Ladies and gentlemen, the two main attractions of my long
trip both defy description: the Grand Canyon and the mighty Redwoods. At first, as I made my way from Berkeley to
Leggett along Route 101, aka the Redwood Highway, I thought that the grandeur
of the trees has been overstated. I saw
some Redwoods and, though pretty, they were not exactly something to write home
about. I headed out from my most cozy
lodgings (Stone Gate Villas, a nice place) with some trepidation. I was afraid that I had traveled many hours
for a myth. Boy was I mistaken.
There are probably more unspectacular Redwoods than
spectacular ones, but the competition is close.
You certainly have to travel far enough north to see the big ones, but
it is, as much as I may have worried—it is indeed worth the travel.
First I drove through the Chandelier Tree, which was
beyond cool. And then I bought a bunch
of stuff made out of California Redwood at the gift shop by the tree. It’s the best gift shop in the area as far as
I’ve seen. Afterward I walked a little
bit up the paths around the Chandelier.
This is where I first fell to my knees.
There’s a poem by the Chandelier that urges humanity to fall to its knees
in awe of the Redwoods. I thought the
poem and sentiment to be nice, but just a poem and sentiment; I was not
expecting to, or even thinking to, drop to my knees. Really I had no other choice. The size, the height, the age, the silent and
unspoken wisdom of greatness, all were too much to handle for me. And it seemed like every direction I looked
there was another magnificent elder waiting to impart its strength to me. I just had to touch them and pray.
I didn’t think that the experience could get much better,
but I decided to drive through the Avenue of the Giants anyway. Boy was I glad I did so. Grove after grove of huge trees by an
unsuspecting river. At one point I tried
to hug one of the bigger ones and found that it felt like I was leaning against
a wall: my arms weren’t able to bend much at all. Some of the trees had fallen over, and those
might have been the best. You can then
climb on top of them and walk their length or see the giant hole where the
greedy roots took had once taken hold.
“How in the world…” I couldn’t stop asking. My knees and hands were getting rather dirty
by the time I parted from the Founder’s Tree near the end of the Avenue.
Whether the Redwoods are the work of God or of a chance
process of nature, I don’t much care.
All I know is that it’s hard not to be in the presence of these trees and
be inspired to greatness, both as a person and as a struggling writer/artist,
or struggling whatever. Unless you are
absolutely destitute and starving, I’d imagine that your problems will suddenly
seem like nothing in the face of the football field-tall Redwoods, some of
which have been alive since Christ walked the earth; or, more commonly, since
before Rome was sacked; or, far more commonly, since William the Conqueror
invaded England. Most of these trees
were already massively massive when Jamestown was founded, or when Napoleon was
defeated at Waterloo, or when the 49ers first established their namesake.
Unbelievable.
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