait 1,500 years for Augustus Caesar to be born when this tree was a seedling.

The Senator was easily, by far, the largest tree growing on the eastern side of the North American continent. To see anything that even approached this mammoth tree you'd have to drive a couple thousand miles to the west. It was unique. It was amazing. It was the Stupefyin' Jones of the eastern forests.

A few weeks ago The Senator was intentionally set alight by two meth freaks. It quickly burst into flames. At first the authorities thought that the tree had been struck by lightning, but finally the truth came out. By the time flames were noticed it was far too late to save this amazing living thing.

The point here is that I would always tell friends and acquaintances that they needed to stop at the Big Tree Park to see this tree if they were anywhere in the vicinity. It would only take a short few moments to locate the park, stroll the boardwalk to the tree and to view it. Doing so would hopefully put some things in life into perspective. One would, hopefully at least, gain an appreciation for the wealth that Nature displays for us.

Now The Senator is gone forever. If you never saw it...well, you fucked up. If, like me, you visited the park to see this tree whenever you were in that area, at least you have the memory of having experienced its majesty. In that respect, I have no regrets.

A stitched panorama of The Senator. The insignificant speck to the left of the tree is me. If you ever saw this tree, then good for you. If you never got the chance, or did and passed it by, then I feel sorry for you.

Trees

THEM THAR TREES

When I was a kid I used to go tramping about the woods with my dad. He loved to go hiking, generally in places where there were no trails, and we'd often go exploring.

My dad was very good at tree identification. No, he was extremely good at it. We couldn't pass a tree when he wouldn't know what it was. Sometimes he would ID a tree by just its bark, which is often very difficult. And every time we'd go wandering around, he would point out this or that tree and tell me what it was. And then he'd explain to me how to identify it by its proper name.

And that information would go through one ear and out the other. Why? I'm not sure. I did love the woods, even back then, when I was just a little kid. But for whatever reason, I just never bothered to learn much about the individual trees.

Oh, I could tell you about forest succession, and explain some simple elements of forest hydrology; and I understood the roles some forest types played in certain ecological niches. But I couldn't really tell you how to tell an elm from beech.

Maybe I was having such a good time in the forest that I didn't care for it to be turned into a classroom. Hell, I just don't know. But now that I'm older I wish that I'd paid more attention to my dad when he was trying to teach me how to know what kind of tree I was looking at when I passed it by.

Oh, well. Better late than never, I reckon. This weekend I'll be hanging out with some of the East's best tree experts as we measure some of the world-champion examples of a number of hardwood and evergreen species here in the South. I'll post some photos and commentary when I return.

Anxious

BLUE SPRINGS...

BIG CYPRESS TREES...

and ALLIGATORS.

Gettin' anxious to head back to wild Florida.

Time to Plan

It's about that time again. Time to go out hiking and backpacking, searching for some solitude and looking for something fine in Nature. I've been thinking of heading to some area with some champion caliber trees. Not sure just where...but somewhere in the mountains.

The last big tree I went to find: Old Methusala in DeLeon Springs State Park in Florida. Not a champion tree, but superior quality. It was easily the biggest tree that I saw in the park.

Another Missed Opportunity.

When I was in West Virginia earlier this year, I toyed with the idea of detouring from my route to go to Webster Springs to see “The Big Sycamore”, a 500-year-old giant sycamore tree around which the town of Webster Springs has officially sanctioned a park. I’d always been told that the sight of this tree was moving to tree-lovers such as myself.

But, we were pressed and I couldn’t budget the time it would take to get to Big Sycamore Park and back along our route homeward. I figured if it had lived for 500 years, then certainly I could wait a few more months until I’d get another chance to see this grand, old tree.

However, on the night of September 1, 2007, some locals who had set up camp in the park and were (according to the evidence later found by police) drinking heavily, decided that it would be fun to burn down The Big Sycamore. To do this, they poured gasoline into the hollow at the base of the tree and set it alight. At this time, it’s not known if the sycamore will survive, or will have to be cut down.

I may have missed my chance to see this giant remnant of the forests that once covered West Virginia. I’m heading up that way in a couple of weeks, and I’ll phone the park officials in Webster Springs to learn if the tree is still around, and if it’s still accessible to those of us who wish to gaze upon a living thing that was 300 years old before even our nation came into being.

As for the monsters who burned The Big Sycamore, I can only hope one of their worthless, drunken number will brag about how they did their filthy best to destroy the tree. And I hope that these human examples of moving excrement can be punished in some way. Alas, we do not allow the public burning of humans, so I will assume these walking bags of puke will merely receive some minor slap.