bright lights, big city

“Once there was this little child
You know her I believe
Here’s who she is me ELOISE
And it is Christmas Eve.”

With the Blue Mountains still on fire, I spent an extra day in Tasmania and flew to Sydney on Christmas day. I considered extending my AirBnB in the hippest part of town until I found a great price for a venerable old hotel near the Opera House.

The Sir Stamford is everything the name implies: regal and old school, with service to match. My enormous room looks out on the royal botanical garden. They have 24-hour room service, including dim sum, and afternoon tea you can order for a picnic.

I feel distinctly like Eloise at the Plaza.

When I climbed up the hill from Circular Quay dragging bags full of Tasmanian salmon and sauvignon blanc, the hotel was in the middle of a lavish holiday brunch ($199, more than I paid for a night with breakfast). I passed and wandered out in search of an open restaurant, not an easy task on Christmas Day.

In addition to a small pool and sauna (conveniently down the hall from my room), the hotel also has a private art collection.

This is my favorite so far, even though it's hidden by a staircase near the day spa. They even have my grandmother's china in a cabinet on my floor.

Ferries to Manly and Luna Park leave  from right outside the door.

Today on Boxing Day, there was a giant eyesore: the enormous Ovation of the Seas in port. This is the same cruise ship that was at White Island off New Zealand 2 weeks ago and lost passengers in the volcanic eruption. I didn't realize they'd continued their voyage, if you want to contemplate a terrible package tour with no escape.

Downtown Sydney is vaguely historic, especially The Rocks, which is all spruced up for the holidays. 

Boxing Day was once known for leftovers, but in Sydney it's known for 50% off sales. I don't have any more space in my luggage, so I walked around the botanic gardens instead. 

They are pretty fabulous.

There are stands being erected for Sydney's biggest night, New Year's Eve. This is the view of Harbour Bridge from the gardens:

Plus you're surrounded by blooming flowers and giant fig trees.

This elegant bird is the Australian white ibis. They're everywhere in the park.

There's a whole section dedicated to palm trees, at least 50 different kinds, from elephant foot palms to date pals to skinny walking stick palms. And a Fernery, which notes a whole class of ferns has been named for Lady Gaga.

My last stop was the tourist info center at the Customs House, another elegant old building that's been retrofitted inside. In past years of Sydney's biennial, this atrium has been filled with art by Ai Wei Wei and Yayoi Kusama. Right now, there's a glass floor looking over a scale model of Sydney. 

Back at the hotel, I noticed their mascot is everywhere. Morris, the wombat.

Apparently you can borrow a Morris and bring him to the opera or to your room. They sell them too. Two of my great-grandfathers were named Morris, so I'll take this as another sign. (Did I mention how much I love posh hotels, and pretending I live here? I'd be sad to leave and return to ordinary life, except I'm excited about my next stop too.)

Take a deep breath. The year is almost over. We're just a little older, a little worse for wear.

What were you hoping for in 2019? What will you leave behind next week?

land of the giants

Some people are theists. I'm a treeist.

I should warn you, if you don't love trees, you should go do something fun, like finish your taxes.

But really, you should take a walk in the park. These are from Prairie Creek Redwoods, and the long, growing strip of Redwood National and State Parks.

Redwood forests are humid and filled with ferns. The air is cooler.

 Look up.

But also look down.

 Breathe deep. Enjoy the soft redwood chips on the trail under your feet.

This is the Lady Bird Johnson grove. Dedicated by Tricky Dick.

 Blue sky peeking through the fog, just over the hills at the beach.

Fallen trees support the growth of ferns and new redwoods. The cycle of life in the forest.

 This illuminated tree was magical.

The Corkscrew tree did not disappoint.

It's massive.

You can barely see the tops of coastal redwoods.

The bridge is uneven, but protects the marsh and your boots. Keep wandering, far from the sounds of civilization.

Although California has protected these groves of old growth redwoods, they represent a fraction of the millions of acres of trees that were once here and formed the basis of the timber industry.

You can see why redwood was valuable. Even 20 years ago, you saw a lot more redwood decks and furniture.

 Compared to giants, you may feel small. But never insignificant.

After all, they show their age in their bark.

The trees in the Lady Bird grove have been on this planet a long long time.

Future giant, staking out a claim.

redwood empire

I've been up in Ashland, visiting my old friends John and Jill Williams and enjoying the usual jam-packed mix of plays, wineries, chocolate, and hikes.

 

It's always hard to leave Ashland, Oregon's finest Shangri-La, but I loaded up my car with newly acquired vintage clothes, Rogue River Blue, Tempranillo, and marionberry jam and headed south along the coast.

Goodbye, manzanita. Hello, coastal redwoods, the tallest trees in the world.

Over Grants' Pass to California and onto Jedediah Smith State Park, along the Smith River, also named after him.

The weather was drizzly, as it often is, but that's why it's so green. Fallen redwoods provide a fertile base for the forest.

Moss-covered trees, like gloved fingers

Next stop, Battery Point, one of a series of lighthouses along the coast in Crescent City.

It was closed until spring, but the views were spectacular, and the sun came out for a minute.

Crescent City has suffered earthquake and tsunami damage, so the Army Corp of Engineers installed this ugly but functional concrete barrier. Doloes and tetrapods, indeed.

 Heading south, I ran across a herd of Roosevelt elk. There were at least 50, some with huge antlers.

They looked at me with curiosity. They must not be endangered: there were elk burgers on the hotel's dinner menu. (I had a juicy bison burger instead.)

Not all the attractions along the Redwood Highway are natural. Trees of Mystery is an old school roadside attraction. They have a fine collection of Native American crafts in a museum hidden in the gift shop.

Tomorrow: more hiking among the giants, including the Hyperion tree, which stands 380 feet. But only a few people know where it is.

Taking the slow road back to town. Don't forget to breathe.