Sierran Signage

3.5 miles out of Tuolumne Meadows on the John Muir Trail:


"You can hike ahead," we've told our kids, "but stop when you get to the signs." And off go the kids. When we meet up with them they are gathered round the signs which mark the way or announce the mileage. The kids are catching their breath. How many hikers over the decades have congregated around these signs while waiting for others? When we were young we'd stop at the signs and wait for my mom. When she arrived she would throw down her pack and collapse in a heap. "Ok, Mom's here!" we'd all say while jumping up and hoisting our packs, "Let's go!"

If you're lucky enough to hike in the same area more than once in your life, reaching a familiar sign can be like meeting an old friend. Hello. How are you? I have been here before.

At the signs, out come the water bottles and the M and Ms and the Power Bars. Somebody applies chapstick. Somebody scuttles off to pee. Somebody rustles through a pack in search of a bandana or a map. The older signs are covered with the rust of 75 Winters. The rust is flakey like a pastry, and when prodded with the tip of a hiking pole it falls to the ground and disappears into the pine needles. The signs lean precipitously and are supported by granite stones. They can be lifted and turned 180 degrees. Or 360 degrees.

The newer signs are smooth and metallic. They are lacklustre. But they still serve their purpose. They let you know that you've arrived, or that you aren't nearly there yet. They serve to orient you. Half mile to go. You are at 11,320 feet. You are here, in Kings Canyon. By the way, if you've brought your Golden Retriever to this point you should turn around and head back.

Entering Sequoia National Park at Siberian Outpost:

Selden Pass:

Other signs look like they were created by a Boy Scout who used the wood burning set he received from Aunt Rosie last Christmas. The sign is typically weathered like a retired park ranger's face. It may be screwed into a lodgepole pine branch which is buried into the ground. The branch smells like vanilla.

Sometimes there are no signs. Are we there yet? Did we miss the cutoff? Where are we? So, as we do in life, we just keep walking, trusting that we are on the right trail.