“From the redwood forest …”*
On Saturday June 26, 2021, as we came into Crescent City and
found a campsite, the first thing we had to do was change clothes. When we crossed the state line into
California, two things happened: gas
went up $1 a gallon, and the temperature went down 30 degrees, from nearly 100
in Portland to the 60s by the ocean. It
was sunny, but we were told that was not usual.
Damp fog rolled in from the mountains and in and over the beach. Bright kites were flying at the shore - a neon-green
octopus, a purple squid. The campground
was crowded despite the high prices, and there were many older, beat-up looking
rigs, hippie types, and a couple of surfers, young women in wetsuits with many
towels festooned around their rig to dry.
A fellow camper alerted LCR to the problem of theft due to the large
homeless population in the area, and recommended we make LCR’s bike, which was
on a rack at the back of the truck, even more secure. We managed to move some things around and
find room for it inside the vehicle, which makes me feel so much better. From the camper next door, named Steve, LCR
learned how to take the front wheel off the bike, and after that it was
easy. The weight bench was removed from
the truck and shoehorned into the trailer.
Steve and his wife recommended several restaurants for
seafood, but we found they close at 7 pm – on a Saturday! Clearly we are spoiled, living in a big city,
but we had plenty of food in the trailer.
We both had work to do anyway and due to the inconsistent internet, that
took the rest of the evening.
On Sunday we lost nearly an hour because we got as far as the Visitors’ Center and I realized I had misplaced my keys. Been doing that a lot lately, and we could not let it go because of the aforementioned theft problem. We did get phone photos of a well-marked and easy-to-read map before we left, so when we went back and I found the keys, we had a good idea of where we were going. There is a national park as well as two state parks in the redwood forest area. We spent most of our time in the Jedediah Smith State Park. Hiking through the redwoods is just as awe-inspiring as you have heard. It is weird to be in a place with so many living things and yet experience such quiet. There were a lot of other visitors, driving through and taking photos, but a few feet off onto a hiking trail and we suddenly felt completely alone with the trees. It’s always semi-dark there. A carpet of pine needles turns out to be spongy and soft, very pleasant to walk on.
There is a lighthouse that we wanted
to visit, but the road to the hill where it is situated was under water. We were told the road can only be used twice
a day, during low tide, which had occurred at 9 a.m. that morning and would
come again at 9 p.m. There was a lack of
signage explaining this. I found out
from a woman who had been enjoying the beach on a folding chair. When I asked how we could know about the
tide, she almost said, “You have to be from here,” but stopped herself and
instead said, “You could check on the internet.” LCR took some beach photos but it was too
cold and windy for me. Everywhere on the
beach, over the next few days, we saw people strolling up and down the jetties,
going past large red signs saying: “Danger – Large waves at any time. Jetty unsafe for walking.” The National Park Service brochure also said,
“Never turn your back on the ocean.”
Large waves, called sneaker waves, can come up without warning and they
can be lethal.
We made like the locals and drove 45 minutes back north to
Oregon to fill the tank with cheap(er) gas.
Back in Crescent City, we found a restaurant that was open until 9
p.m. Called The Good Harvest, it
featured delicious, healthy cooking, locally sourced food, and local wines and
beers. We had a bit of a wait but passed
the time in conversation with two biker couples, from somewhere north – not
sure where, but they did mention the terrible heat wave. LCR had grilled red snapper with basmati
brown rice; I had a shrimp Florentine melt on sourdough.
One stop on the driving tour looks out over the Eel River at
an old abandoned railway trestle bridge.
The signs tell of a town called Dyerville which used to be a booming
stage stop. In the course of 30 years of
drought, the town was built closer and closer to the river. Then in 1955 a huge flood wiped out the town
completely. The bridge is all that is
left.
In this area, groves of giant redwoods are named after people - war heroes, or benefactors of the forest. One grove is named after Laura and James Mahan. They were members of the Save the Redwoods League (SRL). In 1924, after a logging company breached an agreement to stop logging in this forest, Laura put herself between the logging equipment and the trees, while James went to court to get an injunction. They managed to stop the logging long enough for the SRL to buy up the land, now part of the Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
John D. Rockefeller also donated millions to help preserve the redwoods, and a large area is called Rockefeller Woods. In this area there is a short trail, under a huge fallen redwood log and over a boardwalk, to the Big Trees Area. There we found the Giant Tree, as well as the huge fallen oval Flatiron Tree. Most people take pictures of themselves in front of the Giant Tree, and a family asked us to take their photo. They were clearly kindred spirits, wearing family reunion t-shirts with their name on the back and on the front, “Not all those who wander are lost.”**
In the presence of some of the oldest, largest living things on earth, I had to touch one, a relatively young tree a few feet in diameter. Redwood bark is not at all like you might think – it is soft, with a spongy texture that gives easily, and fibrous, like the outside of a coconut or old horsehair upholstery. Pieces that fall off look like untwisted rope or a part of a reddish-brown horse’s tail. The bark of the larger, fallen trees is harder but still light, and gives out a hollow sound when tapped, like cork.
We finished driving the rest of Avenue of the Giants in the
morning and continued on south through the mountains, with beautiful scenery
but slow driving. It seemed we spent a
lot of time backtracking and detouring.
We managed to camp fairly early in the day and spent quite a while just
relaxing. Travel is hard work.
Next, heading down the California coast.
*From “This Land is Your Land,” song by Woody Guthrie
**From the poem, “The Riddle of Strider,” in The Lord of the
Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien
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