Go West Young Man!

32 Days and 5,536 Miles On My Vintage Motorcycle

Das food. I guess the theme of this trip is chili wanger dogs. Although, we couldn't pass up the opportunity to patronize an independant fruit grower's stand outside of Fresno. Stocked up with tomorrow's breakfast, we made a fast break for the western entrance of the Giant Sequoia National Forrest and Kings Canyon National Park.

I don't know what to tell you about the groves of giant Sequoia that grow here. The park entrance offers no fair warning. The first enormous trunk will not compute. I remember reading that the Natives of this country couldn't see the sails of the early explorers ships because they had no concept of such a thing. I don't know if that's true, but I can understand why you would want to believe it. I'm not a worshiper of nature, but this is the first of its creations I've ever held in the same regard as another person. The trees here are as good as us.

Don't believe any of the nasty things they say about the French. Justin offered to help this large group of French tourists with a group photograph and within a couple minutes we had made about fifty new friends. They were the most gracious, joyful people I've met. Lots of genuine interaction, with hands on our shoulders and big smiles. They took lots of pictures with us. It was suggested by one of the older guys that "you share?" when we were introduced to Lydia, the lone young woman in the group. The three of us blushed and they all broke into hysterics. Beautiful people.

We tried to make it into Sequoia National Park, which shares it's border with Kings Canyon, but were pushed back by the cold and closed campgrounds. Generous neighbors donated several cut logs to our pitiful brush fire and we carefully hid our fruit in the bear proof boxes supplied by the park service. Justin smoked a little of  Fred's weed and we enjoyed each others campfire antics. I slept lightly that night, always listening for the sound of my fruit being carried away into the darkness.


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