Breakfast was provided by the hotel, but it was the kind of breakfast that made me more concerned about who would be providing the toilets. But at least it made our morning easy and let us hit the road relatively early.
Unfortunately, Donyel and Cicely weren’t quite as lucky with their room, and had to go down the road to a sister property. So we hung out in the lobby until they joined us, and were relieved to hear that motel attempt #2 was far more successful.
We only had one scheduled destination that day: Fern Canyon, a stunning State Park that requires time-specific permits to limit the environmental impact of visitors. (We had our act together for that one.) But our reservation wasn’t until late afternoon, so we made a quick stop at the quintessential Redwoods roadside attraction: a drive-through tree.
As far as 1950s kitsch goes, this one was pretty cool. I tried not to think about someone taking a chainsaw to a 2,400 year old tree. But us not visiting wouldn’t put the tree back together. Plus, the kids loved the massive tree trunks turned climbing structure (and we loved that it pulled their attention away from the gift shop).
The second attraction was a rolling one. The Avenue of the Giants runs parallel to the 101, meandering through alternating sections of redwood forests and tiny towns right out of a Normal Rockwell painting. Lots of pie shops, Paul Bunyan statues, and front-porch bear carvings. Roadside Americana at its best.
After traversing through about half of it, we headed back onto the 101 for the rest of the journey. The Avenue of the Giants was beautiful, but we wanted to make sure that we made it to Fern Canyon during our reservation window.
And I’m so glad we did. Even the drive to Fern Canyon was absolutely stunning.
The meandering dirt road weaved through a prehistoric forest with an extremely dense canopy. It was otherworldly, and didn't feel like anything else I’ve seen in this country or any other.
After about four miles of this magic, we rolled up to the ranger station, showed our permit, and paid the entrance fee. The ranger at the window asked if we had been there before. When we told her we hadn’t, she told us that Elk had been seen in the park that day (pretty cool), but also bears (less cool) and mountain lions (not cool). Every National and State Park I’ve ever been to has a generic bear warning at the entrance. I typically walk right past it. But something about this ranger’s warning made me feel like we might actually encounter one today. Or far more concerningly, a mountain lion. To really bring it home, she asked us to stop by her post on our way out and tell us if we saw any of those animals on our hike.
Um, first of all, that’s making a very big assumption about the fatality of our hypothetical encounter. But also, I’m pretty sure you’ll hear me plenty clear from inside the park.
After receiving the ranger's warning, I kept a tight leash on the kids. But probably a bit too tight. I spent the first mile of the hike wrestling with which of several competing hazards I should be focused on. "Don't run, kids. Unless there's a bear. Then do run. But not if there's a mountain lion. Then definitely don't run. Stay closer. But also go explore. And no, you can't go on my shoulders." Then there was the ongoing inner monologue of maybe I'm being too hard on them. Or maybe not hard enough.
Parenthood.
But thankfully my self-analysis didn’t keep me from looking up, because this place was absolutely stunning.
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| Mimi made friends with a banana slug |
Once we had been in the park for a bit and I convinced myself that a mountain lion wouldn’t be running off with one or both of my children, I lightened up and we had a blast crawling through the trees and fording the streams running through the canyon. It was delightful.
On our way out, I gladly breezed past the ranger's station with nothing to report. Then we made the last bit of our drive to the house that we’d be staying at for the next few days. There was a massive yard for the kids to play in, shade from 100 foot tall redwoods, and a tranquil lake out the back.
As I write this from the back porch the next morning, I’m watching the kids running laps around the house pretending to be wild animals, the moms chatting and reading books in the shade, and the other dads playing ping-pong in the garage. This is summer camp, and I could really get used to living out here in the forest. Maybe I will actually look into that Yosemite assignment.
