Day 14

Heavy dew and clouds in the morning. An Oregon goodbye.  None of the laundry dried. Had to carry it along till the next sunny spot. Luckily we found a trick for the important stuff:

After Brookings it was hardly 20 minutes until we reached the state line. Nice big sign. A good acknowledgement of the milestone.

We met up with a fellow cyclist who had camped next to us last night. Young Canadian man traveling alone. We were going the same place and there were few others on the road, so we ended up riding together the rest of the day.

Some kind of border patrol set up past the state line ("agricultural check point") and lots of signs stating the fine for all kinds of misdemeanors.

Immediately we were in farmland. The ocean was obscured by a low cloud bank, so all we could see were fields, many of them recently tilled and very brown. Rode through some podunk towns like Smith River and Fort Dick. 'What's some california music?' I wondered. We put on the Eagles as we rode into Crescent city and finally got some California sunshine (I hear it's particularly nutritious) at our first California beach.

Made it through Crescent city on a bike path along the harbor, where Lluc lamented that the scene felt like an 80's high school drama set in a coastal town in California... the only things that peaked my interest were several enormous stumps scattered along the roadside outside of town in people's yards and by their houses. Easily 10 ft high and 15 ft in diameter. Most of them sprouting all kinds of other bushes from the tops. 'We must be approaching Redwood county' I thought.

We started to climb and didn't stop for a long while. Sweating buckets, even though it wasn't that warm out, grinding on our lowest gears, but very steadily. Excitement built as the trees got taller and taller...

The road went on and the shoulder was hard to follow as we were all gaping up at those monsters. Big, stout, stately, even majestic--looking things, simply towering on both sides of us. Best of all, the sun had come out and a golden light was flowing through tge branches making the whole canopy glow.

Down the other side we flew feeling a lot like those hover-cycle things they flew on Endor in Star Wars. In Klamath we stopped in the reservation town to get a can of something for dinner (there wasn't much to choose from). While we were there, we couldn't pass by the "Tour Through Tree". We are on a bike tour after all... Earlier in the day, I had wondered aloud, "Don't they have that tree you can drive through around here?" thinking of 1950's postcards I had seen. Have a feeling this wasn't the one I had seen, but heck, it was worth the gimmick.

Speaking of roadside gimmicks, we also we impelled to stop and say hello to these friendly giants:

From somewhere deep inside Paul, a deep voice bellowed: "Hello down there. We hope you enjoy visiting with our trees. Don't forget to visit the gift shop on your way out. Restrooms are to the North side of the Gift Shop..." So this is what private interests do with our extraordinary natural splendor....

We climbed once more up into the Redwood hills, and got off the 101 to take the Scenic route through the park. The climb was tough, and usually after one like that we take all the speed we can get down the other side, but instead we found ourselves braking and slowing down to stare upward into the canopy as we drifted by. The whole place had the feeling of massive living cathedral, the trunks standing like columbs, the floor lined with ferns, and the moist air the hanging smoke of incense. The silence too was overwhelming, after just riding away from the constant roaring surf. We laughed at an attraction sign that touted "Big tree."

Camp was made in Elk Prarie at the hiker/biker site. (Getting to really like this bike- specific infrastructure that recognizes the little that bike tourist actually need. Just some water and a few piece of grass, really. Priced accordingly too: $5 bucks, wahooo!).

In the dusk I took a walk along the trees and decided: Big trees deserve big hugs. I gave out a few. Touching something so well- grounded (hundreds of years of root systems), one can't help but feel a deep sense of place. I sighed peacefully. So happy to have made it here. California is already showing us her best.