Hi Gram!

I was a little nervous as I turned out of their driveway and headed for the coast. I was so excited on the way there that it didn’t occur to me, but as I wound my way along the river, I was all too aware that I was miles from cell phone service and I was driving roads that were lucky to see any cars from day to day. Each minute I drove further away from Orion and Robin, I was doing the math of how many miles I would have to walk, uphill for quite a bit, before I got back to them or found civilization in the other direction. The urge to drive fast through each curve was tempered by the fear of hitting a slick patch and careening off into a ditch. I was distracted from this mental tug of war by the sun shining through the lush growth all around me and the almost unreal beauty of the river to my left and forest to my right. I was almost to the coastal highway when I saw an old covered bridge on a side road leading to a boat ramp. I took a quick detour for some pictures, walked down to listen to the babbling water and watched the fishermen off in the distance.

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Back on the road, I drove along highway 1o1 along the coast. Like many of the roads I’ve been driving in the past few weeks, it led me up a hill, then down to the coast, along the water’s edge, through little port towns, then inland through fields and forests. The skies were overcast, with a strong wind and a light drizzle making everything look like an old painting of a fisherman’s struggle. Along the coast, the surf was crashing mercilessly against the shore and I didn’t see a single boat braving the waves, although I found out later at lunch that some captains were foolish enough to try. I passed through a milling town with lots of hotels and shops to support the industry. Along the road, there were thousands of logs, some piled higher than a house. I even passed a mountain of sawdust, bulging through the chain link fence along the road and topped by a backhoe that looked like a little toy compared to the tons of sawdust. I stopped for gas a couple hours later, where the gas attendant suggested a place down the road for some lunch.

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I walked into the Superfly Distilling Co, sat at the bar and looked over the menu. It was obvious by their specialty that they only expected working men to eat there. I couldn’t even eat half, but I knew I’d never see something like that meal again. It was two 10″ tortillas, each filled with fries, chicken, sausage, beans, rice and cheese. I felt like a tiny child trying to eat a taco, but it was worth the experience. I was joined by a fishing captain sitting next to me. He told me that he’d gone down that morning to take the boat out since it was the first day of crab season and most of the harvest was caught in the first few days. He started out onto the water, but quickly realized the wind was too strong and the waves were too high for them to be able to make any progress. He owned his modest boat outright, so he was able to turn around and head back to safe harbor, content to head to the bar instead of risking his life. He knew some other captains who couldn’t play it safe, though. They’d had a good year and decided to grow their operation. They took a loan out on huge vessels and shiny new equipment, but that meant they had to work no matter what to make their payments. While he was safe and warm, they were cold, getting battered and thrown around in deeper waters hoping for some luck to bring in enough of a catch to pay their bills. I wished him well and headed on my way, eager to find a hotel for the night. My drive took me through a forest of redwood trees along the coast, and I finally stopped in Fortuna, CA where the Avenue of Giants, full of giant redwood trees, begins.

In the morning, I headed to the lobby for the hotel breakfast surprise. Some hotels barely serve cold toast and stale coffee, while others set out a feast for their guests. This establishment was toward the latter end of the spectrum with scrambled eggs, french toast, sausage, fresh orange juice, and oatmeal. The tables were setup in such a way that everybody was looking toward the center, staring at one another. It was enough to encourage conversation and I got to talking with the other guests who were hungry. One gentleman was driving a truck up the coast from San Francisco into Oregon and had stories of getting his truck through the narrow roads. Another guy was a rancher on his way down to Arizona to take care of his mother. One girl was just down on her luck. She’d just moved to the area a few weeks before, planning to start school. She settled into an apartment then headed back home for a couple weeks before the semester started. When she got back, she found a pipe had burst and showered the place the whole time she was gone. Her furniture was ruined and the walls were covered in mold, so the landlord had put her up at the hotel. On top of that, her car wouldn’t start that morning. She asked if anyone could offer her a jump, and I offered to get her going. We went to push her car back out of the parking spot so the jumper cables would reach, and when we opened the hood, I found that her battery posts weren’t tightened down. We wiggled them a little, and her car started right up. I told her to drive straight to an auto parts store and told her what parts she’d need to solve the problem.

