Cedars, oaks, redwoods, sequoias, catalpas, sycamores, pines, firs, poplars, aspens, birches, willows…I love them all…each and every one. Giant old trees and ambitious saplings. Trees planted in front of a front door, and those standing guard at corners or lining the roads like sentinels. I love to see forests growing wild in interstate medians.
Tree branches. Film double exposure.
Favorites.
I greet favorite characters along my route, marveling as bright leaves unfold in Spring, then color and drop in Autumn, and admiring the trees’ bones in Winter. I wonder what the neighborhood trees talk about high above our houses, chatting in the breeze.
I’ve yet to see the Amazon rainforest. And it is increasingly likely I never will.
Missing trees.
The sound of a chainsaw makes me nervous and angry. The sight of branches and giant trunks split and piled high for the chipper makes me sick at my stomach. I imagine the pieces are still dying, the neighboring trees still whispering to the woodpile, saying goodbye.
Of course, I notice missing trees. Each time I pass, I remember and mourn the missing ones like friends, acknowledging the empty space in the ground, in the sky. I lost one this week. It’s a long story, for another time.
Ancient Bur Oak tree. There are four of these old oaks in one Chicago block. The trees were recently threatened by an elementary school expansion project. The neighborhood rallied to protect the trees. For now, they are safe. The annex builders did, however, destroy many younger trees in the easement in order to put up construction fences and to bring in heavy equipment.
I’ve just started reading a book called “The Last Forest” by London and Kelly. I’m already sad. For someone who cried through “The Lorax” by Dr. Seuss and “Barkskins” by Proulx, this non-fiction book will be harder given the recent news of fires in the Amazon and Siberia. Already, I’m anxious.
Waste not, want not.
I wish to be part of a civilization that respects trees and the earth, that repurposes and reuses instead of wasting and throwing out the old in favor of “progress”. Resources are not infinite. Infinite growth of profit and population is not sustainable. We must stop. We must stop taking trees and forests from earth and the animals.
What will I do to save the world’s trees? Use less paper, buy products with less packaging, protect land when it is threatened by developers, and plant trees. What else can I do? What will you do?
The reddest of a red maple. Autumn leaves.The last of the canopy. Leaves.
Thank you for reading
Photos in this post were taken with a film point-and-shoot camera on a sad day in 2012. The trees brought me indescribable comfort that day, and really…always. Select photos are available on Etsy.
Finally, if you liked this post and would like to stay in touch, please…
Carol Fletcher is a traveling, tree-hugging, dog-loving, coffee-addicted, Nashville born-and-raised photographer living in Chicago. To see more photo essays and projects, please visit www.carolfletcher.com.
November 20: Merced to Sequoia National Park. Starting mileage: 37,769.
We woke up early in Merced, ready for a few hours drive southeast through California to Sequoia National Park. Lucky us! Yesterday, Yosemite and, today the Giant Sequoia trees!
You can tell a lot about a region by its signs: “Pray for rain” on the side of a packed truck in a field, and “Water 500 ft. DO NOT DRINK. For radiators only,” along the dusty road. In this arid landscape, we saw rows and rows of fruit and nut trees: oranges, pomegranates, peaches, avocados, grapes, almonds, and pistachios. Melt water from the nearby Sierra Nevada mountains is used to irrigate these thirsty plants, providing produce and jobs for many.
CA-180 sign near Fresno, with the Sierra Nevada foothills in the background.Coyote in a field. California’s Sierra Nevada mountains.Orange grove. Near Squaw Valley / Sanger, California.
King’s Canyon and Sequoia National Park
Eventually, the road went up, up, up and the temperature went down, down, down. We lost about 10 degrees of warmth in +3,000 feet of elevation. And then, there they were! Giant Sequoias lined the road to greet us as we entered the nation’s second national park.
Mama Lucy at a viewpoint just inside Sequoia National Park, posing with the giant greeters. The Sequoias became a national park just a couple of weeks before Yosemite, in the fall of 1890.
