It’s always been a dream of mine to see the redwood forests in California, and I finally got to do so yesterday. However, we chose to visit the forest closest to San Francisco — Muir Woods National Monument — which, even on a crappy weather day, was basically swamped with humans. It’s a mere 12 miles from the city, a fact both amazing — what a lovely treasure to have so nearby — and detracting — tour buses swarm the place by mid-morning.
So, in our effort to have a quiet moment with the trees, we rashly took a hike up and away from the main path, without a map, not much water, no food, and absolutely no rain gear. After several soggy miles (and constantly drenched eyeglasses), my love of the trees turned into grouchiness, and I demanded we go back, quickly.
So we did, but it was still worth it, and next time, I’d like to go back to the really big redwood forests on the Oregon border, and camp, well-prepared.
The trees are magical, and I couldn’t help but talk to them and even pet them. Yes, I’m crazy. Do I care? No.