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I packed up the car and headed toward the redwoods, excited to see such massive trees. Let me tell you, they didn’t disappoint! I grabbed a brochure describing some of the trails and stopping points and made my way down the road. Luckily, there was barely anyone else there as I crept along in my car looking up at the giant trees, some of them thick as a car, all lumbering over me like the giants that they are. There are parts of the forest where you hike in to see the trees, but this area was setup for the lazy American tourists who just want to drive through and see everything from their cars. I was enjoying seeing trees so close to the road, but I pulled off at the first trailhead so I could walk into the forest and see them up close. I locked the car and started down the trail, which was listed as a 2.4 mile loop and mostly flat. With nobody around and the sun filtering in from above, I felt like I was treading where dinosaurs had once roamed. I came up to a fallen tree, apparently a popular spot for pictures since the top was worn down and there was a worn path leading up to it. I climbed up on top and walked to the other end. It was probably 2-3 feet wide, enough to be a regular trail, except it tapered off at the end and I found myself standing 10-15 feet above the ground below, looking down from this log.

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I found my way back to the trail, and wandered along, awe struck at the natural beauty. I saw trees that had fallen, their exposed root ball twice as tall as me, trunks that had fallen across the path with a section sawed away to let visitors pass through, trees that had fallen but caught up on a standing tree, leaving a giant leaning over the path, threatening to fall and change the plans of anybody caught below. I looked back over my shoulder with no idea of how far I’d gone or which direction I came from since the path had wound back and forth around the trees. I really felt alone; no other people around, no sound of the highway in the distance, no garbage cans or signs or any sign that civilization had ever been here. I came to a fork in the path, with a tiny wooden sign that indicated I’d gotten to the loop. A bridge was to my left and the path continued to my right. I decided to go to the right so that when I came to the bridge, I wouldn’t keep walking around the circle forever. I noted that when I came to the bridge, the fork would be just past that and I could find my way back to the car and civilization. The path lead me past more magnificent trees, winding back and forth. A stream ran alongside the path for a bit, then wandered off. There were trees that had been split by decay or lightning, and trees that started as individuals and merged a few feet off the ground to form a giant trunk. I wandered along until I saw the bridge up in the distance and almost slowed down, not ready for this adventure to end. As I crossed the bridge, though, I didn’t see the fork up ahead. I kept walking as the path wandered past some trees I hadn’t seen before. I was confused at first, wondering if I had missed the turn back to the car. I eventually realized that it was just a different bridge. The bridge that I was expecting was still up ahead. I kept wandering, mostly certain that I’d just crossed a different bridge, but wondering in the back of my mind if I’d accidentally found a wrong turn and would be strolling through the forest into the night. I rounded a bend and was so very happy to see the bridge up ahead! I quickened my pace to get there as soon as I could, curious to see if this was really the bridge I was looking for. I crossed the bridge and saw the little wooden sign and broke into a smile. Civilization, or at least my car, was a marked distance away. I slowed my stroll to savor every tree and log on my way back, and soaked in the rest of my hike. As cold as I was when I started the hike, the pace and sun had warmed me up and I shed my vest and sweatshirt as I got to the car and headed for the next stop.

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I decided that it would take too long if I stopped at every trailhead and hiked through the woods, so I passed the next couple of stops as I drove slowly down the road and marveled at my surroundings. I stopped off at a clearing and found out that a town had once stood there. The river below, which looked more like a trickle now, had once raged through, flooded fifty feet higher than it was today, and swept away the buildings and roads that once made up this small town. I drove up a one lane side road that snaked back and forth along the face of the hill, always leaning to one side or the other to try to catch a glimpse of what was around the bend, only to turn around after a few miles where the road had been washed out. I saw a marker pole showing where the river had flooded thirty five feet above. I stopped at the visitors center and chatted with a nice older couple who were volunteering at the counter and walked through the small museum there explaining the history and animals found in the area. I saw a slice of a redwood trunk with markers showing the rings of when the roman empire fell, the printing press was invented, the declaration of independence was signed and other historical events. Finally, I stopped at a roadside cafe near the entrance and had a delicious bowl of soup.

The sun was starting to set, so I set my GPS to Santa Rosa, the next stop on my adventure. I listened to some music and thought about how enormous California is as I found my way to a hotel for the night. I checked in and dropped my bags, then headed out to grab a quick dinner before passing out, exhausted from such a day. In the morning, I worked on my computer for a while, then met up with my friend Yosha and his fiancee for brunch. We ate at an eclectic little restaurant named “The Three Spinsters” after the sisters who’d lived in the rooms upstairs their whole lives. I was going to head to Lake Tahoe after that, but they were getting pounded with seven feet of snow and the roads were closed for the day. I decided instead to head down to Oakland to see my friends Leah and Aiken for a few days and try Lake Tahoe when the sun was shining. I’ll tell you all about that next time!