Giant Sequoias
The Sequoiadendron Giganteum is related to the Coastal Redwood(Sequoia Sempervirens), but the Giant Sequoias are generally shorter, fatter, and older than the Redwoods. They, like Redwoods, have tiny seed cones and are resistant to fire. But the Giant Sequoia trees benefit from fires that clear the undergrowth for sprouting. They grow in a much smaller region, getting water from the Sierra Nevada’s snow and rain. The Giant Sequoia trees are soft and brittle, often shattering when they fall. As a result, their wood is not as valued for construction…what should have been a saving grace.
Mama Lucy admires a giant Sequoia. Sequoia National Park, CA.
Their grandeur alone should have saved them
Like the Redwoods, no words can really describe the Giant Sequoias–no adjectives are big enough, no sentiments are poetic enough. They are too big to photograph. To stand before them is to look at primordial beings, at least 2,000-3,000 years old. It’s too much to comprehend with logic alone.
Native Americans lived among the forests of Giant Sequoias for ages. Migrant Europeans first noted the giants in Calaveras Grove in 1833. Because it was not publicized, the trees escaped for another 20 years. But, around 1850-52, the trees were “discovered” by Augustus Dowd.
Despite their otherworldly beauty, ancient age, and being impractical for use, greedy settlers still chopped the old giants down in the 1800-1900s. Unbelievably, these majestic old souls were logged mainly for shingles, fence posts, and matchsticks. Even the “Discovery tree” found by Dowd was felled in 1853. One illustrated postcard from the period shows a cotillion of 32 people dancing on a massive stump, it’s severed trunk laying beside it. The lack of respect for these ancient trees is appalling.
The fate of trees and our national parks
Mama Lucy at General Sherman, the giant Sequoia that is the largest tree by volume in the world. These giants are impossible to photograph in a way that shows their true scale.
Any fool can destroy trees. They cannot run away; and if they could, they would still be destroyed, — chased and hunted down as long as fun or a dollar could be got out of their bark hides, branching horns, or magnificent bole backbones…. Through all the wonderful, eventful centuries since Christ’s time — and long before that — God has cared for these trees, saved them from drought, disease, avalanches, and a thousand straining, leveling tempests and floods; but he cannot save them from fools, — only Uncle Sam can do that.
John Muir, “The American Forests,” August 1897
Today, the trees are threatened by a warming environment, drought, and less mountain meltwater. And in 2017, Trump suggested he’d open some national lands to logging, grazing, drilling, and/or mining. Thankfully, better people prevailed–and the Sequoia National Park area was spared from a size reduction like Bears Ears (which lost 85% of its land) and Grand Staircase-Escalante (-46%).
Sugar Pines and Sequoias near General Sherman’s grove in Sequoia National Park.The triplets, Three Graces, Sequoia National Park. For prints, please email me.Moss grows on a neighboring Sugar Pine tree in Sequoia National Park.
Wuksachi Lodge and the Bears
We splurged to stay at the remote Wuksachi Lodge in Sequoia National Park. We arrived too early for the very official check-in time, but sat cozy in front of the cast-iron wood-burning stove, mesmerized by the surrounding Sequoia and Pine woods. The staff warned us to take *everything* out of the car. Everything. Don’t leave jackets, which might have the smell of lotion or perfumes. Don’t leave hand sanitizers or chapsticks. Remove all trash, tissues, and papers. Don’t leave bottles, even if they are empty. Don’t leave coolers. And for goodness sake, don’t leave a morsel of food. Why? BEARS!
Bears have been known to break car windows for a water bottle, a mint, or a coat that maybe they think hides a tasty human. It took us an hour to unload, and tidy up the car. Sorry bears, nothing to see here. Of course, after dinner, when we walked back to the room from the lodge in the pitch-black night, I did worry that we were moving meal options. It made us walk a little faster!
November 21: Sequoia National Park
We explored the forests and wandered reverently around the giant tree groves. Sometimes, we’d just sit and take it all in…the fresh air of the mountains and these moments in the cathedral of the giants.
Looking up at the Sequoias. These trees are not as tall as the Coastal Redwoods, but they are older and have more width and volume. It is said that as the Sequoias grow tall and stand above their neighbors, wind can often sheer off their tops. The topped trees will continue to grow in girth.If you listen, you can hear the chipmunks. Sequoia National Park.
