|
We had passed by The Trees Of Mystery, just outside Klamath in the far north of California, on our way up Highway 101 to get to Crescent City. You could not miss the giant fibreglass statues of Paul Bunyan and his beloved pet, Babe the Blue Ox standing in the well manicured gardens of the car park to this roadside attraction. We were excited to visit. When we arrived, we took our time walking around the huge statues and acquainting ourselves with the story of Paul Bunyan, the famed giant, plaid-jacketed, big booted, lumbering lumberjack of North American folklore, and his pet Blue Ox, Babe. “He rode through the woods on a big blue ox, He had fists as hard as choppin’ blocks, Five hundred pounds and nine feet tall… that’s Paul.” ~Shel Silverstein    It was fitting that Paul Bunyan and Babe stood there welcoming us to the Trees of Mystery as the history and traditions of logging and particularly the carving of large hunks of wood into works of art was told as we walked along the interpretative trails. I was actually familiar with Paul Bunyan. In the movie Fargo, a carved, rugged statue of him is glimpsed covered in snow as the murderers pass through the North Dakota town in the dead of winter. In fact I can't think of Paul Bunyan without also thinking of one of my absolute favorite actresses, Frances McDormand, in her Oscar winning role as Marge Gunderson in the movie. You betcha! I am also familiar with the iconic "Muffler Men" molded out of fiberglass, inspired by Paul Bunyan, that stand in gas station forecourts along my beloved Route 66 and other slightly decrepit byways in North America. Originally, the first 'Muffler Man" was created to carry an axe, appropriate for Paul Bunyan, but later the axe was replaced with the giant fiberglass man holding a muffler, tire, huge wrench or some other car related object as an advertisement to draw customers off the road to take a break from their journey, stop for some food and for some car maintenance. You can read more about the "Muffler Men" in my Route 66 photographic journey through Arizona. You may need to scroll down until you arrive at the Flagstaff photos and the pics of the giant men. Check it out here. Once upon a time the original folk tales Of Paul Bunyan began with American loggers sharing exaggerated stories around cosy campfires of a giant axman who could fell tall trees with a single chop. Their tales became embedded in to local lore, bringing awe and appreciation to the hard logging work they did across America, with their own sweat, spit and bare hands. The loggers' stories of Paul Bunyan, strong and handsome with a chiseled jawline, over seven feet tall, with a stride of seven feet in length, striding across the plains, through the forests, doing the work of many were passed down, mouth to mouth, in the honored tradition of folk tales. According to their stories Paul Bunyan carved the Grand Canyon with his axe, created the Great Lakes as a personal drinking bowl for Babe, and if you keep a careful watch, you might be lucky enough to see Paul Bunyan riding Babe like a cowboy. Oh yeah! At 49 feet high, the statue of Paul Bunyan at the Trees of Mystery is the tallest statue of the folklore hero in America. The stuff of legends!  We made our way to the trails and spent a happy day meandering through the wide variety of trees, almost like a tree exhibition, crowded together for our enjoyment. One of my favorites was the ancient giant Redwood named the Brotherhood Tree. It is one of the largest and oldest living things on the planet. It was named in hope for the brotherhood of man. It is over 2000 years old, 19 feet in diameter, 60 feet in circumference and 297 feet tall. Wow! We were awestruck standing next to a living entity that had been growing for much of recorded human history. We also enjoyed the Candelabra Tree, Elephant Tree and Cathedral Tree. Henry spotted Bigfoot, banana slugs and a giant mosquito. I loved the "I love you" sign.
 We had enormous fun bouncing our way along the 100 feet high aerial netted suspension bridges and platforms in the canopy of the Redwoods. Of course Henry and Kim jumped as high and hard as they could (as if they were in a lift!) on the ropey bridges to make us all jiggle and giggle. Even the kids were laughing at us! Fun! 
Henry grabbed my phone and took these lovely, flattering shots. Anyone else have a family member who takes daft pics?
Next we headed for the Skytrail where we took a gondola up the forested hillside, about 1/3 of a mile and 1,570 feet up, through the tallest of trees with a spectacular view at the top where you could see the Pacific Ocean glinting in the distance and incredible views of the Klamath River and back country. At the summit there was an observation deck called Ted's Ridge, where we took in the panoramic vistas.
