My wife Yoko and I were on vacation in the summer of 2010, traveling back to places in California that we hadn’t seen for 35 years. In addition to the old stomping grounds at Berkeley, San Francisco and Santa Monica, we wanted to spend time in the other wild places that we remembered and loved in California. Yosemite, Kings Canyon, and Sequoia National Parks were on our list, and we spent several days hiking and enjoying all the amazing landscapes and nature there. At Yosemite’s Glacier Point, we stood where John Muir and President Teddy Roosevelt had in 1903, when they spent three days together immersed in nature, telling stories and sleeping under the stars.

We visited Muir’s old estate and mansion, now a national historic site, in Martinez, CA, where we literally walked in the footsteps of the great naturalist and conservationist. At his house, I had to hold myself back when I saw his desk and chair, in the upstairs study, where he had penned and edited many journals, articles and books. I still regret not having hurdled the rope barrier and sitting at his desk, if for only a moment. Outside, on the Muir ranch, we saw the tree he had planted, which had grown quite large by most standards, but was a mere baby giant sequoia, after 100 years.

I’d become a John Muir fan, even before our trip, after reading an excellent biography of him by Donald Worster. (1) I think I most admire how Muir would thrust himself into the mountains and forests, and wander around for days or weeks, with few provisions, trusting that nature would never harm him, but rather that it would always rejuvenate his soul. I wanted to experience some of that myself. I’ve hiked around and photographed Nature for years, but I’ve never done a “deep dive” into Nature like Muir did. He said, “One day’s exposure to mountains is better than cartloads of books. See how willingly Nature poses herself upon photographers’ plates. No earthly chemicals are so sensitive as those of the human soul.” (2)

The giant sequoia groves within the national parks are a marvel to behold. The General Sherman tree, in Sequoia National Park, is the largest tree by volume, at 49,600 cu ft. It is over 272 feet high, with a base diameter of 30.7 feet. The age of some of these ancient trees is estimated to be over 3000 years. But the groves were crowded with tourists and you couldn’t go up to most of the trees and touch them.

Then I read about the Boole Tree. It was off the beaten path and kind of hard to get to, so not a lot of tourists went there. It sounded perfect, so we followed our guidebook there.

The rental car shook and bounced as we hit potholes and kicked up dust clouds on the dry dirt road into the forest. I started to wonder if this was really the right road we were on, and if so, was it worth it just to see one more giant tree? Finally, we got to the trail head and started our hike.

We came across a large grassy meadow with Yellow Monkeyflower and white Yarrow wildflowers everywhere. It was aptly named Stump Meadow, because of the dozens of giant sequoia stumps all around, the result of the logging that Muir had witnessed. It was beautiful on the one hand but sad that we couldn’t see the forest of giant trees, in their former glory, as they had existed for thousands of years. The good news is that there is much new growth there, including many young giant sequoia trees that are thriving. But it will take another thousand years or more to restore the forest to its former maturity.

We continued hiking along the trail through a forest of pine, cedar, and fir trees until we saw some informational signs. They gave the history of the Boole tree, and showed an old photo, taken in the early 1900s, of families posing in front of the tree – some standing, some on horseback, and some positioned several feet up the tree, with a sign that said “Boole”. We knew the tree was close, though we couldn’t see it. “Just look up and find the tallest tree,” I said.

Then we spotted it, the majestic old giant, towering over us, looking like a battle-scarred general that had survived many a campaign over the years, but still stood tall over its surrounding evergreen army. We walked over and, as hoped for, there were no ropes or barriers to keep us back.

I placed my hands on the trunk and slowly slid my fingertips down, caressing the cinnamon-colored bark. The textured layers were not hard or rough, but rather soft and sensuous to my touch. I slowly circled the tree, guided by a faint burnt wood smell, which lead me to a large hollowed out interior section, which was charred black inside from fire. It was big enough to climb into – and I did – disappearing into the womb of the giant sequoia named Boole.

The amazing thing about these trees is that they were designed to withstand most forest fires. Their fibrous, fire-resistant bark can grow up to two feet in thickness, and even if large interior areas are destroyed by fire, the tree can still survive.

Even floods, droughts, bad weather, or other natural disasters are no match for these stately giants. Only man has proven to be their natural enemy, capable of decimating these marvels of nature. Thankfully, John Muir and others came to their rescue, so that the remaining groves are protected today.

While Yoko and I were there, admiring and photographing the Boole, a family of four showed up; a Mother, Father, and their young children. Yoko went over to talk to them. I kept taking pictures, unhappy that the family was interrupting our exclusive time with the big tree. The mother told Yoko that this was their annual pilgrimage to see the Boole. “The kids love playing around and going inside the tree.”, she said.

Yoko offered to take a photo of the family in front of the tree, with their camera, and they gratefully accepted. After a while, the family left, and we had the tree to ourselves again.

I later realized that this place was very special to them. It had become their family tradition to visit the Boole tree, at least once a year. It was nice to see young parents spending time with their children out in nature.

Before we left, I set up my camera on a tripod with a self timer, and took a photo of the two of us in front of the tree.

On that day, we joined the ranks of countless others over the ages, who have stood with the Boole, and witnessed the majesty of Nature. We also felt a kinship with this place, and with spirits past and present, transcending the boundaries of time. I have no doubt that Muir was there too, giving a nod of approval.

(1) A Passion for Nature: The Life of John Muir. By Donald Worster. New York, NY: Oxford University Press, 2008; 544 pages.

(2) From John of the Mountains: The Unpublished Journals of John Muir, (1938); page 95.