Bad behavior
In the evenings, we planted ourselves by the fireplace, tired from walking, and happy to be in such a peaceful place. One night as we waited for our reservation in the lodge restaurant, I read about the area’s logging history. I sat worrying about the greed that takes so many resources from the earth, and the selfish laziness that leaves so much trash. Why does nature always seem to lose?
And then, this terror of a kid shows up, apparently parentless. I watched as he nearly destroyed the child-size Teddy Bear that sat in the lobby. The brat pulled the bear into the floor, pummeling and punching it–poking at its eyes, yanking its ears, and flinging it around before leaping on it from a chair like a wrestler. A lamp nearly fell over in his screaming rambunctious fit. Where were his parents? Why allow this bad behavior in a public space, in a place others were relaxing? Is his tormenting aggression ok with them–even if he was only abusing a stuffed animal? Why allow him to destroy something, especially something that belongs to others?
I finally figured out his parents were the well-dressed couple sipping wine and staring intently at their respective iPads on a nearby sofa. Honestly, I doubt they would have noticed if the kid had been snatched. Then again, that kind of behavior must deter kidnappers. I mean, who’d want him?!? It is this kind of behavior, this lack of sensitivity and respect–his and theirs–that troubles me. Nature is losing–has lost, and will continue to lose–because of greed, selfishness, and the lack of empathy and kindness.
The lobby bear at Wuksachi Lodge in Sequoia National Park.
Sunset
I couldn’t watch anymore. If this had been a real animal or a tree, I would have been in a brawl–with the kid and the parents. Instead, I walked outside to see the pink sunset. Good decision.
Pastels painted the eastern sky like a linen postcard, I stood in awe, in the quiet twilight. An older man came out to stand beside me, he with his camera too. We smiled at each other. No one else was outside. Silence. The wind shivered the trees. Creaking, crispy sounds. Pinks turned into fiery reds and oranges, and a crescent moon appeared over the tree silhouettes. It lasted only a few minutes, then the light was gone.
“Wow!” was all I could say.
“Splendid!” he added. “Glad I saw you making photos! I guess we’d better get back in to the three ring before the bears get us.”
Pastel sunset over Sequoia National Park.Then, a crescent moon appeared among the trees. Sequoia National Park.And then, pastels turn fiery just before dark, and the trees start melting into the sky. Sequoia National Park.
November 19: San Francisco to Yosemite National Park. Starting mileage: 37,495.
Our drive east across California on a Sunday morning was quiet, sunny, and we were happy. The sun was in our eyes, and the road sparkled. We passed vast grassy flatlands, farms and fields, vineyards, almond trees planted in rows, and pastures where black cows reigned. Today, we’d see Yosemite, THE third National Park, and OUR third National Park.
Almond tree farm in California.The one brown cow. California.
Ode to Scenic Vistas and Viewing Points
One of our favorite things to do was stop to stretch our legs at scenic vistas and viewing points. Mama Lucy took the opportunity to walk her Fitbit, while I made photographs. Whether they’re called Observation Points, Scenic Turn-outs, Scenic Overlooks, Vista Points–all viewpoints have handsome views. But not all viewpoints are themselves scenic. Amidst the allure of the surrounding area, these viewing spaces are usually paved parking lots, sometimes populated by picnic tables, bathrooms, and overflowing trash cans. But, at this one, I noticed the lovely blonde hair-like grasses and admired the peaceful viewpoint as much as “the view”.
The Don Pedro Reservoir Lake near Chinese Camp, California.Extra views at the viewpoint parking lot for the vista at Don Pedro Reservoir Lake, near Chinese Camp, CA.
The Rim Wildfire Area
As we passed through Stanislaus National Forest and neared Yosemite National Park, we entered an area blackened by a forest fire. We stopped at another viewpoint, and stood staring at a barren valley full of leafless, toothpick trees. Above us, massive power lines hummed and crackled. A sign directed us to hear more about the Rim Fire.
