On my second morning, on the way to Hidden Beach, traffic slowed on the main highway through Redwood National Park, and the fog that had eluded me finally materialized. I pulled over and was instantly drawn down in to the damp woods beside the pull off. There was no path, but I was instantly drawn to a hauntingly beautiful composition of alders, moss, and redwoods. There is something so wonderful and primal about being among the tallest trees in the world. Old growth forests with many trees exceeding 1000 - 2000 years old. A place where ferns are easily taller than you, and where you get the chilling feeling that either an Ewok or a dinosaur are watching you. If you've never had the impulse to literally hug a tree, you might among the Redwoods. Only to find that your outstretched arms don't even cover 1/10th of the circumference. The inside of some of these stumps are larger than some New York City apartments. Let's just say, it was a difficult transition coming back to Florida... And it had nothing to do with jet lag or the redeye flight.
"In the silence of the woods, you will not be alone" - Chief Seattle
