Description
I have lived in South Lake Tahoe for 17 years now. I arrived when I was an obsessed boulderer, and everything I saw in the landscape was through the lens of climbing. We refer to battling through the dense understory as ‘bushwhacking’, and this was a necessary evil for the discovery of most new boulders in this area. Manzanita bush splays out long, twisted red limbs which follow the contours of rocks like a sea creature, concealing much of the forest floor with a multitude of small waxy leaves.
The fire exposed vast swathes of space between trees and boulders, a peculiar experience. I can’t hear the rustle of unseen creatures, or feel the quickening sense that maybe a bear or mountain lion is watching me from a hidden place. Naked black manzanita arcs over the rocks, like arthritic fingers from a Grimm fairytale.
Suddenly, light blooms through a burnt sapling, russet needles hanging on to black branches. Difficult not to be reminded of the majesty of fire, echoing. There’s a strange beauty is this surreal place, and in this silence and radiant light I can forget the loss for a moment.