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Jun. 18th, 2005 10:36 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
fabrisseI'm currently staying under ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
jerminating's roof. He's been very sweet. He even let me make pasta aglio e olio tonight to celebrate the fact that I'm no longer living among the garlic-fearers.
On the way here, I stopped for two nights with the lovely and talentedgileswench. More cooking (she makes a killer herb bread and lovely currant scones) and a depraved fanfic entry later, and I was on my way north again.
I spent the night in Crescent City. It was nearly seven hours of driving, which wouldn't have been too bad after the cross country trip, if it hadn't been bucketing down rain for just over five of them.
Crescent City to Eugene is only about four hours, but, since the only time I got to see redwoods during my fortieth birthday trip was about five minutes on the side of the road with my mother complaining that I was making them late, I determined that this time I would do it right.
Friday morning, I slept late, went to Curves, and then loaded the car. The lady at the reception desk had suggested that I take a drive to an area known as Stout Grove. It wouldn't take me more than ten miles out of my way (it was actually a little less than that), and she said it was the best drive for seeing the trees.
I found the road fairly easily and was relieved that I'd come in on the correct end as it was obviously too narrow for two way travel. I was wrong, and, since the pullout areas for passing were either unpaved or packed gravel, I decided to put the four-wheel drive on.
She was right. It was a beautiful drive through the Jedediah Smith National Forest, and, even though it was raining, I twice parked the car in turnout areas to stand out among these beautiful giants.
What the nice lady at the Travelodge hadn't told me (or I hadn't understood) was that there were trails along the road as well. I walked a large chunk of the Boy Scout Trail. I'd have walked the whole thing if there hadn't been a fallen log over the trail.
I could hear the rain, but rarely felt it as the high canopy protected me. There were silver wisps of mist, and some of the trees started down the ridge from where I was walking (about a two story drop) and went so high I couldn't see their tops. Ferns and a few saplings seemed to be the only ground cover. With the rain, I didn't hear or see much wild life -- there was one tree slug -- but I can't remember the last time I felt so at peace.
A little farther along, I found another trail area (the actual "Stout Grove") and walked all of a short trail and most of the River Trail. There were fallen trees whose root base was taller than I am -- one of them looked like it could give Shaquille O'Neal a run for his money on height. This was the area where I noticed that, in spite of the rain, the bark of the trees looked and felt dry. I have to learn more about them, but I think the bark may be like a sponge.
I wish I could describe the scent of that forest or the differences in the sound of the water falling through the redwoods and the much louder plash of it landing on an oak leaf or fern. The difference in sound between the river, the creek, and the rivulets rushing on the ferns was a difference in pitch not type of sound. The water looked amazingly clear.
Every moment of that three hours I spent was filled with awe and wonder.
jerminating's roof. He's been very sweet. He even let me make pasta aglio e olio tonight to celebrate the fact that I'm no longer living among the garlic-fearers.On the way here, I stopped for two nights with the lovely and talented
gileswench. More cooking (she makes a killer herb bread and lovely currant scones) and a depraved fanfic entry later, and I was on my way north again. I spent the night in Crescent City. It was nearly seven hours of driving, which wouldn't have been too bad after the cross country trip, if it hadn't been bucketing down rain for just over five of them.
Crescent City to Eugene is only about four hours, but, since the only time I got to see redwoods during my fortieth birthday trip was about five minutes on the side of the road with my mother complaining that I was making them late, I determined that this time I would do it right.
Friday morning, I slept late, went to Curves, and then loaded the car. The lady at the reception desk had suggested that I take a drive to an area known as Stout Grove. It wouldn't take me more than ten miles out of my way (it was actually a little less than that), and she said it was the best drive for seeing the trees.
I found the road fairly easily and was relieved that I'd come in on the correct end as it was obviously too narrow for two way travel. I was wrong, and, since the pullout areas for passing were either unpaved or packed gravel, I decided to put the four-wheel drive on.
She was right. It was a beautiful drive through the Jedediah Smith National Forest, and, even though it was raining, I twice parked the car in turnout areas to stand out among these beautiful giants.
What the nice lady at the Travelodge hadn't told me (or I hadn't understood) was that there were trails along the road as well. I walked a large chunk of the Boy Scout Trail. I'd have walked the whole thing if there hadn't been a fallen log over the trail.
I could hear the rain, but rarely felt it as the high canopy protected me. There were silver wisps of mist, and some of the trees started down the ridge from where I was walking (about a two story drop) and went so high I couldn't see their tops. Ferns and a few saplings seemed to be the only ground cover. With the rain, I didn't hear or see much wild life -- there was one tree slug -- but I can't remember the last time I felt so at peace.
A little farther along, I found another trail area (the actual "Stout Grove") and walked all of a short trail and most of the River Trail. There were fallen trees whose root base was taller than I am -- one of them looked like it could give Shaquille O'Neal a run for his money on height. This was the area where I noticed that, in spite of the rain, the bark of the trees looked and felt dry. I have to learn more about them, but I think the bark may be like a sponge.
I wish I could describe the scent of that forest or the differences in the sound of the water falling through the redwoods and the much louder plash of it landing on an oak leaf or fern. The difference in sound between the river, the creek, and the rivulets rushing on the ferns was a difference in pitch not type of sound. The water looked amazingly clear.
Every moment of that three hours I spent was filled with awe and wonder.
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no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 01:03 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2005-06-19 07:17 pm (UTC)By the way, I love your icon. Iris were my grandmothers favorite flowers, and, as they are the Belgian flower of welcome too, they have become a flower with some importance to me.
Cooking with Fabi
Date: 2005-06-21 10:31 pm (UTC)Besides, when being introduced to the slashy, cheesy goodness that is Starsky and Hutch, one needs plenty of bready yummies to help one enjoy the HoYay!