The Trailhead

Leave it to a tree to inspire me. To those who know me, this should come as no surprise. I must admit, however, that it caught me off guard. Within a mile's walk of Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park Visitor Center, I turned a corner on a deserted trail and nearly stumbled at the sight. The tallest living thing I have ever seen was standing not 100 yards from me. Starting at its trunk, bathed in sunlight thanks to a few weaker trees that had fallen and left a hole in the canopy, I peered over every foot until I was looking at the limbs. I could not see the top. The mass of life that protruded from its upper third obscured just how tall it really was. I laughed at the sight, and pulled off the trail to catch my breath.

As I sat, regarding the immensity of what lay before me, I saw bugs and forest debris floating in the sunlight. It struck me how, given the redwood's lifespan, a passerby like myself would seem, at least to any anthropomorphic memory that the tree may possess, just as the bugs of the forest had seemed to me: mostly insignificant. Then I realized that this wasn't really true. To this tree, I belong to the generation of bugs that will most likely witness, if not primarily cause, its untimely demise. It was a sobering thought. I began to wonder, if someone in several centuries will look back and wonder why nothing was done. Surely, the day will come when someone will question whether anyone cared.

I began to ponder the other passerby's in the tree's history. Certainly, some of my heroes must have gazed upon the very same tree that I was now passing. Certainly John Muir had seen it. David Douglas probably had. Teddy Roosevelt had maybe even been here. What an amazing connection to have with an honored historical figure. To have seen the same living thing. Not just the same living thing, but the same living thing that we felt compelled to protect.

My hope for this journal is to provide the reader with the musings and sights of an adventurer in the Pacific Northwest, and sometimes beyond. I hope that someday, when some of these wild places may not be as wild, somebody may be able to look back and realize that we didn't just care for those wild places, we loved them.

"Any fool can destroy trees. They cannot defend themselves or run away. And few destroyers of trees ever plant any; nor can planting avail much toward restoring our grand aboriginal giants. It took more than three thousand years to make some of the oldest of the Sequoias, trees that are still standing in perfect strength and beauty, waving and singing in the mighty forests of the Sierra. Through all the 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 storms; but he cannot save them from sawmills and fools; this is left to the American people."

- John Muir, Sierra Club Bulletin, January 1920