The Rim Fire broke out in mid-August 2013, caused by a hunter’s illegal campfire. He stupidly lit a fire during a hot, dry, windy time when a fire ban was in place. The fire burned more than 90,000 acres in just a matter of days. Finally, nine weeks later, the fire was contained. But it was a full year before the smoldering fire was declared “out”. In the end, the Rim Fire destroyed more than 100 buildings. Fortunately, no humans died. I can only imagine how much more devastating this was for the wildlife–how many nests or dens destroyed? How many animal deaths? The hunter was charged with a felony, though the charges were later dropped because the only two witnesses against him died.
The Rim Fire began in August 2013, burning more than 90,000 acres around and in Yosemite National Park, California. It took more than two months to contain, and some areas smoldered for over a year.The Rim Fire was caused by an illegal hunter’s campfire in 2013. The fire destroyed more than 90,000 acres in Stanislaus National Forest and Yosemite National Park. California.Dead trees in Stanislaus National Forest and Yosemite National Park. California.Skeletons of burned tree in Stanislaus National Forest, California.
Yosemite!
Yosemite is the USA’s third National Park, established in 1890. Abraham Lincoln first protected the land in 1864 with the Yosemite Grant. But still development continued. Farm animals grazed in the valley. Hunters poached wildlife. More tourists came. More roads were built. Naturalist and conservationist John Muir argued for greater protection, and in 1890, the Yosemite Act passed. This act protected the trees in Sequoia National Park (the second park, beating Yosemite by about two weeks) and the natural formations and minerals in Yosemite.
Thankfully, passionate John Muir continued to argue for a greater idea to preserve and protect the great wild lands of America. One night in 1903, around a campfire in Yosemite with President Theodore Roosevelt, Muir made his point. The idea for the National Park Service was born. While the Park Service was not officially up and running until 1916, a 1906 Act formally gave Yosemite to the United States for protection. The National Park Service…America’s Best Idea. Thank you John Muir!
Entering Yosemite, we could see Half Dome in the distance. California’s National Park.Mama Lucy walking her Fitbit and looking at sequoias at another delightful viewpoint just outside Yosemite National Park. California.Wawona Tunnel into Yosemite National Park. California.Yosemite National Park. The third oldest National Park, founded on October 1, 1890.
On the Valley Floor, Yosemite National Park
At last, we drove down to the Valley Floor and to the foot of El Capitan. There are no words to describe the scale beyond the fields of high grass, where the double-decker Yosemite waterfall fell from a massive granite mountain. Tiny people crossed the field in front of us.
Upper Yosemite Falls as seen from the Valley Floor. Yosemite National Park.El Capitan, a sheer granite mountain wall in Yosemite National Park.Mama Lucy at the Chapel in Yosemite. The Chapel was built in 1879 near the start of the Four Mile Trail. It was moved to this location in 1901.Bridalveil Falls in Yosemite National Park. California.On the Valley Floor. Yosemite, California.Bridalveil Falls seen as we drive onto the Valley Floor. Yosemite National Park, CA.An important point for the preservation of Yosemite and all our national forests and parks. The National Park Service idea was born here, around a campfire.Driving out of Yosemite after the sun left the Valley Floor.Later, we passed over a one-lane bridge in Yosemite. Part of a mountain road for exiting Yosemite collapsed in a rock fall. This bridge redirected cars back over to the exiting side of the mountain.
The sun leaves the valley
We left Yosemite’s Valley floor just after the sun did. Driving out of the canyon, we watched the sun ride up the granite cliffs. We’d make it to our hotel in Merced, California after dark. Happy and exhausted, we were delighted to learn that nearby Mountain Mike’s Pizza had a salad bar!
Finally, if you’re going on a road trip, please support your NATIONAL PARKS! The $80 spent on an annual pass was THE BEST $80 spent on our trip. We are lucky that such ardent and influential people moved on an idea to protect such magical and majestic places. Go! See the parks. Appreciate the last remaining wild spaces. And thank your lucky stars that someone had the foresight and passion to care and fight for nature.
November 15: Portland to the California Redwoods. Starting mileage: 36,776.
We left Portland in a heavy rain. Today, we were headed for the coastal redwood trees in California. I couldn’t wait to see those giant, ancient beings–straight and tall–lining our road.
As we drove along, we saw fields of crops–labeled for city people like us. We called out the names on the signs and admired the plants as we passed: broccoli, hazelnuts, clover, forage, fescue, rye grass, and winter wheat.
