The Rascal Diaries: 7/13/14 Runnin' the Redwoods

A sad farewell to Patrick Creek and we were on the road. We know that it is lost, our moment in time dissolved into a corporate take over or total abandonment, like so many forgotten paradises along this road.

To test our heat tolerance we wandered over the ridge toward Grants Pass. Ten miles and ten degrees higher we turned back, knowing that the 85 degrees we felt was just going to explode. It is 100 up there and not made for open air riding!

Running back down, we unheated and soon the fog took over, wrapping us in a chill that required leather. Back past Patrick River and Gasquet, we had another calling. The Smith River South Fork Road sucked us into its deserted canyon ascents and switchbacks. As we entered the road I said to Jules " Oh look that sign says ...." And he said ... "Oh yeah! Fifteen miles of narrow winding roads. Here we go!" We twisted with the road into the sun, following the clear Smith River in all its convolutions. Several new bridges and recent construction accenting this narrow, unused, unpopulated road begged the question why so much money was spent here. The road ended at private property with a clearly stated no trespassing sign. So we did an about face and enjoyed our lonely ride in reverse.

On 199 again, we soon were immersed in fog and redwoods. No matter how many times we visit these giants, they always mystify us. The fog added an other- worldliness to them as we craned our necks to look into their depths. At Walker Road, we turned into the John King Fesler Memorial Grove. Off the beaten track, it is quiet and largely unpopulated by tourists. As we walked among the behemoths, speaking in whispers, the trees murmured back, telling stories of ancient lives. Awed, we lingered among their greatness, staring up into the fog draped branches.

Even as we headed out, redwoods still canopied the road and guided our way to route 101, aptly named The Redwood Highway. Here elk grazed next to the road and we had a close encounter with a deer. Our constant companion, the fog clung to the shoreline, periodically creeping in to staunch our view.

We ended our day in Arcata, largely because we were in the sun and the fog loomed on the horizon.

A dinner of Chinese food produced a fortune cookie that read, "It matters not what road we take but rather what we become on the journey." Today we were explorers riding into unknown territory. Although we were turned back twice, the fruits of our wandering were many. The wonders we have witnessed today and every day on this trip have made our lives richer with the knowledge of the great beauties and mysteries of nature.