Patty and I stopped by the Monterrey Lone Cypress in 1977 when she was a cold war warrior.

She's probably reading this and thinking, "I was that skinny once?!"

Sixteen years later, in 1993, a buddy and I went cross country skiing into the sequoias looking for the General Sherman tree, the world's largest tree at 6000 pounds and 220 years old.

Jonathan was dwarfed next to the roots of one of these big guys fallen over.

We had to leave the trail to find the General and at one point Jonathan stopped in a mountain meadow to have his picture taken. As I was putting my camera away, I glanced up to see Jonathan taking off his skiis.

"No-o-o-o, Jonathan, don't take off your skis, you'll... I yelled, just as he sank almost up to his waist. I knew this would happen in deep meadow snow from my own experience sinking a snowmobile at night in the Rockies.
I pulled him out and we skied on, naturally being lost for a while, wondering if those large paw tracks were bear, and finally found the tree named after the general who made Georgia "howl" and then wired Lincoln, "I beg to present you as a Christmas gift the city of Savannah".

Two down, eight to go.