Kim took this incredible photo of me and Henry walking in amongst the giant Redwoods on the Stout Grove Trail in the Jedediah Smith State Park.

​What an experience!

After an unplanned detour due to fires, we headed to our eighth stop on our Grand Adventure, Crescent City, California. On the way there, Henry began reading the reviews of the site we had booked and learned there had been several thefts, break-ins and some vandalism reported. So, on the fly, we cancelled that site and booked a new site, while we driving towards Eureka. Very last minute! Thankfully we hit the jackpot with Lighthouse Cove RV Park in Crescent City. It was literally right on the beach and the views of the bay and the lighthouse were fab.

​Still in California, but right on the border with Oregon, our plan was to explore the Redwoods National and State Parks in the region.

Henry adored the site and spent most of his afternoons on the beach on his phone chatting with friends, picking up rocks and shells and watching the seals surf in the waves, so close to shore you could see their dark pool-like eyes, twitching whiskers and smiley faces. I am so glad we changed sites and stayed on the beach instead.

We set off to explore the town of Crescent City, basically to find a launderette and a grocery store. It was all over very quickly as the town was tiny. The sea front road to the lighthouse was all torn up due to road work so we bypassed that and meandered around the streets. We found a Safeway and I spotted a tiny movie theater next door to it, which I stored in my memory as I knew the new Taylor Swift Eras Tour Movie was coming out soon.

I am a total Swiftie!

From the boat we plodded up a very steep slipway in the rain towards a rickety old bus. We boarded and drove up a very narrow road that was cut into the side of the cliff, maneuvering around tight corners, a hair's breadth from toppling down the cliff and crashing into the lake about 70 feet below. I could not look and held my breath the whole way up! Kim and Henry said the view of Lake Shasta and the surrounding mountains was spectacular.

Thankfully, it was a short journey up the hill to the entrance to the caverns. 

Made of an unusual local limestone in which we could see embedded and preserved fossils of marine flora and fauna, telling the history of the area being underwater 270 million years ago, the entrance to the caverns was through a nondescript doorway that led into an ancient passage way fit for Indiana Jones. The cavernous adventures had begun!

We were immediately struck by the otherworldly beauty of the limestone formations. Huge stalagmites and stalactites, flow stones, snowballs, formations that looked like streaky bacon, sprawling natural sculptures forged over thousands of years, underground lake mirrors created a mystical experience. Considering it felt like an Indiana Jones adventure, we were relieved there were no snakes, however we did see a lot of tiny bats and heard the scraping noises of blind salamanders.

Formed by the movement of tectonic plates pushing the limestone up out of the earth over 200 million years ago, we moved from one  cavernous room to another. The caves were known to the local Winto Native American tribe who used them for sacred rituals and ceremonies, most probably involving music as the acoustics were incredible. The cathedral-like caverns were over 120 feet tall. 

Our oohs and ahhs echoed around the chambers.

It was a breathtaking experience to be in the "Lost Kingdom" of the Lake Shasta Caverns.

There are three waterfalls on the McCloud River by the small town of McCloud, California; McCloud Lower Falls, McCloud Middle Falls and McCloud Upper Falls.

After getting lost in the car park at the Lower Falls Trailhead which is almost ridiculously impossible to do, and then walking a good mile in the wrong direction, we finally made it back to where we started and found the trailhead to the Lower Falls, a couple of steps away.

Kim and Henry wish for me to put in a disclaimer here...

I solemnly swear that I was up to no good.  It was me, Laura Barnes, and me alone, that led us in the wrong direction. Henry clearly said he could hear the waterfalls in the opposite direction. Kim clearly said he knew we were going in the wrong direction. Alrighty then. Mischief managed.

At the Lower Falls the McCloud River tumbled through moss covered rocks, ferns, and overhanging trees in a beautiful picturesque-picnic setting, cascading into a deep pool of clear water where we could see the fish swimming in shoals. A fisherman stood on the banks and we saw him catch a flip-flopping rainbow trout that was as big as his forearm. Even from the distance we were standing we could see the trout's pink and green iridescent coloring and its silvery underbelly. The fisherman immediately packed up and left, happy with his catch. Henry had fun dodging all the bees as there must have been a hive nearby. He is paranoid about bees following him, so Kim is always tickling him on the back of his neck with a long stick and frequently makes buzzing noises. Family fun!

Next stop, further upstream, was the Middle Falls. The cascading water from the narrowing river brought the drama! The mist created lots of rainbows in the air which added to the magical atmosphere. We hiked down to the bottom of the tall falls and we had fun playing in the pools and clambering over rocks to get a better view. Not so many bees at the Middle Falls but plenty of dragonflies!

Lastly we stopped at McCloud Upper Falls, at 50 feet, the tallest of the three waterfalls. It was a hidden gem. With a single sleek drop, splashing into a horseshoe shaped pool, it felt private and intimate, a natural wonderland in the heart of the Shasta-Trinity Forest. We hiked down the river and around the rim through the fragrant pine forest, catching glimpses of the pristine wilderness beyond.

