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.