The Distant Sierras As Seen From the White Mountains

If I asked you to name the majestic California mountain range with peaks reaching over 14,000 feet, you might guess I was speaking of the Sierra Nevadas. You’d be right. But take out the word majestic and I could just as easily be speaking of the White Mountains, across the Owens Valley from the Sierras. Their gentle, rolling appearance belies their enormous size.

Ancient Sculpture

High up in the White Mountains one finds the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. Dating back over 2,000 years before Christ, these bristlecones are the oldest trees on the face of the earth. To be able to walk up and touch something that has been living since the time of the pyramids is -- for me at least -- a mindblower.

The Schulman Grove is one of three bristlecone pine groves in the area. It is the easiest to reach at a “mere” 10,000 feet in elevation. The road to get here is paved but it climbs over 6,000 feet in 20 miles so you should make sure your vehicle is not running low on coolant. For the first 15 miles the grade does not look unusually steep. Gear down anyway. Less than four miles into the drive we had to pull over to keep our engine from overheating in the 104 degree temperatures.

Alive & Kicking

Although this tree looks dead, the sprig of green in the upper left corner indicates that it is very much alive. This is typical of the oldest bristlecones, which are often nothing more than ancient slabs of wood with a single living branch.

Funny story…kind of: The oldest bristlecone pine in the world is the Methuselah Tree. It is located right here in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. But the Methuselah Tree has only held the title of oldest tree since 1964 when a researcher working in a bristlecone pine forest in Nevada cut down an even older tree. How did this researcher, dedicated to preserving these ancient wonders, explain singlehandedly destroying the oldest one of them all?

“It didn’t look that old.”

Apparently, looking young and vigorous is not always an advantage when you’re an ancient bristlecone pine.

Sunset in the White Mountains

The most interesting grove is also the hardest to reach. The Patriarch Grove is 1,200 feet higher and 13 miles farther down what the forest service describes as a “good quality dirt road”. While I beg to differ with that characterization, it is accurate to say that passenger cars can make the drive. High clearance and four wheel drive are not required.

I wanted to be at the Patriarch Grove at sunrise. The only problem was that the nearest campground was down at 8,000 feet, two to three hours away. I could either depart from the campground at 2:30 in the morning or spend the night in the Patriarch Grove. I opted for the latter.

We were about halfway to Patriarch Grove as the sun set.

Patriarch Grove Sunrise

Being up before sunrise was no problem. Despite being exhausted I was able to manage no more than five or ten minutes of sleep at a time before waking up gasping for air. It was the altitude. This miserable cycle repeated itself all night; I couldn’t wait for the sun to come back around so I could get up and outside.

Once the sun and I were up, everything was good. Sunrise was beautiful, bathing the landscape in a rosy pink light.

That had to hurt!

This old bristlecone appeared to have been dead for some time. The void in its trunk was left when it was no longer able to support the weight of a large branch, now laying on the ground beneath it.

Bristlecone pines are typically found in high altitude locations where little else can survive. It’s a harsh environment, but one in which they do not have to compete for resources with other plants and trees. The widely spaced bristlecones of the Patriarch Grove, scattered among the white dolomite, created a surrealistic landscape that was different from anything I had seen.

The road to the Patriarch Grove narrows to a single lane for the final mile. There is a drop off on one side and a steep upward slope on the other. This leaves few options should you happen to meet any vehicles traveling in the opposite direction. We decided it would be the better part of wisdom to leave early that morning in order to avoid any traffic issues on our way out. It was a good plan but it didn’t work. We were nearly in the clear when we encountered one of those tiny Dodge Calibers. Despite its small size, there was no way it could pass us.

One of the nice things about driving a six and a half ton vehicle is that no one expects you to maneuver out of the way in these situations. Instead of backing down the road a hundred yards to a wide spot, the driver of the tiny Dodge shifted into reverse and deftly backed up onto the rocky slope at what had to be a 45 degree angle. As we drove past, Darla and I both expressed admiration for his driving skills – and his courage – and his willingness to beat the tar out of his little car. Neither of us would have attempted that maneuver in that vehicle.

Once the road leveled out and widened to two lanes, we stopped on this exposed dolomite slope. It contained the scattered remnants of a few dead bristlecones, perhaps left over from another, now-extinct grove. We were here long enough that, while I was off taking photographs, the driver of the little car showed up again, this time headed back in the other direction. Darla and Lewis were at the camper so he stopped to say hello. Turns out he was from England; and the impressive manuever we'd witnessed earlier was entirely unintentional. He just wasn’t used to driving a vehicle with the steering wheel on the left side. He wasn’t too worried about the car though. It was a rental car.

Note to self: Never buy a rental car.

Dancing Bristlecone

Previous stop: Devil’s Postpile National Monument
Next stop: Sequoia National Park