We finished the day touring the most amazing Native North American Museum. After the Heard Museum in Phoenix, this has to be my favorite museum of tribal artifacts. It was truly incredible. More about the museum in my next blog post.
This was a memorable day and once again, the trees were the stars.
0 Comments
The morning mist lazily moved ashore, settling like a sullen ghost upon the virgin forest. Ancient Redwoods with loose, green moss frocks rose out of the grey shadows. Sitka Spruce and Western Hemlock stood watching, serious soldiers on guard duty. Douglas Fir shivered in the mist, shaking water droplets on to the damp forest floor, lush with vegetation. Silver skinned Alders bowed over as if to drink from the nearby Creek. A lone stag wandered before us, antlers aloft. Rings of small white mushrooms completed the fairy tale imagery. And so we began our Jurassic Journey into Fern Canyon located in the Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. The damp vertical canyon walls of Fern Canyon rose above the gentle flow of Godwood Creek. We could see many varieties of moss and tanoaks growing from the walls. The whole place felt old and timeless. The canyon got its name from the unique growth of five different species of fern that thrive in the dense damp conditions; five-fingered fern, lady fern, sword fern, deer fern and chain fern. These ferns, older than dinosaurs, were the original oxygenators on the planet. You could imagine the first creatures with lungs breathing in the air made by these astonishing, primeval plants. Through the mist, we hiked over rickety wooden bridges, jumped across narrow parts of the Creek, found stepping stones or fallen trees on the wider parts as we traversed back and forth making our way through the canyon trail. The air was cool and wet and green. The ferns were incredible and seemed to surround us in all dimensions. Not surprisingly, Fern Canyon was the shooting location for the Star Wars movie, "Return of the Jedi." It was the home of the little furry Ewoks portrayed as living on a distant moon called Endor. As we were walking on the trail, it felt like we were on some distant moon in a far flung corner of the cosmos and would perhaps encounter primitive furry alien beings at any moment. It felt like the further we walked into the canyon, the further we were walking back in time. Jurassic Park II was also filmed in Fern Canyon. If we couldn't stretch our imagination to little Ewoks, we could certainly stretch into believing dinosaurs roamed freely through the canyon at some time or another in its history. What a glorious place!
We spent a restful day at the trailer after our arrival in Crescent City as we had spent the entire previous day traveling through Humboldt County, through Eureka and then up the northern Californian Coast to Crescent City. Kim was tired. We were all tired. Refreshed, the next day we set off to explore the Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park. Jedediah Smith of "Night at the Museum" movie fame. Haha! We headed out on our friend the US101, skirted past the Kings Valley Golf Course then took the twisty turny road to the US199 that ribboned through tree tunnels of towering, ancient Californian Redwoods. These humongous trees seemed so much older and wiser than the Redwoods we had seen previously in Felton, just outside Santa Cruz. They were somehow taller, straighter, more watchful, a little greyer and bearded with tangled mosses of greens and browns and greys. Your mouth couldn't help but drop open in sheer wonder at the magnificent beings. Our first stop was at the Simpson-Reed Trail, just off the Walker Road. We were genuinely stunned and humbled by the Redwoods. It was a short 1 mile trail but it took us well over an hour as we stopped and stared, photographed, breathed in the intoxicating scent of the dense wood, and hugged the red giants. We even stopped and watched a wedding photographer take some bridal pics at one point on the trail. It was magical to stumble across a fairy princess in the forest! We could hardly believe our eyes! There was one tree with a knobby base that felt like it was at the heart of the trail. It was especially tall and especially ancient. I felt it had stories to tell. I leant in really close with my ear gently pressed to the fibrous husky outer bark so that I could hear the tree whispering to me. I heard stories of longevity, the close ties of beloved family within the grove that were all taken care of and nurtured in the most beautiful community of love and reciprocity. Most of all I heard the whispers telling me to trust nature, its indomitable spirit and its unerring will to survive. Jeff Probst himself would be impressed with these magical trees and their ability to outwit, outplay and outlast. Survivors to the impressive core. I left feeling like a load of worry had been taken off my shoulders after listening to the trees. The tribe had spoken.
