Chapter 6: The Redwoods

Redwood trees are among the tallest and most ancient trees on Earth. They can be described using countless superlatives. If you’ve had the fortune of spending time with these giants, I hope this brings back some memories of their magnitude. If you ever get the chance to visit the redwoods, please do. Photos and videos don’t do these trees justice, but I’ve attempted below with a few anyhow.

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After resting in Brookings, I crossed the border into California and cycled 20 miles through the land of the Toloma tribe to reach the redwoods. At the Hiouchi Visitor Centre in Chvn-su'lh-dvn, Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, Ranger Phil (that’s how he introduced himself) was more than happy to tell me about the surrounding areas and which day walks to go on. Upon hearing my accent, he told me about how he’d spent a few years volunteering for DOC in the Bay of Islands a few years ago. ‘You’re from New Zealand too?’ Ranger Phil eagerly asked the only other person in the centre who was heading around. ‘My dad’s from Christchurch’, he replied. Although, admittedly, my sample size of three was small, I inferred there was something about the redwoods that captured the hearts of people who also appreciate New Zealand’s flora.

I walked back to my campsite through the old growth trees. Their scale was different from any tree I’d been in the company of.  Our tallest tree, the kahikatea, only grow to half the height of these giants. By the size of their ancient trunks, I could tell they’d seen some things throughout their lives.

It’s a cliche, but your neck does start to hurt after a moment of trying to sight the tops of the trees. For several of them, you just can’t see their highest branches. When I did glimpse the tops, it ignited my imagining of who called those canopies home, what worlds existed up there that we, ground ants, barely knew of yet whose actions affected their survival.

I had the whole of the next day to explore the park on foot. Sirocco stayed safely tucked under a tree out of sight, his mossy colours serving more of a function than an aesthetic, taking a well-deserved rest after carrying me almost 400 miles.

The plan was to walk to the Grove of the Titans, thanks to Ranger Phil’s advice. With a mighty name such as that, I had high hopes that the trees that lay in this grove would be quite something. On the stroll along the Smith River, the trees kept me company. I didn’t mind there were no gorge humans to be found along this side of the trail. I played out loud to not frighten any of the forest’s residents around the corner. While initially crisp, the beaming sun soon warmed me up. Four layers to three. Three to two.

It was a solitary walk because as I soon found out, the more popular entrance to the Grove of the Titans was on the other side of the trail where people could park their cars. Many hikers had the same goal that day: to be in the presence of the Titans. Going against the follow of foot traffic reminded me of when I walked the Tongariro Crossing as part of Te Araroa and someone asked if I was lost. No, just taking the route less travelled. Several families with kids were out in the grove, some kids more excited about the trees than others.

I’m trying to collect some words in my mind to describe the trunks of the trees that have grown so large as to humble humans and the banana slugs who move beneath them. But the grooved trunks that tower upwards transcend language. They demand silence and perspective.

Lately I’ve been more aware than usual of how I’m perceiving time; that’s what travelling does I guess. When lonely, I want time to speed up so I can see my family in Europe again. I quantify my time in fractions. One quarter down, 34 days in. Yet when stepping back, this adventure feels fleeting.

Then there are the redwoods. Comprehending the Titans’ ancient age to the extent our little brains can thwarted my own temporal dilemma. Turning my focus towards the lifespan of a redwood tree instead, I found immense comfort in knowing that these trees have bridged generations and generations, and generations yet. When I’m, we’re, gone, these trees will endure, and grow still, from a seed pod the size of a tomato.

In the Hiouchi visitor centre there was a display of a project someone undertook, asking people to write letters to the redwoods. Though each letter had its own unique expression, an evident theme was gratitude for what these trees teach us.

If I wrote a letter to them, what would it say? I would thank them for holding the most carbon of any forest in the world — for continuing to stabilise the climate, even when we humans are not upholding our end of the deal. I would thank them for teaching me a thing or two about glacial growth and the power of resilience. Adult redwoods have foot-thick fire resistant bark, so when wildfires clear out the foliage for new growth, they’re left unscathed. They remind us that being a bit lofty and big and strong are valuable if we make them. That if we value their taking up space, why cannot it be so for us? Thank you for reminding me I am at once a blip, yet complicit in your destruction or survival. I am grateful our interdependence.

Leaving Jedediah Smith Redwood State Park, I took a detour along Howland Hill Road, a shady gravelly climb up some more beautiful giants. Up the crest, then down to a familiar road: the iconic state highway 101. The sanctuary of the forest and the bustling road made for striking contrast, which made leaving the forest behind hard. Being in that sanctuary was one of the highlights of this journey, and I cannot wait to return and explore the rest of the majestic groves further south. In times of stress, I will return to the redwoods in my mind to be at peace.

One of the Titans

Take a walk!