On Sunday, October 27th, 2024, I woke just after sunrise to begin my hike to Kearsarge Pass. I wasn’t alone on the trail this time—several groups of hikers, including a few Asian-American and a gay couple with their dog, were also making their way up. I struck up a conversation with one of the hikers, and before I knew it, I found myself joining him for a spur-of-the-moment climb to Mount Gould, which rises beside Kearsarge Pass.
The climb was exhilarating—the wind was fierce, and at over 3,900 meters, we could hardly stand upright. It reminded me of the relentless winds of Patagonia. We made it up to about 20 meters below the summit before deciding it was too exposed to continue safely. Despite not reaching the very top, the views were beyond rewarding: countless shimmering lakes spread out below, framed by the vast valley beyond.
On my way back down to the pass, I had another surprise: I ran into a work colleague. He had recommended hikes in the area, but seeing him out here, on this specific trail, was a funny twist of fate—especially since it’s about a three-hour drive from Los Angeles.
After descending from the trail and driving back down into the valley, I made my way across to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, climbing once again to over 3,000 meters. The forest is home to the Great Basin bristlecone pines, the world’s oldest trees. Among them is the famous Methuselah, estimated to be 4,856 years old. The forest does not mark Methuselah’s exact location, to protect it from vandalism—but just being in its presence, surrounded by these ancient beings, was humbling.
I had the entire forest to myself that evening. As the sun set, bathing the pines in warm golden light, I felt a deep sense of connection to these ancient yet relatively small trees. There was something profoundly peaceful about walking alone among these trees, whose lifetimes stretch across millennia.