We returned to the truck then continued through the thick Redwood forest until we came upon the delightful Smith River which we followed as it snaked its way through the trees. We stopped at the Hiouchi Visitor Center for cancellation stamps and a toilet break and then set off again crossing over the Smith River then back tracking, heading towards Howland Hill Road and the Stout Grove Trail. Winding our way through the giant trees, with the sun weaving rays of light down to the dirt road, was unbelievable. It was a drive I will never forget. Once we arrived and parked at Stout Trail, we set off under the shady canopy of the Giant Redwoods. As soon as we began the trail, a kind of hush came over us all as we moved intrepidly down the path. Some trees had been toppled and we got to see the surprisingly shallow root system that entangled and tethered each tree both to the earth and to its family of trees nearby. Once again we breathed in the glorious scent of the Redwoods. It reminded me a little of a cross between Pine and Yew trees, but honestly, how can you accurately describe a an intoxicating smell? The trail was again only a mile or so, but it took us a long time, as we continually just stopped and stared up at the giants, mouths open in awe and respect. Every now and again, we would stop and silently hug each other. It was a seriously spiritual experience. We lost ourselves in time. We completed the trail in awe and eventually circled back to the truck. We began the off-road journey along the rest of Howland Hill Road through the Grove of Titans and past the Boy Scout Tree, kicking up dust behind us. The road was so narrow and the trees and roots so close to the truck that we had to tuck in the wing mirrors. We all held on to our collective breaths and shrugged our shoulders in tight to make it through the tree gaps. It was a "clench your bottoms we're in for a bumpy ride" moment, a bit like Harry Potter's journey on the triple decker Knight Bus in the Prisoner of Azkaban. It was magical. I did manage to get some video footage and as impressive as it is, it still does not do the journey justice. This was a treasure of a day that will be ingrained in my mind and lodged in my heart forever. Unforgettable.
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!  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.
There are only a few places on this beautiful planet that are inextricably linked with a single person, to the point where you cannot even think of one without thinking of the other. They are energetically entwined and bound with the fine, silky threads of deep respect and utter devotion. Mount Everest and Sir Edmund Hillary, The Lake District and William Wordsworth, Gombe and Dame Jane Goodall, Walden Pond and Henry David Thoreau. For Yosemite, it is the naturalist, John Muir. No one has described the vast beauty of Yosemite, championed for its protection and impressed upon the world the necessity of such a place to reveal the connection between man and nature, like John Muir. If you have been to Yosemite, you know that words just cannot do it justice. It is nature's cathedral. It is a place that has to be felt and experienced. A place to bow down in reverence. So of course, I have to begin with some descriptive words written by John Muir himself to describe this spectacular National Park. “The famous Yosemite Valley … includes the head waters of the Tuolumne and Merced rivers, two of the most songful streams in the world; innumerable lakes and waterfalls and smooth silky lawns; the noblest forests, the loftiest granite domes, the deepest ice-sculptured canons, the brightest crystalline pavements, and snowy mountains soaring into the sky twelve and thirteen thousand feet.” The drive at dawn to the park from our campsite just outside Groveland was twisty and turny with panoramic vistas, sharp drops and skeleton forests burned to the bones, trees like living zombies standing tall, black at the roots and ghostly gray at the tippy tops. In the early morning mist it was a little apocalyptic. Through the tunnels, then down in to the valley, we stopped and started to take in the sights of Bridal Veil Falls, the Merced River, the looming gray sentinel that is the fearsome granite El Capitan, the sharp edges of the Three Brothers and then Half Dome, like a huge ship with its stone sail at full mast, sailing down the valley in the distance. We parked and set off for a short hike to Yosemite Falls. Henry and I had come prepared, wearing our swimsuits, ready for a dip in the icy waters. Because we had arrived so early we were amongst the first to be at the Falls and we had a good hour to ourselves at the pool where the Falls gather in a deep overflowing granite basin before their final tumble down to the valley floor, feeding the lush meadows with fresh water. Our time at Yosemite Falls is already etched in my memory. Henry's huge grin and utter joy of being right there in the moment, in the glorious sunshine, with the spray of the waterfall hitting his face, scrambling over the rocks and taking a dip in the icy pool, was exhilarating. I will remember our time there forever. Finally, at lunchtime our grumbling tummies dragged us away and back to the truck where we had our picnic lunch near the Visitor Center and of course we got our National Park cancellation stamps. In the afternoon we hiked out to Half Dome, past the Ahwahnee Hotel, along the Merced River. We tried to spot the intrepid hikers heading up the rounded granite rock to the top on the 18 mile round trip via the Mist Trail, a feat completed by my brother-in-law Simon many moons ago. The long day hike now requires a National Park permit. What an incredible view of the valley there must be from the top! I did watch several YouTube videos of the demanding hike, so I could get a glimpse of the panoramic view. Seriously, words cannot express the magnificence of this colossal National Park. I tried with all my might to view it through the eyes of John Muir. I not only wanted to see its timeless beauty but feel that deep soul connection with nature in my core. I believe I did. These photos were taken over several days in the Park. 
