This forest was truly amazing. It was magnificently old. You could tell that it had a sense of presence. It was a forest that knew how to wait, and enjoyed the passage of time.

It was named after it’s own seeds:

Of course, that is just the tiniest part of the forest. The forest has huge time-scarred trees.

These trees have learned to live in the hardest of circumstances. The rocks they grow in are not soft nutritious loam. They are rocks. And there is hardly any water.

But these trees learned how to roll with it. They grow as little as possible. Their philosophy was just to remain alive. Which they do. Better than any other living thing on earth.

When the wind and the freezing and the utter lack of water overcomes them, they let pieces of themselves die. And then the wood, which is super hard, stays and weathers the weather.

The forest was very hard to get to. It was very quiet.

The altitude was substantial, too. I had a hard time keeping my breath.

But I would love to go again.