At Grit Overland, we designed the Link 148 for one purpose: to go anywhere, in any season. It’s a four-season adventure van built to handle the harshest weather, the most remote terrain, and the most spontaneous road trip ideas. Why? Because we believe adventure doesn’t stop for winter.
Our customers don’t either. Helge and Lisa are a perfect example—true explorers who recently ventured into one of the most serene and powerful van life winter destinations: the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest. This is their story, told in Lisa’s words, about a timeless journey into the heart of California’s White Mountains—where solitude, silence, and the world’s oldest tree await.
Solitude and Sanctitude in the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest
We were having so much fun last year on our December trip to California and Nevada in our Grit Link 148 van, we wanted to share some of our adventures. This one was all about ‘me’. Just outside the town of Big Pine, California, tucked away deep in the White Mountains of California and within the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, lives “the world’s oldest tree”, Methuselah.
Ever since hearing about this incredibly ancient tree in high school (40+ years ago), it’s been on my “must see” list.
Arrival in the White Mountains
You can imagine my rising excitement as we turned off Highway 395 and away from the gorgeously snow-encrusted Sierra Nevadas, heading east on Highway 168 until reaching White Mountain Road. Following the signs to the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest, we arrived at the Schulman Grove Visitor Center in the afternoon, ate a late lunch, and due to time, chose one trail out of the three—the Discovery Trail.
I could tell you all about the amazing trees on this very short (1 mile) trail, but let me save the intricate details about these incredibly resilient trees for the next day, when we went on the Methuselah Walk.
Gnarled Beauty and Rugged Adaptability
Suffice to say that when you are with a photographer, time becomes elastic, and what you think will take you 30 minutes may take 2 hours. Helge had a field day shooting gloriously gnarled and spiky trees, and I marvelled at not just their swirling beauty but rugged adaptability, too.
But the afternoon was getting late, and we decided to look for a remote spot to spend the night.
Winter Camping in the Bristlecone Forest
After a hair-raising drive through a snow-choked section towards the far end of the park and a very chilly and windy night (more about that later in another blog), we were ready to hit the road after breakfast. The morning air felt crisply brittle and jagged in my nostrils—its clean sharpness both refreshing and a bit painful.
Destination: back to the Schulman Grove Visitor’s Center where we would hike the Methuselah Walk. No other cars were there; we had the entire wilderness to ourselves! This is what van life winter destinations are all about.
Hiking the Methuselah Walk in Snow and Silence
Stepping onto the snow-packed Methuselah trail, the chill bit through my layers, and I wondered how Helge, with no thermal underwear, was faring. Yes, he was cold, so we kept moving briskly along a path of younger trees that bore little sign of the ravages of time their older kin had long suffered.
Up, up, then down, serpentining from one side of a mountain to the ridge, dipping from welcome sun and dry footing back into deeply shadowed bends packed with snot-slick snow and ice, rising over to another ridge to do it all again. After a few icy, sheer drop-off bends, we kicked ourselves for not bringing our walking poles, which were stowed in the van. Duh!
While Helge was lightly tripping along the path, I was panting like bellows at 10,000’. Gradually, we became surrounded not just by immense trees but by a silence so profound it felt like the primordial sound of the universe. No bird call scraped through the frozen air, no planes or jets overhead to scar the sky with contrails or the muffled roar of their engines. Do you realize how incredibly rare silence is? It was like the sound of gravity and holiness all at once. It was very much like the feeling I had inside the Ste. Chapelle cathedral in Paris.
The Presence of the Ancients
We gawked up at these almost painfully contorted giants, their tree tops bare sinewy upraised arms of split grain, battle-scarred jagged wood, freeze-dried, wind-whipped and polished to a satiny sheen—some dull nickel gray, others still retaining streaks dark as strong tea.
Below these tortured spires, craggy branches of defiant green proved the trees were alive. Trunks battered by brutal winds twisted like taffy, spiraled upward, back in on themselves—some laying at a slant, held fast, refusing the will of the wind. These trees had found their way.
Roots surged with a muscularity like enormous anacondas, rippling in several directions and grappling for the very center of the mountain, scaling around boulders and up steep slopes to find purchase in the dour chalky earth. The ruggedness, resilience, and life force of these ancient bristlecone pines was carved into my brain. It made me think about how adversity in our lives shapes who we become.
Meeting Methuselah
While each tree, so uniquely shaped by the elements, had its own story, the one whose story I had heard was just ahead. It took a while to find it as I hunted around the base of many trees in the area where our app said it was located until I finally found a small metal tag.
On December 31, 2024, Helge and I got to meet Methuselah. It’s not every day you get to meet the record holder for longevity, and here we were, with the world’s oldest tree. (4,600 years old by some accounts, 4,856 by Wikipedia’s.) It was selfie time!
If not for the tiny tag, I would never have known this gnarled and shredded survivor won the title. Yes, there were bigger, more grotesque and wizened-looking trees with more arms beseeching the heavens. Methuselah certainly wasn’t a standout in that way. It was a silent star for doing what it does best for the longest time: survive.
Its location isn’t announced, as the park wants to ensure the survival of this wonder. I can understand that. As a teen, I had heard stories of people actually breaking off pieces of it for souvenirs.
Reflecting on the Experience
I confess, I don’t recall much of the trail or trees after meeting Methuselah. I did come away with a very profound yet quiet joy to be in the presence of living things that predate the Pyramids of Egypt and much of recorded history.
Amidst these resilient and resplendent giants, what is a human life or lifetime? There have been times in my life where Nature has left me feeling puny and insignificant (being out on the Pacific Ocean and not seeing land for days, walking through the Sahara Desert where I saw not another living creature besides my guide and two camels). This was another one of those times. And I’ll always cherish it.
Ready for Winter, Built for Adventure
The Link 148 made this unforgettable trip possible. Even in below-freezing temperatures and snowy, high-altitude conditions, it gave us the warmth, safety, and confidence we needed to explore the most remote corners of the Ancient Bristlecone Pine Forest.
If you’re dreaming of a road trip into solitude and wild beauty, this place belongs at the top of your van life winter destinations list. And if you want a van that can handle it, look no further than the Grit Overland Link 148.