I first experienced old-growth redwoods at Big Basin Redwoods State Park shortly after I moved to the Bay Area in 2007. Immediately, I felt there was something otherworldly about the forest. The ground cover was thick with ferns, moss, felled trees, and other low-lying plants. Most of the old redwoods didn’t have branches lower than 100 feet, and the trees were spread far apart, so I could see the expanse of the park. Through the dense canopy, light came through in slim streaks, and the quiet was unlike anything I had ever experienced before. It seemed like a glimpse of another time and place.
Since then, I have traveled to see old-growth redwoods in Northern California numerous times. Few things compare to the feeling I get amid them. It could be the height (some stretching over 300 feet), the girth (some having diameters up to 20 feet wide), or the age (some more than 2,000 years old). It could be the oxygen they emit—as much as 250 “normal” trees—or the amount of CO2 they sequester, as they’re the most efficient above-ground organisms regarding carbon storage. It could be the environment they engender, pulling water from fog into their leaves and the soil to create a uniquely moist and shady ecosystem within their branches and root zones.
Some redwoods stretch to more than 300 feet tall.
Photo by Jack MacDonough
Coast redwoods originally grew as far south as Big Sur in Monterey County, stretching 450 miles up along the coastal mountains to the northern border of the state. But between 1850 and 2000, more than 95 percent of the original trees were tragically harvested for financial gain: Redwood lumber is highly resistant to rot, decay, and infestation and is very strong and durable and doesn’t warp. Today, while second-growth redwood forests stand where much of the old growth used to be, finding old growth is challenging. Though the closest place to San Francisco to experience old-growth redwoods is John Muir Woods National Monument, 15 miles north of the city, I recommend venturing farther, to Redwood National and State Parks.
Comprising three state parks and one national park (Del Monte Coast Redwoods State Park, Jedediah Smith Redwoods State Park, Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park, and Redwood National Park), the sites start about 320 miles north of San Francisco. Together, Redwood National and State Parks have 240 times more acreage than Muir Woods and thousands more trees; their largest trees are also far larger and older than those in Muir Woods.
While more than 1 million people visit Redwood National and State Parks every year, most visitors do not venture more than a few steps from their cars, even though California State Parks says more than four miles of trails are accessible to people with disabilities; there are more than 200 miles of other trails. In August, I traveled there for the first time in six years with Jack, my brother-in-law. Jack was primarily interested in photographing and needed to walk only a couple of hundred yards from our car to be away from other people. While Jack and I stayed together for most of the trip, he knew that I was yearning to have some time to walk among the redwoods on my own.
On previous trips, I had done the 12-mile James Irvine–Miners Ridge loop, which took me through the most beautiful old-growth forest I have ever seen. The full loop includes the unique Fern Canyon and a one-mile walk along the Pacific on Gold Bluffs Beach. But I was there for the old-growth forest, so on this visit, I shortened my hike to about 7.5 miles by cutting over from the Irvine trail to Miners Ridge on the Clintonia Trail. I felt like I was in heaven. I didn’t see another person the whole length of the James Irvine Trail until I reached the Clintonia cutoff.
My mind was at one moment lost in this forest fairyland, and the next moment, I would come face-to-face with a particularly magnificent old soul. I stayed still and stared at it, contemplating its life of centuries. I could see some of the trauma it had faced; fire damage was plainly visible. Redwood bark is thick and heavily resistant to fire; even when fire gets beyond the bark to the trunk, a redwood can survive and grow around a scar. Often when faced with a trauma, a redwood will swell a bank of dormant buds and woody tissue to create burls. Burls store nutrients and water and, most importantly, provide a bank of genetic material that can sprout into new trees. These trees are not only beautiful but also tough and incredibly suited to continuity.
Redwood bark is thick and heavily resistant to fire.
Photos by Jack MacDonough
They are also part of a community. A 300-foot-tall redwood’s roots don’t stretch deeper than six feet; instead, they go very broad, sometimes up to 100 feet in each direction. Their roots intertwine with those of other redwoods, and that gives them tremendous strength to withstand high winds and floods.
Even in death, a redwood supports the remaining trees. Little rain can reach the forest floor because of the canopy. So when a redwood falls and begins decomposing, its massive trunk, branches, and bark break down over many, many years. Their slow decay provides long-term nutrient reservoirs, helping to build spongy soils that support future forest growth.
I am surprised at how few Californians I know have gone to Redwood National and State Parks. For one thing, the parks are far from large population centers and popular vacation spots, which I consider an asset. Plus, I don’t think many people fully appreciate the difference between the redwoods they see in more frequently visited spots and the ones up north. I think it is largely because it is so difficult to appreciate a 2,000-year-old, 20-foot-wide, 300-foot-tall tree in a photo.
Jack is the former CEO of Miller Brewing Company and has become a professional photographer since he left the beer business. He was mesmerized by the old-growth redwoods and hugely challenged by trying to capture them on film.
People look at pictures of Yosemite, Zion, and Yellowstone and are drawn to the iconic images, which fuel future travels. The big redwoods, ironically, don’t stand out photographically nearly to the same extent. A visitor cannot see the tops of the trees, as they are so impossibly high and blocked by branches hundreds of feet above. You can get some appreciation for the width of the trees in an image with the perspective of a human body, as in the photo that Jack took of me inside an old tree hollowed out by fire, but even that doesn’t capture the whole thing—or become a viral Instagram hit.
