Redwood Heaven

Redwood Heaven. That is what I shall call this time. Simply heaven.

I had one of my best traveling days on Tuesday, May 14th. I packed up the gear and  pointed Henry David across the park to Peg’s House, the restaurant/bar/store that serves this area. It is owned by two delightful people, husband and wife----Gary and Diana.

Diana has a long braid that goes to her knees. I imagine the hair almost reaches the ground when she unwinds it from the braid. They are THE PEOPLE in this area. They are friends with all the locals and extend credit to their friends and they are sponsoring the “Hickey Fest” in a few weeks---a major rock music weekend. This will be sure to attract the Harley riders in big numbers and should bring fun and some green stuff into the pub. There will be arts, crafts, music, beer, and---well, use your imagination.

They came outside to chat a few minutes and then, oh my gosh, they gave me a new solar panel charger. My original was not working right. Or I thought it wasn’t working right and I sent it home for problem solving at a later date. The problem with the original was quickly corrected in my mind once I read the instructions that this ultra model provided. This was a very generous gift to a total stranger.  Thank you, Gary and Diana!

So, if you go up the Redwood Hwy and pass Leggett, note “The Peg’s House” about a mile north of the junction of 1 and the 101. The owners are a great couple and run a great business. Btw, they bake homemade cookies and brownies every morning. They had just pulled out the biggest oatmeal cookies I had ever seen, hot from the oven and still sitting on the cookie sheet. I purchased one to go with my coffee. I bit off pieces of that cookie all day long. What a deal. Other cyclists gathered round the cookie sheet and it was empty in minutes.

Joe is a friendly man who does the horticultural maintenance and general helper at Peg’s. He has done some serious cycling in his life as well. You could tell, with his fit, wiry frame. He looked made for a cycle.

Not that I am wiry at all. But the serious cyclists tend to look that way. I still consider myself a pedal pusher. Not a serious cyclist.

While at Peg’s House, securing my gear, a local man named Jeff came by. He does maintenance work and we talked about the area--the weather, the land, the growing season, and part of his passion---the campground across the street in which I had slept the previous night. 

You see, the California state campgrounds are in dire straits. Even though immensely popular with campers and usually booked to full and overflowing all summer, there is not enough money to keep them open and they are closing left and right. The entire state is in deep, deep debt. The property taxes---while incredibly high---and the income taxes, and lodgers taxes, and good looks taxes (ok, that is almost a joke), are very high, but still don’t cover the expenses of the state. The land of milk and honey. For a few. The rest struggle. And live very simply. But there are schools and MediCal and welfare and programs that are losing funding because there just isn’t enough money. Go figure.

So, the Standish Hickey State Campground was closed by the state. Well, this means financial death to the area, as tourism dollars at least kept the restaurant going and some of the hill and forest folk employed. So, ever the resourceful ones, some of the residents in the area approached the state parks and said, “hey, we will run it for you!” So, they work with the state so that they understand about campground and area management, conservation, safety, etc. They maintain the park, collect the money, and keep the whole thing operating. In return, the state sends an occasional ranger to educate the collective running the campground.

Isn’t that just the coolest thing? I am grateful, because the campground was perfect. Bathroom by my camping spot; market across the street from the campground itself. Sometimes the campgrounds are a bit far from a store and I really liked having great coffee and a cookie in the morning!!!!

So, Jeff does a lot of land management with the campground and works to keep it in good shape. I liked him. He said he would give me a tour of the area if I ever come back. Nice guy.

Todd and Ginger showed up for morning coffee as well---apparently THE place for the locals. And the campers---all the folks I had met the previous day were getting their morning joe as well, so we all had a reunion of sorts!

I got on the road about 8:30 am. Somewhere around Benbow, I met Bob and Christine. These are 2 cyclists who have literally cycled the globe: Cambodia, New Zealand, Croatia, all through Europe and the states. They had just completed several months of cycling with their 11 year old daughter. They dropped her off (grandparents?) to finish the PCH tour to Seattle, where they were going to see Christine’s brother for his birthday. Christine is a beautiful and tiny little lady---”Small and Mighty” I call her. She has been cycling all her life. She cycles regularly from Tahoe, where they live, to Reno to visit family. This active little lady is a grade school teacher who took a sabbatical this school year, but will need to be back by summer to teach summer camp, and then class next year. Bob ran his own business but “quit”, with plans to resume and restart once they return home in June. 

They met when they worked for the park service in Florida. Bob was Christie’s boss. I kinda think the roles may be switched now. Just sayin...

They were a perfect well of information as well as an inspiration. Here are a few things I learned from them:

The Europeans take camping quite seriously. Their “campgrounds” have fully loaded kitchens, showers, shelters, and cabins and often cost close to $100/night. If you go to places like Cambodia, however, camping is only a few dollars and is what you expect from a campground: a spot to pitch your tent, maybe a pit toilet, maybe some running water. Or maybe just the spot to pitch the tent. But the local food is so cheap, your day’s cost may run only 2-3 dollars.

