California... California, Here we Come

We traded the warm, vine-covered hill country of inland Oregon for the chilly northern coast of California. The sun was our only constant as we traveled West in search of more waves.

Our first California stop was at a tightly packed RV park just outside of Crescent City. We were lucky to find anything last minute (I cancelled our pre-booked stop at a place with no hook-ups), so even though we were surrounded by long-term residents and had little room of our own, we made it work. In planning the trip, Crescent City was a draw for me because it was near Redwoods State and National Park. Redwoods the National Park is made up of several chunks of redwood tree groves, some as far north as Crescent City and some further south and inland.

We were quickly introduced to the giant trees when the last 10 minutes of our drive down the 101 into Crescent City had us tightly hugging the swinging curves of the highway, overcompensating as we leaned sideways to help avoid sideswiping the immense 250+-year-old redwoods that stood long before the road existed.

Crescent City itself was not the most welcome introduction to California. It was very much a small working-class town that had let itself go and couldn’t muster up enough energy to take advantage of its coastline beauty.

We often try to use the first evening in a new place to drive through town, explore, and find places that we want to come back to during our stay. Let’s just say it was a short drive. We did, however, find the historic Battery Point lighthouse and neighboring boardwalk.

Battery Point Lighthouse is one of the oldest lighthouses in California and has been in use since 1856. It sits out on a point and up on a huge rock – almost like its own little island – and it becomes inaccessible during high tide. How quaint, right? It has survived tsunami waves and storms that send crashing waves and wind up and over the top of the hundred-year-old structures.

The lighthouse keeper came out to greet us while we were there. He explained that he had been on a waiting list for the keeper job for over 4 years and had finally won the opportunity to be the volunteer of the month. It comes with quite the view. We learned a lot from his willingness to show us around.

On day two in Crescent City Audrey turned 3! We celebrated with pancakes in the shape of a 3, a glorious hike through the redwoods, as I’m sure most 3-year-olds only dream of doing on their birthdays, and of course, capped the day off with cake, ice cream, and a few presents.

Back to that hike though. Wow. The redwoods are as magical as they say. You can’t help but channel John Muir: “And into the forest I go, to lose my mind and find my soul.” The redwoods are truly unbelievable. Their aura escapes accurate description in photos or words; their enormity is beyond compare.

What’s crazy is that you can drive up to the edge of the woods, park the truck, and have no idea you are next to an old growth forest. Then, you start your walk into the woods and suddenly you see tree trunks bigger than your car and you look up, but you can’t see the tops of the trees – they’re too tall. Alex and I wandered through the woods trading glances of awe and amazement, while the girls, trailing behind and sometimes running ahead (not sure, I lost track), were oblivious to the grandiosity of what was in front of them. We were reluctant to leave, but sensitive to the fact that we had a 3-year-old birthday party to make.

Birthdays on the road have been predictably less stressful than they were when we were stationary, and even more low-key than I imagined they would be. Without the space for new things or time/space/energy to make too big of a to-do about the occasion, we have kept the celebrations to a minimum. That’s not to say we don’t ask the girls what they want to do and try to make it fun for them. And of course, we make an effort to have cake and blow out candles. But we skip big, elaborate gifts and (obviously) avoid over-the-top parties.

I’d like to keep up this trend when we return home, but I am also a big believer in celebrating – whether it be occasions or accomplishments, finish lines or successes. It’s the self-imposed pressure to make a perfect birthday that I could do without, and which has been entirely lacking on this trip in the best way. That’s the feeling I hope to continue! Alex says the clock turns just the same, the girls are just as happy with low key, and they maybe even appreciate the smaller things that were previously overlooked. Or maybe we are pushing that narrative on them.

The rest of the week we did school at the campground and the playground, trying to stay focused enough to get through math, reading, writing and history before losing the girls to the lure of the slides.

We walked the tide pools and beaches around Crescent City and found all sorts of fun things – sea anemones, purple crabs, snails, and so, so many sand dollars. Even after hours of collecting, finding a full sand dollar never fails to feel magical.

We moved on from Crescent City to a small, quiet, and secluded campground just north of Trinidad, California – still very far north in the state. Audrey and I went on a mini adventure in the rv park and found dozens of banana slugs creeping along the sides of trees and across the wet ground.

As a family we hiked around an oceanside peninsula on a trail carved between tall hedges. It was as if we were mere mice wandering through a maze, dead-ends and all. We spent the afternoon lounging on the nearby beach. We finally broke out the paddle ball game and mom and dad had an epic battle. Meanwhile the waves crashed consistently, landing loud and heavy-handed on the shore. We only took off our jackets after working up a sweat side-lunging after the little rubber ball.

After our first redwood experience, we were eager for another chance to see the mighty wonders up close. So we ventured south toward another redwood grove and sought out a moderately rated (that is, manageable with children) hike. Again, it started out unremarkable, with pavement leading to a wide dirt trail lined with thick shrubs and weeds. Yet we quickly entered the stark darkness of the forest through a tunnel of leaves.

The sun appeared only in streaks that peaked softly through the openings between the trees. The redwoods were again majestic. I was glad to experience the forest in the late afternoon and catch the warm, glowing light – a contrast to the morning hikes we are used to.

This particular forest was straight out of a fairy tale with huge ferns lining the floor, the giant trees exploding upward, and little bridges crossing gently flowing streams. It was glorious and it ended up being longer than the map originally indicated. The girls were (mostly) troopers and we made it out before it got dark – fhew!

(Alex’s addition) - Later in the week we ventured to Arcata to find a farmer’s market, and were unwittingly introduced to stereotypical California in a hurry. The farmer’s market was in a cute central park in the middle of Arcata. It took up a full city block and it was absolutely packed. I can only describe it as the nightmare of a Fox News host. Barefoot, long-haired, crystal waving hippies dominated the scene. There was the guy sitting cross-legged on the grass rolling glass orbs around his arms and heads, the constant marijuana smell (still hasn’t been normalized for us), and the dreadlocked, shirtless buskers selling handmade bracelets and necklaces out of their minivans. It was something. It made every farmer’s market we visited up to that point seem like buttoned up black tie events – and we were previously in Portland! The girls had a lot of questions, we had almost no answers, but the produce selection was fantastic!