Tree gazing

It’s one of the driest years in northern California’s history. The hills are dusty and the valley is warm. During Christmas. Strange times.

We push aside things we can’t control and take advantage of the moment. Head to the coast to walk among the giant redwoods in Muir Woods National Monument.

At a time of year when the moist air should chill us to the bone and rain should make trails undesirable, instead it is a perfect day. We walk into the forest ready to see the tallest living things on the planet, the giant coastal redwoods.

We aren’t the only ones there. The holidays and great weather have brought out many many others. Children run along the boardwalked trail and the forest echoes with chatter of the hundreds of others we are sharing the hike with. The parking lot was so full, in fact, that we boarded a crowded shuttle in Marin City that took us the last miles into the park.

It’s a beautiful place but not quite the experience we drove two hours for. You don’t seek out the forest for the crowds. There was only one thing to do. Go up.

We left the flat trail that looped through the lowland and took an offshoot that promised another destination at its endpoint. Amazingly, that’s all it took.

Quiet. Trees. Dirt trail. The rustle of wind through the treetops. I take a deep breath and look up. And up. And up.

Giant sequoias are still the massive masterpieces of the earth but coastal redwoods are slender and gracefully beautiful. The literature tells me the redwoods here average 600-800 years old. Some show darkened scars of lightning strikes or forest fires. Survivors. Alive when a couple hundred million fewer people roamed the U.S.

We climb and climb, taking our time. There is four-leafed clover to seek. Air to breathe. Vistas to enjoy. It’s an easy-enough path for people with no end-goal.

There are plenty of milemarkers that let us know we haven’t committed ourselves to something we can’t finish. We crest the hill. Disappointingly, the top doesn’t give us a view of the Pacific, just a few miles away. There is an ocean-view trail but it’s closed for some rehab work. In any case, we are getting hungry. We lazily loop back down another trail to head back. Halfway down, the chatter from below reaches our ears, getting louder and louder as we descend into the valley. We march determinedly past the picture-snappers, strollers, family clusters and hoards. I advise visiting during a non-holiday period.

Back on the road, Yelp helps us get a delicious meal at in San Rafael. Scampi. Penne pasta with smoked chicken. Cappelini with seafood. It doesn’t stay on the plate long. We are stuffed and happily tired.

A long drive is still ahead and I drive while others snooze their way home. It’s a long drive for a day trip but no regrets. Walking among giants is always worth the trek.