Skip the escargot, I’ll take the rice and the tent for 2 bucks!

Unless I’m with my lovely friend Truth, who teaches French. If I go anywhere with her in France, we will stay with one of her French friends in a chateau, and she can take me to her favorite spots for gourmet French cuisine. I better start saving.  When I get home...

The next lesson from Bob and Christine: the “Discrepant Event”.  This is a surprising, momentous, or at least “special” event that marks a moment and helps you remember other things that occurred that day. You might not remember what happened on the night on March 3rd, 1998. However, you do remember what you were doing on September 11, 2001!! So, if you want to teach a child, for example, preface and conclude the lesson with something remarkable. Christine prefaces a lesson on volcanoes by supplying the youngsters with cans of shaving cream so that they can make their own versions of volcanoes. Then the lesson begins. I imagined 25 kids having a blast with that shaving cream. Good, clean fun. I picture the kids making mountains, sticking their hands in the soft foam, maybe squirting their buddies. Hilarious. I will never think of volcanoes quite the same way now.

I think that is so incredible. Now, as a physical therapist, if I want someone to remember their home exercise program, maybe I should preface it by having them do 50 push ups in the clinic, teach them the very easy home program, and then have them run 2 miles on the treadmill. Maybe then they will remember to do their simple deep breathing and postural awareness exercises.

I think I’m liking this “discrepant event” approach!!

I then cycled along Avenue of the Giants, which is a quiet highway that fairly parallels interstate 101. Yes, on the 101, you can see the redwoods, but it is a 4 lane hwy with loggers, trucks, fast moving vehicles, etc. Along Avenue of the Giants, you are immersed in the trees. It is dark and shady and, honestly, I felt like I was in another world. Dark, mysterious, holy. I might meet a hobbit or one of those ancient trees might turn out to be an ENT. I stopped along the way in tiny burgs for a coffee or a restroom (OK, both simultaneously). The towns are tiny and some locales on the map turned out to be just a PO without even a tiny market or convenience store. 

I took a photo of myself standing in front of “Grandfather Tree” which is supposedly about 1800 years old. You can’t see the entirety of the tree--only part of the bark. To photograph an full grown tree in this area, I would have to stand way, way back. They tower overhead impossibly high. These redwoods are amazing. They are assisted in their growth by natural disasters like fires and floods. A fire in the giant redwood forest kills the undergrowth, lets in light, and results in a stronger tree. The bark can be burned but the tree lives on. Sometimes, environmental damage cause the tree to split at the bottom, leaving a tunnel. Or a fire carves out a mini cave, but the tree lives on.  Can be like some people I know: resilient, strong from adversity, merciful from lessons learned and life lived.

When you hug a tree here, you feel a pulsing energy: A quiet strength and ancient wisdom. Nothing like it in the world.

It broke my heart to see so many logging trucks over these last days. Logging trucks going one way; trucks with milled redwood planks coming the other way. 

I camped at the Burlington State campground. Again, a minimal $5 hiker/biker fee. There are usually just 2-3 campsites for the hiker/biker groups at the state campgrounds. So, I parked HD between another tent camper and an RV. The person/people in the RV remained inside their unit. The tent camper next door was named “John”, I believe. John, if I have your name wrong, I am sooo sorry!!

Neither of these neighbors were hiker/bikers. John had been traveling up the coast; he lives in Portland and is a retired businessman who loves the out of doors. He has been tent camping for about 10 days. He was set up, boy. Camp stove, pots and pans, cooler, electronic charging equipment, large tent, etc. He invited me for a sit by the fire, which I took him up on, later in the evening when it was dark and I was ready to eat my salad.

When I first arrived at the campground, I rapidly set up camp and then took a walk, sat by the Eel River and got misty eyed, and then walked some more. When I got back to camp, I did my exercise routine and, as I finished, John invited me again for a campfire visit. So, I acquiesced and we nattered for a bit by the fire.

John moved to Portland to be near his daughter and her family. He loves golfing and camping and being outside. He is lonely in his retirement; his wife of 45 years died about 6 years ago from atherosclerosis. He plays bridge once a week so he has that social outlet. But, although he has lived in Portland about 3 years, he has not found any golfing buddies. He golfs alone. 

John talked a bit about his political and life views. What gives him enjoyment: camping, being outside, and golfing. While he enjoys his family, he doesn’t feel they really need his attention. 

Oh yeah, he thinks cyclists are a nuisance. I resemble that remark.

John wants a companion. I have met many middle aged to senior men who want that---A special someone on whom they can bestow their attention and care. If you are a lonely woman of that same age category, honey, they are out there. Ready and waiting. Get your camp stove and get out there. 

This was a great day. Full of meaningful moments spent amongst the trees; comfortable exercise on HD; and interesting people who are traveling, camping, cycling, moving...Everyone with a story. Some of them quite beautiful and touching. All of them from somewhere deep in the heart.