dwarfed by Redwoods
Bicycle tour through California’s Redwood parks
California is full of wonders and its coastal belt is no less. Although the rocky coastline takes most of the limelight, just a little inside there is a silent, misty wonderland. Enjoy this photo essay of my solo bicycle journey through several Redwood parks of California- Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, Big Basin Redwoods State Park, Butano State Park, Samuel P. Taylor State Park, Muir Woods National Monument, Armstrong Redwoods State Natural Reserve, and Humboldt Redwoods State Park.
The Coast Redwoods or Sequoia sempervirens dot the northern coast in clusters. They are the tallest living species on Earth with heights frequently breaching 100 meters. When I saw them , I was in admiration of their majesty and their age- the Coast Redwoods can be upto 2000 years old. When I spent more time biking amidst the towering trees, their height and sheer size subconsciously instilled a sense of submission in me. The trees were so tall and densely packed, that in some places such as the one in the photo above, direct sunlight never reached the ground. Under the dome of their crowns, shade-loving plants, ferns and creatures find their home making the landscape even more spectacular. In most parks, trails wind through impassable places with fallen trees and stumps covered by lush ferns. It was hard to bike without feeling the need to spot the top of a tree, which I found impossible to do. So I decided to camp and set on foot to explore these giants up close.
To find the oldest growth Redwoods in the most untouched and pristine environments, I biked deep into the forest and camped at remote sites, most of which were luckily deserted because there were no paved roads leading up to the them. The breathtaking views from such backcountry campsites, from where the calm and serene Pacific ocean was visible over the thick canopy cover made the effort required to climb up to them well worth it. Besides, thanks to the partial shutdown of the US government, facilities managed by federal employees were unstaffed. Thus, I got to camp for free! Many of these camping sites were so remote that they let me enter the old growth area where the tallest trees dwelled. In this picture I am viewed lighting my ultralight titanium stove, courtesy of Vargo Outdoors.
The Redwoods derive their color from tannin molecules in their bark- the same pigments which give red wine their color. These molecules make the trees resistant to fires and insect attacks. The burnt charcoal seen on the bark in the picture above was caused by a fire over 200 years ago. The burnt ash marks on their barks revealed their resistance, having lived through many wild fires. The reddish trunks embroiled with intricate patterns seen through the thick mist made the landscape seem mystical and even eerie at times. Looking up at the Redwoods froze me in time and flashes from the previous days of bicycling emerged.
Due to a string of miscalculations of elevation gain, I found myself in a precarious situation one evening when I was racing against the Sun. It was getting dark fast but there were no signs of a campground or a hostel nearby. At that point, I didn’t have any desire to enjoy the ride like I usually do. I was just focussed on pedalling fast to get to a safe place.
In moments of fear, it is not the journey but the destination that matters.
This may seem awfully wrong to anyone who has travelled fervently but I have found that this aspect of bicycle travel often gets overlooked. Sure, bicycle travellers take their own sweet time to explore a place. With each crank of the pedal, they learn its geography and terrain. By striking spontaneous conversations with locals — who are more than eager to talk to bicyclists— they begin to understand their culture. By choosing narrow, winding interior roads, they see a side of history which is missed by cars zooming at high speeds. But there are situations when none of that matters. All that is stuck in my mind is to race against the sunset. Although I had sufficient food and water, I wanted to avoid camping in the wild as much as possible. With a hope to avoid the nuisance of confronting racoons or coyotes, I was desperately looking for a silver lining. Just then, I noticed a Russian flag and a bright yellow building with a brick facade becoming apparent on the horizon.