Although these waterfalls are not protected in an official Californian State Park, they. absolutely should be. The three waterfalls were stunning!

As part of Henry's mission to visit every National Park in America, we set off to visit Lassen Volcanic National Park in California. Heading south on scenic Highway 89 we stopped on the way at McArthur-Burney Falls Memorial State Park. We couldn't miss visiting another waterfall, they seem to be everywhere in this region!

After driving miles and miles on roads lined with Ponderosa, Lodgepole, Sugar, Gray and Western White Pines and the occasional domineering Douglas Fir, we crossed the gorgeous bright green Lake Britton bridge and turned off onto a shady tree lined lane, arriving at the State Park nice and early.

The park itself is geologically located in the Cascade Range and Modoc Plateau region of Sisikyou County, created by volcanic activity that you can see in the black and basalt peaks, and gradual erosion from the weather, especially seasonal ice melts, and many rivers. The park's centerpiece is the 129-foot Burney Falls, which is not the highest or largest waterfall in the state, but is certainly the most dramatic that we have seen so far on our travels. The water originates from underground springs emerging to create Burney Creek and then flowing at the rate of 100 million gallons a day over the falls and then in to Lake Britton.

It was a warm day and butterflies were everywhere. We walked the short hike from the car park to the impressive falls. The falling water cooled the air and we could feel the spray on our faces when the gentle breeze blew it in our direction. If we'd have had more time we would have stayed all day exploring the trails, but this was just a quick stop on the way to Lassen.

After driving another hour or so through more idyllic California meadows and pine forests we finally turned into Lassen Volcanic National Park and immediately stopped for a lovely lunch of sandwiches and crisps on the banks of Manzanita Lake. Cheese and Branston, thanks for asking.

We then continued on to explore the park with a loose plan to hike Bumpass Hell, the heaving, panting and bubbling geothermal area, most popular with day visitors. Circling around the ice topped Lassen Peak at a lofty 10,456 feet tall, we stopped at rivers, meadows and the trailhead for a good look at the impressive peak itself. We stopped at some bubbling mineral-rich mud pots and steaming features beneath Brokeoff Mountain. Henry had never seen anything like it. The underground, active volcanic activity creating an environment where the earth was literally letting off steam. 

At the Visitor Center they were preparing for the Annular Solar Eclipse that would be visible at the park on September 14th. We picked up some postcards for my Dad, a metallic staff medallion for Kim's new walking stick and of course the cancellation stamps for our National Park Passport books.

We stopped to marvel at the mountain lakes that were impossibly clear and seemed to be absorbing the light into their deep blue/green water. Summit Lake, Emerald Lake and then finally parking up at Lake Helen. After admiring the lakes we set off to find the trailhead for Bumpass Hell.  

Just visiting a place called Bumpass Hell was exciting! We wondered what to expect! It sounded like a place where Gordon Ramsay would hang out and angrily cook wild beasts with his bare hands on an open fire, shouting obscenities to anyone who happened to walk by. In fact it turned out to be an area of surreal geothermal features brought to the surface from the park's deep volcanic roots. Lassen is the only National park with all four types of volcano; plug dome, composite, cinder cone and shield and the superheated molten rock just below the surface was evident at Bumpass Hell. It was a seething, steaming, hissing hydrothermal landscape full of hot springs, fumaroles and even more boiling mud pots. The colors were stunning.

We really fell in love with Dunsmuir, so Kim and I set off to explore more of the little town, located about an hour north of Redding, California.

I had never heard of the town before, but I was aware that my dear cousin Pippa was in touch with the local Mount Shasta Goddess Temple and was astonished to discover it was located in Dunsmuir. I had to find it! Having visited Glastonbury in the UK so many times and enjoyed its spiritual vibe, especially Glastonbury Tor that is believed to be the heart chakra of the world, I was excited to delve deeper into the history of Mount Shasta, believed to be the root chakra of the world, and connected energetically to Glastonbury.
 
Kim and I sauntered through the town, most of which seemed to be shut down for the season, peering through the windows, enjoying the murals and the honest, down-to-earth sense of community. There was a huge art gallery filled with excellent work in various mediums from local artists.  

Of course we found the home of the Mount Shasta Goddess Temple at the Sacred Well Metaphysical Store. I explained my cousins connection with Yeshe and the Temple to Albert, the kind gentleman behind the counter. He made us feel very welcome. Of course I had to buy a moon shaped obsidian crystal that just called out to me. 

​A lovely low key afternoon. ​

Autumn is a cosy time of year.

Its a time for woolly socks, long scarves and pom pom hats, pumpkin spice laced goodies, patched cardigans and patterned tights, misty morning breath, slow falling leaves, all things plaid, foggy windows, fireplaces and sheepskin rugs, maple syrup candles, dogs in costumes, rich colors of hunter green, mustard yellow and muted maroon, curling up with a Colleen Hoover paperback, fresh baked batches of cinnamon cookies, pine cone collections and of course snuggling up to loved ones. So, in the spirit of Autumn, we set off to Hedge Creek Falls in Dunsmuir, about twenty minutes south of our campsite in Weed, California.

