No. 725 – Simple Lessons

Performer: Candlebox

Songwriters: Peter Klett, Bardi Martin, Kevin Martin, Scott Mercado

Original Release: Lucy

Year: 1995

Definitive Version: None

When I find a new band, I tend to stick with them a little longer than most who jump on a bandwagon. I bought Candlebox’s debut album like everyone in 1993 (1994, actually), and I was one of the few who bought Lucy, the followup, in 1995.

Lucy came out just before Debbie and I took our first real vacation together in the fall of 1995—to Northern California. I hadn’t been since my high-school graduation trip in 1982, and one of Debbie’s best friends lived in Sacramento, so we made her place our base of operations for Debbie to show off some of her favorite places: Napa, Carmel, Yosemite and Tahoe.

I was particularly excited to go to Yosemite for the first time, and I was even more excited to see my first Sequoia. We were going to spend a couple nights in Oakhurst near the South entrance of the park, and just inside the entrance is the Mariposa Grove, which is a large collection of redwoods.

The drive to the grove is a windy two-mile jaunt up the side of a mountain, and I was noting the increasing size of the trees as we went. When we were about the grove, on the right side of the road was a gigantic Douglas fir that was about three feet across. I had never seen a tree that was so tall and so broad that wasn’t a triple-trunk tree that had grown together, and I went on and on about it. Wow, that tree was huge, blah, blah, blah.

And then we came around the bend to the entrance of the Grove. At the entrance, the road makes a hairpin turn to the right, and in the notch of a hairpin is a redwood that was at least three times as wide. Oh … My … God … (So much for the Douglas fir.)

In the parking lot is a large group of redwoods and a few single trees scattered about. Back then you could go up to the trees (they’re fenced off now), and I ran over to one to give one a hug—my arms weren’t even close to being halfway around one side of the tree.

It was an overwhelming experience. I couldn’t believe that something so big was alive. It’s also a very humbling experience. If you ever feel like you’re the master of the universe, go and see one of these trees. It’ll rearrange your perspective in no time flat.

We hiked around for a while, following a path that winds up a hill to various named trees, such as the Grizzly Bear, which has limbs that are larger than the trunks on most trees; and Bachelor and Three Graces. Debbie snapped pictures left and right, because I had to stop at every tree. There’s one of a long-dead fallen tree that has a root spread that’s about 15 feet across. Another fallen tree had been cut to allow hiking access, and you could see the rings.

The picture at that tree is one my favorites. It’s me holding my fingers about two inches apart to represent my 31 years on the planet—and I’m being engulfed by the rest of the trunk, which probably had more than 1,000 rings, maybe 1,500, maybe even more.

After that, we drove into Yosemite Valley, which is nothing short of magnificent, of course. But after my experience with the redwoods, it really was just another set of scenic rocks; it was like the outdoor equivalent of having The Jefferson Airplane follow The Who at Woodstock: How in the world are you going to follow a transcendent experience?

But it still was cool to see things I had read about—El Capitain and particularly Half Dome. Unfortunately, the park was doing a controlled burn over by Half Dome on this day, so it was constantly shrouded by smoke on an otherwise perfectly sunny day.

But on the way out back to Oakhurst, we drove up to Glacier Point, which gives you a view of almost the entire valley. (You can’t see El Capitain.) Now THAT was impressive.

And, like the Mariposa Grove and that first redwood, it’s another vista that sneaks up on you. You’re surrounded by trees until you’re at the peak—and then you’re almost looking down on Half-Dome with this yawning expanse in between. It is awesome in the original sense of the word. With the setting sun behind us, we took some pretty amazing pictures, which isn’t saying much. You’d pretty much have to try to take a bad picture to take a bad picture at Glacier Point.

Finally, before it got completely dark, we headed out of the park, which is about an hourlong drive to go 30 miles—you can take the winding drive down the mountain only so fast, considering you’re on the outside lane and there are no guardrails to protect you from the occasional 1,000-foot drop.

And when we had dinner that night in Oakhurst, I had another first-time experience: sushi. I never had it before—not from disgust, just a lack of opportunity, although I’m pretty sure I wouldn’t have tried it if offered when I was, say, 20. But I trusted Debbie, and I had a piece of her salmon and tuna, and it was awesome in the hey-cool kind of way and not the holy-crap-will-you-look-at-the-size-of-that-tree kind of way.

After Yosemite, no food could ever truly inspire awe.