South by Southwest - Week 4: Trees and thoughts of home

October 11, 2025

When we planned this trip, I admit I was unprepared for how deeply our government would have decended into authoritarianism. Although I don't overestimate the impact of the individual impact of my resistance in Charlottesville, I still felt guilty for checking out for almost two months as federal troops began brutal operations in American cities and ICE continued arresting and disappearing people. Shouldn't I stay home and support those fighting for democracy and standing up for vulnerable neigbors? Possibly.

But this trip has been an opportunity to visit little-known parts of this country and be reminded of its diverse cultures and history. Traveling to National Parks during the federal government shutdown has reinforced the importance of the work the federal government can do when it isn't busy terrorizing its people. Visiting the grave of farmworker organizer César Chavez reminds us of those who have fought long and successfully before us. Someone said that opposing authoritarianism is not a sprint; it's not even a marathon. It's a relay, allowing for periods of intense activity punctuated by rest, reflection, and learning. I hope this seven weeks of relative disengagement will help to equip me for the work ahead and Charlottesville and elsewhere.

This week has been our most disengaged of the trip. As we crossed Nevada, climbed into the Sierra Mountains in California, and dropped down into the Mojave Desert, we've been without cell service most of the time. Our campsites have been remote, with no news, little communication, and only an occasional text that slips through in the middle of the night. We've communed with thousand-year-old Bristlecone Pines and Sequoia Redwoods, hiked through canyons and deserts, dipped our feet in icy mountain streams, and followed the trails of animals we seldom see.

Yosemite from the east was a bit overwhelming, with narrow mountain roads that threatened (to my slightly acrophobic mind) to hurtle us into the abyss around every hairpin turn. We spent the second day there in the Yosemite Village, getting up close and personal with El Capitan and other famous landmarks. Wednesday found us out of the park and in the Central Valley, where much of your produce comes from. "Laborers Needed" signs in Spanish reminded us that many agricultural workers have been arrested, fled or are in hiding, leaving fruits and vegetables rotting on the ground. An orange grower we met said it's been particularly hard on the larger growers, who count on large numbers of returning, skilled workers to get in their crops. We went back up into the hills to King's Canyon and Sequoia National Parks, also precipitous, but with more trees to hide the dropoffs. Coming out of Sequoia, we stopped for ice cream in Three Rivers, where a young woman told us about a free camping area ten miles up a side road. This is now officially the worst road we have ever attempted in the van, and the reason we decided to stay at the (very nice, stream-side) campsite for two days before attempting the return trip. Not only did the road cling to the cliffsides by its fingernails, it was narrower than one lane and rutted and split by water channels. Halfway up, a truck quite a way ahead turned around and headed toward us, paused, the door opened, and a gunshot rang out. There was nowhere for us to turn around as it came closer. My heart in my mouth, I smiled at the driver, who grinned and said he'd just shot a buck! His wife excitedly told us she was the one who spotted it.

This weekend, we began heading east again, generally toward home. We have three weeks left, and will spend them in Arizona and New Mexico before winding through Texas and back to Oklahoma. The second half of any trip is bittersweet, with more behind us than ahead, but I'm beginning to itch to get home, too. There's work there to do, and people we love and miss.

In the pictures below, I realize that much of our week has been about trees: ancient Bristlecone Pines, statuesque Ponderosas, abundant fruit trees, giant Sequoias, and resourceful Joshua Trees. Not a bad metaphor for the long view.

Yosemite is a park that truly inspires awe and wonder.

Yosemite view

Fire-scorched forest are part of the natural cycle in the west.

Giant Sequoias dominate the hushed forest.

A tiny forest dweller scampers across the trunk of a giant fallen tree.

The scary road outside Three Rivers

The beautiful Kaweah River at the end of the scary road

Remember when Trump "solved" the California forest fire problem by releasing water upstream? Water that never reached the fires, but flowed out into the Pacific? Water that was needed for agriculture in the Central Valley? The Kaweah Reservoir was one of those water sources. The water level should be as high as the building in the upper left. It won't be able to begin refilling until mountain snow melts in the spring. Such a waste.

Orange groves in the Central Valley. Nothing would grow here without irrigation.

César Chavez's home and gravesite – opened as a National Monument in 2018.

We happened upon the Rio Tinto borax mine in the Mojave desert and toured the visitor center displays about the many uses of boron-based minerals. This is the word's second-largest borax mine after one in Turkey, and provides a third of the world's supply. (Google how many uses there are for borax.)

Our campsite tonight is up another treacherous road through the canyons of the Rainbow Basin in the Mojave desert near Barstow. Narrow, but beautiful – and not scary.