On the way to Yosemite, I actually saw someone moving an entire house onto a truck for a "move."

We’re used to "buying a house = real estate," but here, a house can be uprooted and hauled away.
There are specialized "house movers" in the U.S. who lift wooden houses entirely, place them on steel beams and hydraulic trailers, remove chimneys, clear trees and power lines, and then tow them to another location.
It costs about $30k to move a wooden cabin.
"Real estate" in America can be moved.
Today, I want to talk about wooden houses and the pioneering spirit.
When entering the mountains, we were stuck for half an hour without moving; the driver said it was because they were cutting trees.
I asked, isn’t this a national park? Why cut trees?
The driver said that the wood used to build houses in the U.S. is almost all timber.
In 2024, 94% of new single-family homes in the U.S. are wood-framed, only 5% are concrete.
Wood is cheap, quick to build, doesn’t require many skilled workers, and is earthquake-resistant.
"Concrete is expensive to demolish and dispose of," he said, "but wood can just be burned or discarded."
"Now, waterproofing wood is very well done."
However, burning down a house in the U.S. requires asbestos inspection and reporting.
This "dispose of it when you’re done and hit the road lightly" attitude is very American.
Talking with American friends, they always mention the Frontier Spirit.
Americans’ individualism, self-reliance, spontaneous travel, and westward expansion are quite unique.
What truly made "westward expansion" possible is wood: in the 1830s, Chicago invented balloon framing, using 2×4 wooden studs nailed together to quickly build houses, so cheap they could be prefabricated and shipped west.
A wooden house that can be dismantled, burned, or towed away is essentially a pioneer’s mobile fortress—wherever there’s opportunity, they move their home there.
Now, the American West is no longer virgin land, but the frontier hasn’t disappeared; they’re looking upward.
Back then, pioneers used balloon framing and wagons to move their homes into the wilderness; today, Musk wants to use Starship to make humans a "multiplanetary species," with Mars as the next "West."
The language is the same—frontier, settlement, self-reliance, building a home where nothing exists.
So, California is a fascinating metaphor for me: its west is the Pacific Ocean, the geographic endpoint of America’s westward expansion, and Silicon Valley is the starting point for humanity’s upward and Mars expansion.
The frontier has no end; humans can start anew where there’s no cement, no logging sites.
The hotel I stay in is also made of wood, with a faint pine scent throughout, but the downside is that the soundproofing is really not great.
California’s wood is very dry, and it often catches fire because of the typical temperate Mediterranean climate—"rain and heat at different times," with wet winters and dry summers.
Winter (November to March) is the rainy season, with Pacific storms bringing snow to the mountains and rain to the valleys—almost all rain falls during these months.
Summer (May to October) is the dry season, with no rain, hot and dry, turning vegetation into tinder.
There are two types of wind.
The constant gentle sea breeze blows from the ocean to the land, cooling the coast and bringing moisture, so San Francisco’s summers are cool and foggy.
Mornings are often shrouded in a layer of sea fog.
The saying "I’ve experienced the coldest winter in San Francisco’s summer" is true!
In mid-June, I had to wear a light down jacket.
The hot, dry summers plus advanced irrigation make it a natural orchard.
California produces about 80% of the world's almonds, and delicious sun-kissed oranges🍊—everywhere along the way are orchards, with plums, cherries🍒, strawberries🍓, grapes🍇… covering flatlands and hillsides.
Many climbers come specifically to Yosemite; it’s a global mecca for big wall climbing.
Not just "a couple of spots," but El Capitan, Half Dome, Cathedral Peak, Sentinel Rock…
On El Capitan, there are legendary routes like The Nose, Freerider, Dawn Wall.
When I reached the foot of El Capitan, I realized how incredible it is—its granite face is about 900 meters high, roughly twice Taipei 101 (508 meters).
Alex managed to climb it freehand, without ropes or protection, just by hand, on the Freerider route—truly one of the greatest feats in human sports history.
A friend asked me: How is Yosemite?
It’s often called "the most overrated national park" because it’s close to big cities and gets many visitors.
I said: But the waterfalls are really beautiful.
There are many, all fed by snowmelt from the mountains—water from the Sierra Nevada—waterfalls that are 739 meters tall, often double-tiered.
Right now, in June, the flow is at its peak.
People are kayaking and rafting on the rivers, kids riding bikes—no one is on their phones, though maybe it’s because there’s no signal deep in the mountains😂.
But I prefer to think that California’s sunshine is just too good, so good that it makes people want to lift their faces up—maybe that’s how the pioneering spirit is born?
Houses can be towed away, belongings can be burned, and people can go to places with mountains, water, and sunshine…