I Left My Heart in Tuolomne Grove

It hit me on Monday, as we packed up our stuff in the studio condo and got ready for the journey home, that our kids had never seen giant sequoias, and that something really ought to be done about this unfortunate state of affairs. We asked around and were informed by the rangers that our best bet, given our timeline and our route to the airport, was the Tuolomne Grove just off Tioga Road. So after bidding a fond farewell to our wonderful relatives and picking up a few souvenirs for our wonderful neighbors, we headed out in search of some big trees.

In order to avoid mutiny in the ranks, we were careful to bill this excursion as a walk in the woods, not a hike. This little stratagem was aided by the fact that the entire journey followed a dirt road, with short detours into the forest to visit the trees. The first one we came to wasn't one of the jaw-droppingly enormous ones, but it provided an inviting introduction to the whole giant sequoia concept:


It also reminded me of a story Simon and I heard from the Lummi storyteller at Camp Indianola, about the time Coyote was walking through the forest and he saw a big tree with a magic hole in it. As he watched, the hole opened up wide, and then closed again. And opened up, dark and inviting, and closed again.

Coyote thought, How cool would it be if I could get inside that tree? -- so the next time it opened up, he jumped inside. And the hole closed up behind him, and there he was inside the cool, dark hollow of the tree. The hole opened up again, and he jumped back out. Wow, he thought, that is awesome. He did it again, and again. But the next time he jumped into the tree and the hole closed up behind him, it stayed closed. Coyote was trapped inside that tree, in the dark. He got scared, and started to cry.

Then he heard voices outside the tree -- some birds had come along -- and he shouted for help. The birds tried to cut through the trunk of the tree with their beaks, but they couldn't do it -- the trunk of the tree and the bark of the tree were too tough. All except the woodpecker -- his beak was strong enough to drill a little hole in the side of the tree. So now coyote could see out through the little hole with one eye, but he still couldn't get out of the tree. "Sorry, Coyote," said the woodpecker, "I have to get home to my family." And away he flew.

Coyote sat inside that dark tree for a long time, trying to figure out how he could get out through that tiny hole. And it finally came to him. "If I take myself apart into little pieces, and push them out through the hole one by one, then I can put myself back together on the outside."

So he started taking himself apart.

He took off his toes and pushed them through the hole one by one. He took off his ears and pushed them through. He took out his eyeballs and his teeth and pushed them through. He rolled up his hide so it would fit through the hole. He took out his heart and his lungs and his stomach and pushed them through the hole. He took his skeleton apart and pushed his bones through, one by one. Pretty soon he was all in pieces, scattered on the forest floor under the tree, and no part of him was left inside.

Then he put himself back together again. He found his foot bones and attached them to his leg bones, and put each of his toes back on his feet. He fitted all his ribs back together and put his heart and lungs inside his rib cage. He found all his teeth and put them all back in his head. He unrolled his hide and put it back on. The only thing he couldn't find was his eyeballs. He crawled around under the tree, feeling all over the ground with his fingers, but he couldn't find them anywhere.

He heard someone laughing, and called out, "Who's that laughing at me?" He was mad. "Why don't you make yourself useful, and help me find my eyeballs?" It was the Raven, sitting up high on a branch of the tree. Raven laughed again. "Too late!" he cawed. "I ate them!" And away he flew.

"You ate them?" Coyote was really mad now. He wanted to go chasing after the Raven, but he couldn't see without his eyeballs. He started scrabbling around on the ground, trying to find something he could put in his eyesockets so he could see again. He found two little round pebbles and put them in his eyesockets, but he couldn't see anything with them, and they just rolled around and fell out again. He felt around some more and found a bush with big fluffy flowers on it. Maybe these will work, he thought. He picked two of those big fluffy flowers and put them in his eyesockets. He couldn't see anything, but at least they stayed in.

Just then, an old woman came along the path. Coyote heard her coming and called out to her: "Please help me!" But before he could even explain his problem, the old woman said, "Oh, no. I know who you are -- you're Coyote. This is probably another one of your crazy tricks. You're not going to fool me!" But then she looked closer at him, and said, "What on earth are you doing with those big fluffy flowers in your eyes, Coyote?"

Coyote thought fast. "These? These are my special Spirit Eyes; they let me see the Spirits. Oh look, there's one right there!"

"What? Where?" said the woman, looking around.

"Right behind you -- Oh, it's beautiful! Can't you see it?"

The woman looked behind her, but she couldn't see anything. She turned back and looked at him suspiciously. "Is this one of your tricks, Coyote?"

"No, no, it's the Spirits! They're dancing! Look, over there! And over there! Wow! I've never seen anything so beautiful in my life!"

The woman couldn't see any Spirits, but she sure wanted to. "Can I try your Spirit Eyes, Coyote?"

"Oh no, these are mine. You can't have them. No way. Besides, if I give you these, I won't be able to see anything at all!"

"Please, Coyote, just for a minute? I want to see those Spirits dancing. You can have my eyes while I'm using yours." It took her a while, but she finally managed to convince Coyote to trade his special Spirit Eyes for her own plain brown ones. And as soon as he had her eyes in his head, Coyote laughed and took off down the trail. "Goodbye, Old Woman!" he crowed. "If you hadn't refused to help me, I might not have had to play such a trick on you -- let that be a lesson!"

(Oh my. I didn't set out to tell you the whole story in quite so much detail, but it's such a great story, and... Well, I guess it's done now. So -- back to Tuolomne Grove...)

A little further up the trail was the Tunnel Tree, which you could pass right through with no danger of getting trapped inside.


When we found this fallen giant, we were definitely entering jaw-dropping territory:


It had a magical entrance at the root end


that took you right into the dark, cool hollow of the tree, where you could hardly see your hand in front of your face... until you crawled along to the place where there were a couple of holes.


We listened for the woodpecker's voice, but all we heard were cheerful Irish tourists milling around outside the tree. We peered out, trying to imagine what it would be like to take ourselves apart and push each little piece out through the hole. It almost seemed possible...

But a little farther along Simon found a slightly bigger hole, wide enough to fit through without resorting to self-dismemberment.


We all made it out, all in one piece -- or so it seems.


I can't speak for everyone else, but I'm still not totally sure I didn't leave a little piece of myself inside that tree.