Welcome to California
After a little while, we came upon a “Welcome to California” sign, followed by an Agricultural Inspection Point with a sign reading “All vehicles must stop”. We pulled over, and were quickly waved through by the ranger, “Have a good afternoon ladies!” Soon, there was a tunnel, and not long after, the first redwood. Unmistakable…the presence of those surely sentient trees, waiting along the road, welcoming or watching. We were in the Redwood National and State Parks.
Just a photo from behind the steering wheel as we drove into the first in the string of Redwood National and State Parks. My skin tingles every time I get a first glimpse of the Redwoods. There is no comparison! I was excited for Mama Lucy to see them. Redwood National Park.
November 16: Crescent City to Eureka, California. Starting mileage: 37,113
The next morning, we started out early. We’d drive slowly south, weaving around and through the various parks that make up the Redwood National and State Parks system. What a moody day as we drove into a deep fog cloud, then a misting rain, and a hard rain–driving among the giants.
About to enter the fog cloud, California.Seeing the redwoods in the rain and fog…it’s like driving into an ancient fairy tale.Fog in the Redwoods. Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, California.Mama Lucy dwarfed in the Redwood Forest. Redwood National Park, California.
About the Redwood Tree
Coastal Redwoods are some of the oldest living things on earth, 1,200–1,800 years or more, with one estimated to be 2,200 years old. They are tall–the tallest living things on earth at 375+ feet. Coast redwoods can reproduce from tiny seed cones or by sprouting from a root crown, stump, or even fallen redwoods. Despite their great height, the roots only extend down six to twelve feet. But the roots can extend up to 100 feet from the tree’s base, intertwining with the roots of others, all holding on to each other, which greatly increases their stability. These groves are like families, and for this reason, redwoods are often in a line or fairy-ring circle.
A fallen giant redwood spouts ferns, moss, and other trees. Redwood National Park.Fallen redwoods often sprout other trees. Redwood National Park.
Sequoia sempervirens (redwoods) are only found on the Pacific coast, from southern Oregon through central California. They can not live more than 50 miles inland because they need the fog and precipitation from the incoming moisture off the ocean. The tallest and oldest trees are found in deep valleys and gullies, where rainfall is high, year-round streams flow, and fog is regular. The redwoods drink fog: ~40% of their water intake is condensed fog.
Walking in the rain in the Redwood National Park. Fog and rain suit these forests.Moss grows on a Redwood. Coastal Redwoods in Northern California.Mama Lucy walking through the redwood forest.Mama Lucy in the redwood forest.
John Steinbeck’s Redwood Encounter in Travels with Charley
“The redwoods, once seen, leave a mark or create a vision that stays with you always. No one has ever successfully painted or photographed a redwood tree. The feeling they produce is not transferable. From them comes silence and awe. It’s not only their unbelievable stature, nor the color which seems to shift and vary under your eyes, no, they are not like any trees we know, they are ambassadors from another time.
They carry their own light and shade. The vainest, most slap-happy and irreverent of men, in the presence of redwoods, goes under a spell of wonder and respect…. One feels the need to bow to unquestioned sovereigns. There’s a cathedral hush here. Perhaps the thick soft bark absorbs sound and creates a silence. The trees rise straight up to zenith; there is no horizon…. The green fernlike foliage so far up strains the sunlight to a green gold and distributes it in shafts or rather in stripes of light and shade. To me, there’s a remote and cloistered feeling here. One holds back speech for fear of disturbing something–what?
And only these few are left—a stunning memory of what the world was like once long ago. Can it be that we do not love to be reminded that we are very young and callow in a world that was old when we came into it?
― John Steinbeck, Travels with Charley: In Search of America, 1962
A few photos to try and show the magic:
Redwoods drink condensed fog.Such a magical place of fog, rain, and these kind, sentient giants. Redwood National Forest.The soft, cushy forest floor at the foot of a redwood.
Their one-foot thick, soft fibrous bark makes them extremely fire-resistant. They are also extremely resistant to insects and rot. Indeed, it is said that their number one enemy is humankind. Redwoods are listed as endangered because of declining populations due to urban development and logging. Since logging began in the 1850s, 95 percent of old-growth coast redwoods have been cut down (source: Sempervirens Fund). Today, the four parks in the Redwood National and State Parks system, together, protect only 45% of all remaining redwood old-growth forests, totaling about 39,000 acres. Redwoods are listed as Endangered on the IUCN Red List because of decreasing populations.
