A Walk in Muir Woods
Aug. 18th, 2020 09:07 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
forestofgloryRecently we took a trip to Muir Woods. It’s an old growth redwood grove that’s generally very hard to visit because it is very popular, and doesn’t have much parking. I think the last time we were there was when friends from the UK visited us, many years ago. Due to the pandemic fewer people are traveling and they have instituted a reservation system for the parking limiting the number of guests. So R made a reservation and we planned an expedition.
I had been struggling that week, having a hard time focusing and feeling sad and distant from the world. So I was harboring some thoughts about being swept away by the majesty of nature, even though generally I’m critical of the myth of wilderness. The idea that some places aren’t impacted by humans is silly and harmful. It erases ways that the landscape is and has been impacted and makes us over value some kinds of landscapes.
Muir Woods is very much not Wilderness. Signs of people are everywhere. Informational signs, trails, hikers, boardwalks, fences, salmon restoration projects And the landscape is impacted in ways that are not obvious at glance by the human history of the place. One sign mentioned that there had not been a fire in Muir woods for 150 years. This major change from the pre-Eropean fire regime and a major way humans have impacted the landscape.
It’s hard to talk about humans impacting the landscape without seeming to downplay the grandeur of nature. But both can be true at once. I love the grandness of the old trees, the way they rise above me when I walk among them. But I also appreciate the signs that tell me about the ecology and history of the place, the paths to walk on, the restored salmon habitat. On my visit I was not swept away by the majesty of nature, but I did enjoy being surrounded by beauty, and know that other humans had work to preserve it. It felt special just the way it was.
I had been struggling that week, having a hard time focusing and feeling sad and distant from the world. So I was harboring some thoughts about being swept away by the majesty of nature, even though generally I’m critical of the myth of wilderness. The idea that some places aren’t impacted by humans is silly and harmful. It erases ways that the landscape is and has been impacted and makes us over value some kinds of landscapes.
Muir Woods is very much not Wilderness. Signs of people are everywhere. Informational signs, trails, hikers, boardwalks, fences, salmon restoration projects And the landscape is impacted in ways that are not obvious at glance by the human history of the place. One sign mentioned that there had not been a fire in Muir woods for 150 years. This major change from the pre-Eropean fire regime and a major way humans have impacted the landscape.
It’s hard to talk about humans impacting the landscape without seeming to downplay the grandeur of nature. But both can be true at once. I love the grandness of the old trees, the way they rise above me when I walk among them. But I also appreciate the signs that tell me about the ecology and history of the place, the paths to walk on, the restored salmon habitat. On my visit I was not swept away by the majesty of nature, but I did enjoy being surrounded by beauty, and know that other humans had work to preserve it. It felt special just the way it was.