 Henry and I spent an awesome morning ziplining through the towering Redwoods at Mount Hermon Adventures. Altogether we shuffled across two long, wooden suspension bridges and zipped across 6 lines to platforms suspended 100 feet high up in the canopy of the forest. Sunlight filtered through the treetops in rays of tiny dancing dust motes giving the forest an ethereal, magical glow. Below us the gentle creek babbled its way through the reddish trees, the delicate ferns and the sweet smelling sorrel. We zipped along, bringing up our feet, planking, singing, dancing, waving and ballyhooing in joy as we whizzed down the lines. Henry and I couldn't stop giggling at the fun of it all. We made friends with a couple from the Bay Area. Henry said I missed some good bits because of my "yappin'." Ha! Exhilarating, adrenaline-inducing fun!   It was lovely to catch up with my dear soul sister, Heather. She lives ever so close by and we could not pass up the opportunity to meet for a hug. We chatted by the river, under the redwoods at the campsite and later we had a delicious family dinner together. I wanted to hear all about her family and of course all the details on the epic Taylor Swift Eras Tour as well as all her recent concert news, (she's a music maven). She brought gifts as a thank you for our recent adventures in England; a fab California State Park Pass and a folklore friendship bracelet. Both already beloved. I forgot to take an "ussie" (Ted Lasso reference!) of us both, so here is a pic from when we were in Zion. Blissful evening. Love you Heather xxx
We arrived early afternoon at the beautiful Santa Cruz Redwoods RV Park which backed on to the San Lorenzo River and the Henry Cowell Redwood State Park in Felton, California, about 7 miles uphill from Santa Cruz. Nestled amongst the impossibly tall and straight Redwoods, we set up camp. Waking up every morning to the towering Redwoods was both comforting and awe inspiring. I felt peaceful and protected. The smell of the trees was truly intoxicating. Bliss! We took our time to explore the Redwoods on our doorstep including a beautiful hike amongst an ancient grove of Redwoods at the Henry Cowell State Park, a morning trip on the Roaring Railroad, a narrow gauge steam engine through the trees, and on the edge of the state park we found the tallest covered bridge in America surrounded by the Redwoods, crossing the San Lorenzo River in Felton. 
The coastal redwoods are the tallest species of tree on the planet. They are immense. Their bark and heartwood is a reddish brown, almost husk like. Their trunks seem to grow up tall and straight for miles. They self prune lower branches so they look lean and leggy. The Giant Sequoias are like Shaquille O’Neal, tall, heavy, broad and with huge feet, whereas the Redwoods are more like Kobe Bryant tall, gloriously fit and healthy, rangy and true team players as they live in rooted communities where they live symbiotically sharing water and other resources to keep the entire grove healthy. They adore the coastal mists coming in off the Pacific and they take in as much water through their leaves as they do through their roots. Meeting a Redwood is like meeting Methuselah. The Redwoods can live for up to 2000 years, but more commonly live between 500 to 700 years. They are LIVING, first hand witnesses to the incredible human story that has unfolded since Jesus was alive. Mind blowing!!! Amongst the giant Redwoods, Henry loved finding banana slugs, the largest land slug in America and the second largest in the world. On our hikes, we spotted a good few of the bright yellow slugs, native to the cool, damp coastal forest floor, at the feet of the Redwood giants. One morning we got up early to walk the river from the camp site and had a little game of skimming stones. I was rubbish but Henry could make those stones jump! Being in the Redwoods was transcendent. It was a total sensory experience that I will never forget.
|
AuthorLaura Barnes is a retired educator. Mostly she loves books, travels and mischief. She dabbles in writing. 
Archives
March 2025
Categories
All
|
RSS Feed