In The Redwoods
We detoured a bit from the one-oh-one yesterday to drive along the Avenue of the Giants – that thirty-one mile stretch of highway through the redwoods of Northern California. Surprisingly, it was lightly traveled; much of the time we had the road to ourselves.
All the usual adjectives were in place: magnificent, sun-dappled, ancient, reassuring. There is something about being surrounded by thousand-year-old trees that puts the world in a better perspective. Robert Louis Stevenson was right: It is not so much for its beauty that the forest makes a claim upon men’s hearts, as for that subtle something, that quality of air that emanation from old trees, that so wonderfully changes and renews a weary spirit.
Redwoods were one of three important trees during the California part of my growing up. The other two were oaks and eucalyptus. Those are the trees of Northern California – not the palms and citruses of the southern half of the state.
I was shocked and disappointed the first time I saw all the new palm trees along the Embarcadero in San Francisco some years ago. What were the city fathers thinking? Apparently, there was redevelopment money available and, in their ‘wisdom,’ the agencies in charge decided to go with a tropical theme to detract from the urban blight aftermath of the quake. Tropical? In San Francisco?
Fortunately, at least so far, no one has messed with the Avenue of the Giants – well, except for a few tourist attractions along the way, most of which involved hiking trails and vistas. We did not avail ourselves of those. We just enjoyed the peacefulness as we continued northward toward the cedars and pines and firs of Oysterville.
I suppose that Californians think that the rest of us expect palm trees everywhere in California even though they are not native to Northern California. Thank you for taking us on your drive with you. I am sure the Avenue of the Giants was a nice transition from your time in the other-worldliness of California to your beloved Oysterville.