Adventure 156: Humboldt Redwoods State Park/Post B

Adam

Lucky for us, we got a nice ride in yesterday. A fierce wind storm passed through during the night, toppling small trees, ripping limbs from trees, and shedding pine needles like confetti all over the roads and trails. It carried with it some considerable moisture as well. As a result, we've decided to cut our time short by a day or two in order to find some dryer weather. Since it was raining today, we took a 'Driving Miss Judy' tour of the Avenue of the Giants and checked out a few of the groves. Even in the drab dampness, the forest is quite fabulous. We walked a few of the groves, oblivious of the weather, but the debris on the road made us change our mind about staying here another day. Even though the weather is due to improve tomorrow, I doubt that the limbs and shards of wood will be removed from the roadway. Dodging flat causing debris lessons the fun of riding in my estimation. During lunch, the Wily Cager made an attempt at evening the score by skunking me to the tune of $108 dollars. Grrr. I'm sure she used some sleight of hand maneuver that I couldn't pick up. We spent the rest of the afternoon lounging in Frac listening to the rain drops create a marimba beat on the roof, and we even took a foot splashing trip around the campground, just to feel like the little three year old (Adam) I saw this morning splashing as boys are wont to do. His patient and wonderful mother stood by watching and smiling. It warms me to see a young mother encouraging a sense of adventure as opposed to yelling, "Get out of the water, you'll catch the death!" He certainly would catch the death, the death of his spirit if he had been unlucky enough to have fate deal him one of those moms. But Adam is lucky and his giggles trailed with me like a bird song. Two or three of our other campground mates who were braving the weather in tents pulled up stakes before any light could make its way through the canopy. I watched two twenty something girls fold their soggy gear somewhat haphazardly into the back of their little hatchback. One couple, a pair of touring cyclists from Canada remained in the nearly empty campground  Their banana colored tent was so soaked it was as see through as bikini babe in a wet T-shirt contest. They had little choice since they had no little hatchback at the ready. As a bicycling tourist with some experience, I hope for their sake that the weatherman is right and that the weather improves tomorrow. These trees are a fairy land extraordinaire when the sunlight filters down through the canopy. The ferns glisten, the moss gleams, and eons of memory float over the imagination. Riding a bicycle gives one time to enjoy the best (and worst) of these things. Happy we are for our aluminum tent, though we did reminisce a little bit last night about the worst (and best) nights we'd ever spent in a tent. We realized we had at least thirty years of tent camping memories, and only a few found us floating in puddles in the morning. All of this is to say, life is good, especially today.

 Fric and Frac nearly alone in the campground.

The front view of the Kellogg Travel Log, an RV carved from a tree.

 Mounted on a 1917 Nash Quad with heavy steel rims, this rig padded its way through the forest  and all the way to New York City.

 Dyerville washing away in 1955.

 The town called it quits when it washed away a second time in 1962.

 The weather rock: If it's wet, it's raining.

 This tree was a seedling the same time Jesus roamed the holy land.

 After watching the environmentally biased movie in the Visitor Center, I became a tree hugger.

 I just photographed the sign. My camera can't capture the tree's grandeur.

 This downed fellow is at least 150' long.

 In Annie Dillard's book, The Living, she talked of settlers building cabins from the burnt stumps of Douglas Firs in Bellingham. I can believe it.

 Stump art.

This pleasant little grove is nestled along the banks of the Eel River.