Lumber facility along the coast near the Redwood National Park. Redwoods are endangered because of urban development and logging. Wild Elk warning. Animals thrive in the redwood forests.
Reverence
I am not religious. But I do believe in something greater, a spirit bigger than our individual selves. These trees embody that. The stillness, the rain, the very presence of the trees, inspire an awe and reverence that I cannot articulate. We are here now, among these divine spirits. How patient they are with the often greedy, cruel humans who are just a moment in their long lives.
I’m drawn to them, and could happily lose myself walking among their trunks in the fog and rain. We walked in silence around them, on a path through a quiet forest with only the sound of dripping rain. I held one of their tiny seed cones, less than one-inch long. And they held me in their midst, among their groves. I took some silence, some calm, some hope with me that day.
November 12: Roslyn, Washington to Seattle. Starting mileage: 36,363.
Today, we began a three-night whirlwind across the Pacific Northwest. We left Roslyn for one night in Seattle, one night at the Pacific Ocean, and one night in Portland. Despite the overcast skies and the frequent rain squalls, it was not enough time in any one of these places.
Over the Snoqualmie Pass to Seattle
We drove out of Northern Exposure’s Cicely heading west over the Cascade Mountain Range, and passed over Snoqualmie Pass just before a snow storm. First, we would spend a day in Seattle with my step-brother seeing the views from Columbia Center Tower and the Space Needle, riding the Light Rail and Monorail, and catching up over a couple of meals.
Passing through precipitation in Snoqualmie Pass, Washington. We loved these vistas of water, trees, and the snowy, fog-covered mountains. Trees hug the road as we passed through Snoqualmie Pass, Washington.Looking West into Elliott Bay and Puget Sound from Columbia Center Tower. Seattle, Washington.Looking North at the Space Needle and Puget Sound from Columbia Center Tower. Seattle, Washington.Looking East at I-90’s floating bridge across Lake Washington to Mercer Island. From Columbia Center Tower, Seattle, Washington.Mama Lucy walking the hills of downtown Seattle, Washington.Mama Lucy at the Space Needle, Seattle, WA.The Space Needle, Seattle, WA.Neon Monorail sign. Seattle WA. Neon looks extra special in this grey, rainy, foggy environment. More NEON Seattle! More NEON! 🙂Walruses decorate the Arctic Club Building, in Seattle, Washington. It was built in 1916 for the Arctic Club, a social group for those who gained wealth in Alaska’s Klondike Gold Rush.Seattle, Washington’s Light Rail tunnel.
November 13: Seattle to Ocean Shores, Washington. Starting mileage: 36,445.
Early the next morning, Mama Lucy and I stopped by Pike’s Place Market for a walk around and a stash of food: savory potato and cheese pirogies from Piroshky Piroshky, light, fluffy and yummy chocolate croissants from Le Panier, and hot coffee from the very first Starbucks. It’s no wonder Starbucks sprouted in Seattle. Hot coffee tastes extra special in that rainy, foggy environment.
Cargo containers lined the side of the interstates around Seattle. Washington. Fascinating to see so many of those cargo ships coming/going from Seattle’s port. Seattle imports furniture parts, aircraft parts, and car parts and exports civilian aircraft, soybeans, and corn. The top three trade partners of Seattle Port are China, Canada, and South Korea (according to USTradeNumbers.com).Neon inside Pike’s Place Market. Seattle, WA. Mama Lucy at Public Market – Farmers Market – Pike’s Place as the sun tries to come out. Seattle, WA.At last, blue skies! Public Market neon sign in a nearly-clear sky at Pike’s Place. Seattle, WA.
We left a partly sunny Seattle. Next, we planned to stay an afternoon and night at the Pacific Ocean. I’d researched carefully to find a hotel as close to the ocean as possible so that we could enjoy a walk on the beach and the sounds of the Pacific at night. However, weather reports told us we were driving into a storm.