The waterfall was in a magical, fairy forest filled with wood nymphs whispering of wolves and woodcutters. Dancing orbs of light dodging and weaving through the colorful trees played naughty tricks on one another, laughing with glee. Underfoot, pine needles mixed with acorns fallen oak leaves and discarded wands. The waterfall itself poured into a grotto that was intimate and mysterious. Of course I was immediately spellbound.

On further exploration, I found I could walk behind the waterfall in a cave filled with the muddy hand prints of Red Riding Hoods and Snow Whites. Echoes of transformations and witchy wisdom from bygone eras filled the enchanting space. I was enchanted as the water toppled over the rocks above and pooled in the light bedabbled stone basin below.

We walked through the magical woodland in search of fairy circles, toadstools and secret kisses.

I hope you are enjoying a fairy tale Autumn as much as I am!

We headed inland and to the mountains for our seventh stop on our Grand Adventure to the tiny town of Weed in Siskiyou County, California. ​

Now that cannabis (also known on the street as marijuana, dope, pot, grass, mary jane, doobie, bud, ganja, hashish, hash, and of course weed) has been legalized in most states, including California, this little mountain town has become something of a reluctant Instagram legend.

Tucked under Mount Shasta and its sister mountain Mount Shastina, the charming little town has embraced its name with souvenir shops selling T-shirts, baseball caps, fridge magnets and other cheap tat plastered with "I ❤️ Weed" to passing visitors.  We usually pass on souvenirs but could not help giggling at the name and so we bought a couple of items. Henry and Kim also popped into the local dispensary (also known on the street as the dispo) to make a purchase. Since the legalization of cannabis for both medicinal and recreational use in most states, the industry has boomed!

​Our fridge magnet ❤️

With a population of only 2,700 people, the town was cute as a tiny button. A small visitor center, a welcoming arch advertising the mountain town's name, a few competing cafes and motels and an agricultural museum telling the history of the lumber industry in the region that stretches from the 1800's to modern day. The town itself was not named after any association with cannabis but with a lumber baron named Abner Weed who took advantage of the winds howling through the area to set up his business. The wind helped with the felling of trees, moving cut timber and assisting in the drying process. Located within spitting distance of the I5 Interstate and on the Southern Pacific Railroad line, Weed was perfectly located on transportation routes.

Over the years, as logging practices have evolved and environmental concerns have grown, the lumber industry in Weed and in the surrounding area has changed. I noticed that the economy appears to have shifted away from chopping down the trees and more towards protecting them with a noticeable trend towards tourism, outdoor recreation and conservation. The natural beauty of the area was clearly its main attraction.

Kim and Henry were happy to take a rest day, so I set off on my own to visit  Muir Woods National Monument, about 30 minutes from our campsite.

When I set off it was a clear and sunny day but by the time I got to Mill Valley, I found myself driving through thick, gray fog. Winding roads took me up, up, up and then down, down, down to the valley floor and Muir Woods, a preserved sanctuary of ancient redwood giants.

Spanning 554 acres, Muir Woods is a living museum of ancient coastal redwoods that was first established in 1908 by the esteemed naturalist most commonly associated with the preservation of Yosemite, John Muir.  His tireless advocacy and effective powers of political persuasion to protect enclaves of redwoods and sequoias from the Sierra Nevadas all the way to the Pacific coastline has been a gift for all future generations, one  that I got to enjoy on my day out.

It felt like a pilgrimage.

I took my own sweet time to commune with the trees, listen to their prayers and bow down to them in reverence. Truth be told, they seemed pretty cheerful. They seemed much more concerned about the destruction of the human species than with their own destruction. They seemed at peace, serene, content. Quietly steadfast, enduring and resilient, much more so than us human beings. How can these noble trees possibly survive the relentless uptick in man made climate change, carbon emissions, pollution in the air and water banks, urbanization and other selfish actions of the humans sharing their regional ecosystem? The message I received was to soothe my immediate worries. I tuned into a deeper truth; the planet will survive, the redwoods will survive, however the survival of human life is much more uncertain and precarious. While I was praying for the redwoods, I was astonished to find that they were praying for me.

The stoic redwood giants stand by and watch the gradual (inevitable?) self-destruction of mankind,  just as they have done for millennia. 

We should listen to their wisdom.

A trip to San Francisco is never complete without the obligatory trip to Pier 39 on the Embarcadero. 

And a trip to Pier 39 is never complete without feeding your gob full of hot buttered garlic crab served on a vast piping hot platter at the legendary Crab House. The food is one of THE BEST things about San Francisco and the Crab House has been a favorite of ours for many years.

After a slap up lunch we mooched around the pier then strolled past Fisherman's Wharf down to Ghirardelli Square for an ice cream sundae dessert, then, feeling completely stuffed, we watched the turnaround for the cable cars on Beach Street after which we walked up the hill, puffing and panting, to walk down the twisty-turny Lombard Street. Fabulous!

On the way back to the trailer, we stopped for more photos of the Golden Gate Bridge from Fort Baker.

The pics do all the talking!