The author inside one of the big trees in Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park.
Photo by Jack MacDonough
Also tamping down interest in visiting the big trees is the fact that the park management actively discourages visitors from identifying the tallest trees. For instance, what is believed to be the tallest tree in the world, Hyperion, at 380 feet tall, is in Redwood National Park, but its location—as well as the location of many other tallest trees—is not identified by the park to help prevent damage to the area.
One of the few exceptions to not identifying the tall trees is “The Big Tree,” which is right off the main road through Prairie Creek .75 miles from the visitor center. The Big Tree has an appropriately big parking lot, and a short walk took us to an old-growth redwood with a wooden base in front of it so that lots of visitors can attempt to photograph themselves in front of the Big Tree. (Jack and I obliged.) Still, the Big Tree is “only” 286 feet tall while the 94-foot higher Hyperion is likely within 10–15 miles. Nearby, there is a signpost with one sign pointing at the Big Tree saying, “The Big Tree” and one pointing the opposite direction, but to nothing in particular, saying “Even Bigger Trees.” More than just being amusing, I think this captures the spirit of exploration in the parks. Big trees abound in this magical corner of the world. For me, I don’t think it is about seeing the “tallest,” the “oldest,” the “widest,” or any individual tree. I am happy celebrating the ones that catch my attention, but mostly I love soaking up the forest environment that they have created and maintained over thousands of years.
The Big Tree is “only” 286 feet tall.
Photos by Jack MacDonough
I sometimes compare experiencing old-growth redwoods with the Grand Canyon—ridiculous, perhaps, as the two are so very different in every tangible characteristic. But Prairie Creek State Park and the Grand Canyon elicit similar responses and feelings from me. They each make my single human life feel relatively small and insignificant, yet in a beautiful and even comforting way. As living organisms, redwoods’ age pales to the hundreds of millions of years represented by the geological layers of the Grand Canyon. But the fact that many of the redwoods have been alive for more than 1,000 years—withstanding fires and innumerable tragedies, both natural and man-made—makes them especially powerful. They go on supporting each other in this incredible forest, a glimmer of what used to be. But continuing on nonetheless. And this gives me hope.
How to get there
Redwood National and State Parks are a six-hour drive from San Francisco, if you take Highway 101, a mostly four-lane highway. Instead, I took the more leisurely route up the coast on Highway 1 and stayed overnight at Sea Ranch on the Sonoma Coast. I then continued up Highway 1 through Mendocino Country until the highway merges into Highway 101 at the northern end of Mendocino County. I returned to San Francisco on Highway 101 but got off the 101 for about 30 miles through the gorgeous (and much slower) two-lane Avenue of the Giants in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, which also has many old-growth redwoods.
The closest airport to the parks is California Redwood Coast airport (sometimes referred to Humboldt County or Arcata–Eureka), 30 miles south of the Redwood National and State Parks.
Where to stay
On past visits, I have stayed in or near Arcata and Eureka, two small cities of around 20,000 each that border Humboldt Bay. Arcata (the northernmost) is 38 miles south of Redwood National and State Parks. This trip, I stayed two miles south of the park in Orick (population 300) at Roosevelt Base Camp, a former 1950s roadside motel that currently has six rooms with more being slowly being remodeled by Carrie Greenlaw and her partner Greg Hufford, whose family has lived in the area for five generations. They also hope to reopen the old Palm Café soon, which would be welcome; there are few dining options nearby.
Where to eat
Fortunately, Molly Murphy and Jordan Greco have opened Mojo Pizza in a red trailer an easy walk across 101 from the Roosevelt Base Camp. Murphy and Greco make fresh thin crust pizza that Jack and I loved. One of their specials had rhubarb syrup, gorgonzola, roasted poblanos, parmesan, and mozzarella. They have purchased the building behind their trailer and have designs on remodeling it, adding games and more attractions. It is exciting to see both couples’ enthusiasm and dedication to revitalizing the area.
Trinidad, 20 miles south, offers more dining options. Our favorite was Trinidad Bay Eatery and Grill, a no-reservations place for seafood and steak. While you wait for a table, you can order delicious oysters from Humboldt Bay and beers and relax on the patio. A more refined dining option that we also enjoyed was Larrupin’ Café, a long-running, locally owned fine-dining spot two miles north of Trinidad.
What to read
The Wild Trees by Richard Preston. This has a slow start as it delves into the backstories of the characters who end up in the search for the tallest redwoods. But you will be fascinated as they go to extreme lengths to wander the forests and climb, yes, climb to the tops of these 350-foot+ high trees to properly measure their height. They love these trees, and one couple even get married up in the trees. This New York Times bestseller will help fuel your fascination for the trees.
The Ghost Forest by Greg King is more a more sobering and frustrating look at what happened to the 95 percent of the old growth that we lost, and a gripping fight to save some of the last 5 percent. One of King’s more disturbing assertions was that Save the Redwoods League was created in 1918 when 60 percent of old-growth redwood were still standing, but that League was dominated by industrialists more interested in ensuring most of the redwoods were exploited for industrial uses and only wanted to save small groves.