Ocean Shores and an angry Pacific Ocean
The further west we drove, the darker the skies became. Soon, the wind and the rain came. By the time we reached the northern peninsula separating Gray’s Harbor from the ocean, the wind gusts were punching the car. We marveled at how much the trees lining the road could bend, and drove cautiously past blue signs noting this was a “Tsunami Hazard Area”, and we were on a “Tsunami Evacuation Route”. The Pacific, sometimes visible between houses and forests, was angry, tossing waves high and hard into the shoreline. We pulled in to an empty parking lot at the Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn. The wind nearly blew the door off the car when we got out. Thankfully, we were able to check in early and we tucked in to our cozy room to watch the storm.
Wind swept the grasses; white caps were visible in the fog and mist. This was not a pacified Pacific, but a wide, wild expanse of fury. We sat in our little living room, picnicking on our Pike’s Place market pirogies and croissants. Despite the storm charge in the air, it was a quiet, relaxing afternoon. We read, did laundry, journaled, talked, and daydreamed. We were two of just eighteen guests at the hotel that day. Later, I’d dreamed of waves and flying over mountains like a bird.
Trees and rain, driving into the storm from Seattle to Ocean Shores, WA.Pouring rain at the Pacific Ocean at Ocean Shores, WA.
November 14: Ocean Shores, WA to Portland, OR. Starting mileage: 36,596.
Bad road to an angry Pacific Ocean. Ocean Shores, WA.
The next morning, the rain seemed to have tapered, but the wind was still raging. Regardless, I walked to the beach to pay respects to the Pacific Ocean…and to thank it for not coming for us during the night. The waves were syncopated, nearly constant and loud. The sand skidded and swirled across the beach. Seagulls sat in forlorn groups near dunes, soaked and caked in muddy sand. I took photos and tried to avoid the sand blasting my eyes and my camera. Sand stung my cheeks, stuck to my hair, and blew into my mouth. The seagulls came closer–one in particular looked like he was asking for help. I wished I’d brought bread. As I took a photo of him with our hotel in the background, the rain returned. There was lightning. I couldn’t hear the thunder for the roar of the Pacific. Turning my back on the wind (but not the ocean!), I pushed my camera into a bag and said “Goodbye” to the Pacific and “Good Luck” to the seagull. I was soaked to the skin by the time I got back to the room.
An angry Pacific Ocean. Ocean Shores, WA.Soaking wet seagull at the Pacific Ocean. Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn in the background. Ocean Shores, Washington.
Storm at the Pacific Ocean
Turns out, this windstorm was extremely powerful. Winds were sustained at 30-40 mph and gusted to 60 mph. There was a high surf advisory and “significant beach erosion and wave run-up was possible”. Trees were falling. Power lines were coming down. Heavy rain was coming. We didn’t know all that at the time, and went about packing up and loading out. Mama went down for the luggage cart while I changed into dry clothes. And then, the power went out. A pop, a flicker, then silence.
Oh no, Mama would be in the elevator by now! I grabbed the key and ran out of the room towards the elevator, yelling for her. The place was eerily quiet. I heard no other guests, just the wind whipping the flags and the windows. The hallways were lit only by window light. Doors were closed in places I had not even noticed had doors. The stairwell emergency light was on. Just as I hit the darkened lobby, Mama walked out of the elevator. She’d been stuck in the dark elevator for about two minutes. Thankfully, she’d rung the bell and the receptionist got her out on the ground floor right away. They told us that the power was out because of a lightning strike, and just how bad this storm was. Fortunately, the power was out for only about 30 minutes.
Lobby lit by the windows and an emergency lantern during the power outage. Best Western Lighthouse Suites Inn at Ocean Shores, WA.
On the road to Portland, Oregon
As we drove out of Ocean Shores, we marveled at the raw power of nature, and the fine line this community lived on there next to the powerful Pacific Ocean.
This area of the country has such a fragrant, fresh, stunning beauty because of the trees, mountains, and the rain. However, the logging of trees provides income to the residents. As a result, it is common to see fresh-cut tree logs piled high on semi-trucks, and logs and lumber stacked high at roadside factories. I wondered if the trees along the roads mourned their fallen kin.