On the outside, the Russian House #1 looked like any ordinary restaurant. It had parking space in the front. A red neon sign hung on the glass wall indicating that it was open. A small board near the entrance informed guests that restrooms were for customers only. But all parallels to a typical restaurant ended with that. There was no one to welcome me into the place and there weren’t any table attendants either. Handwritten signs directed me to a solid wood countertop with a small spread of food and a note that read, “Take as much as you want and pay from your wisdom.” I didn’t quite understand the sign until later. Beyond the table, I saw a music corner equipped with a full-sized piano and harp. A booth with more than a hundred different Russian puzzles was located near the dining tables. Just in front of the kitchen, a separate corridor lead to what looked like a meditation room. The whole rear portion was covered by tall glass walls providing an unhindered panoramic view of the Russian River. Perplexed by the overall setting, I proceeded to the buffet area and poured myself a piping hot bowl of beetroot soup labelled “Borscht”. I sat down in a corner adjacent to a large shelf containing Russian books.
Only later, while talking to the owner of the place, I learnt that I was actually in a self-run community center. She said it was part cultural center, part self-contemplation center and part economics experiment. She confirmed that the restaurant did not have any menu, and thus had no set prices. People paid whatever they could. To me the idea seemed like straight out of an ideal fantasy world which would surely not work in a capitalist society. But I was proven wrong- the place had been open for three years and was thriving! She explained to me that the center was modelled as a place to share individual expression and dialogue, over delicious all-you-can-eat home cooked food. When I asked her why she was running the place in this manner, she was quick to respond, “I love to meet travellers in the middle of their journeys. Since they are away from work, they are mostly exploring. I get to discuss ideas related to self-expression and maintaining inner peace. This used to be my hobby and but my hobby became my life. I don’t make any money from it. All the money goes back into the project. And I see that when I do good to others, their good side comes out naturally. It is like an endless expansion of goodness.” I was admiring her dedication for community service when she abruptly stopped and asked me whether I had a place in mind to spend the cold night in. After I said no, she kindly offered to let me stay in the center in exchange for doing chores. Sure enough, I accepted. I spent the rest of the evening helping her doing dishes, sweeping the floor and occasionally welcoming perplexed customers. Once the restaurant closed, we watched a Russian documentary about the first human in space with English subtitles. She then led me on a guided meditation in which we focussed our eyes on the flame of a candle which was quite soothing after a long day of biking. She let me sleep in the meditation room itself.
On the next morning, while talking to her I learnt that she also organizes weekly activities like meditation and invites guest speakers to hold discussions on breathwork and mindfulness. I promised her that I would come back again and also agreed to spread the word that Russian House #1 was in need of free donation of a pickup truck to grab wholesale vegetables from local farmers. I had a hearty breakfast of pancakes, mashed yams, steamed corn, toasts with homemade strawberry jam, and fruits. As I was about to leave, I shook her hand to say goodbye. She asked me if we could hug. I hesitated and replied that I hadn’t taken a shower for four days. She jerked me into a tight hug and said that I just smelled human. I wished that I could have stayed longer to learn more about the center and its activities, but the urge to explore more Redwoods and understand their current status forced me to leave.
During many of my conversations with park officials, I got to know that although the Coast Redwoods have gained protection from the government in terms of carving out designated State Parks and banning their logging, more work needed to be done. Logging to meet the demands of the Gold Rush and urban development in the 1800s has threatened the survival of these behemoths today. As the logging continued, a battle to protect the ancient trees ensued. In the year 2006, they were designated as “Vulnerable” and a decade later, their condition deteriorated further to “Endangered”. 300 years ago there were an estimated 2.1 million acres of Redwoods. Now less than 4% remain. A famous photographer from the Bay Area- Mr. Andrew Hill and a few others launched an initiative called the Sempervirens Fund to limit the damage and conserve the trees in their pristine environment. As one of the founders said “Once gone, no human power or ingenuity can replace them. Even the most callous-minded materialist does not love to think of this swirling globe as a treeless place.” So, let’s follow some simple tips and do our bit to help conserve the Redwoods. Each time I looked up at the Redwoods I couldn’t help but wonder how old they were. Centuries had passed, civilizations had come and gone, religions had born and perished, nations had changed names, but the majestic trees continued to live. There aren’t many places in the world where we can turn back the clock and enjoy landscapes identical to former historical landscapes. Not just in size but also in age, I felt dwarfed by Redwoods.