Fresh air and forests line the drive from Ocean Shores, WA to Portland, OR.Alas, this frequent sight, a log-carrying truck in Oregon.…And, a logging facility in Oregon.Hairnets for the mountains. Portland, OR.
Finally, we were in Portland for one big reason…to see our friend Tonya and eat at her pizza place, Via Chicago. She makes the pizzas from scratch. If you’re in Portland, you won’t regret stopping by for a tasty Chicago pizza pie.
You know the saying, “she can’t see the forest for the trees”? It is a derogatory phrase…like when someone is said to “miss the big picture” or “bogs down in details”.
I’ve had forests and trees on my mind a lot in the past few months…feeling something like guilt or shame or frustration for the hours wasted on doing the “little” things. I wonder some times if I’ve lost the trail.
But on this cool, rainy, September early morning, I woke up with some satisfying clarity on the positive side of that saying.
Life is a whole forest. It is also just one tree. Each tree. Each day. I don’t know how big the forest is, or when I will walk out of it. So, I’m going to enjoy my walk through the trees, appreciating the sun and the shade, the rain and the wind, the sounds and the silence, and give my attention to one tree at a time.
A funny thing seems to happen when I consider that one tree long enough…I perceive the pattern around it. And I find comfort in that.
Enjoy your walk.
A vine crisscrosses a tree. April 2015 at Radnor Lake in Nashville, Tennessee.
The trees and vines begin to bloom, Spring 2015 at Radnor Lake in Nashville, TN.
A vine entwines a tree at Radnor Lake, Nashville, TN. Spring 2015.
On this rainy Spring day in April 2015, we walked amid the trees. Absorbing. Radnor Lake, Nashville, TN.
Three quiet October days in Telluride. The place holds a special place in my heart.
I first visited Telluride on a media trip in 1999, just a couple of weeks after my Grandmother passed away. I was tired. My heart hurt from crying. And I ached to see her again, to talk to her some more…just a little more. While the rest of the group skied, I spent time in solitude…staring at the mountains. And in those moments, I found a peace that comforts me to this day.
So, when I realized that I’d be within a 6 hour drive of Telluride just a few days before my birthday, I decided to return.
The “6 hour drive” from Santa Fe turned into an 8 hour drive because I stopped so many times to admire the wide open spaces and the long winding roads through the pueblos and reservations of New Mexico.
Driving north from Santa Fe
I arrived in Mountain Village just before dark, threw my stuff in the room, and took the first of about a dozen gondola rides up and over the mountain into beautiful little Telluride.
Peace on the Mountain
I would spend only 3 nights there–waiting for the sun to rise and set on the mountain top, soaking up the sun on the streets of Telluride or my sweet little balcony, walking the side streets and trails with my camera, looking for the even-numbered magpies, sketching and writing in the coffee shops, and savoring a little time in the spa. Good days.
The Gondola into TellurideMake a Map: Things to do in the coffee shopThe gondola goes from Mountain Village up and over the mountain to Telluride in about 15 magic minutes.On the MountainWaiting for the sun to set on the mountain top…October 6, 2013.Pre-dawn ride to the Mountain top…October 7, 2013Sunrise…on Telluride’s Mountain…October 7, 2013
Another year around the sun
On my birthday, I was on the first gondola to the mountain top. I walked across the ridge waiting for the sunrise, my boots crunching the frosted grass. Three elk stopped about 50 feet in front of me. I could see their breath clouds. After a silent few minutes of mutual acknowledgement, they returned to grazing and I to walking. I heard their antlers tapping together a few minutes later and turned to see two of them playing like puppies on the mountain side. Just after sunrise, I called my mother and father from the mountain top. I talked to several friends that day, had a massage, enjoyed some home-made ice cream and had a perfect little day. And as I went back over the mountain the final time that evening in the quiet dark of my own gondola, I whispered a few things to my precious grandmother.
Telluride from the gondola in the deep quiet solitude of the mountainside.
I drove out of Telluride in the still pitch-black morning…at one point, I heard hooves clicking and clacking on the road. Eyes glistening in the dark indicated it was a family of deer. They ran alongside my car, for just a minute, on that winding mountain road. Ah, Telluride…I’ll be back!
