If that's the price for roughing it, I'll stay at a Motel 6

I'm able to post again today since a campsite at Humboldt State Park is $45, and a room at this Motel 6 is $50. Touch choice, but this particular M6 isn't have bad. Eureka, California seems to exist only for the purpose of being the regional urban center for this part of the world. It has everything you need, including a Safeway and a CVS; this is key since I happened to gift my toiletries to the airport hotel in San Francisco. Now while I'm willing to rough it to some extent, foregoing tothpaste for a month might alienate even the wildlife.

So today's prime goal was to Humboldt Redwoods State Park. This was do to a recommendation from a random randonneur I had met in Death Valley in April, who said this park was as good if not better than Redwoods NP. Since that's on tomorrow's itinerary, I will reserve judgement for now. To get to the park, I had to continue the journey on Highway 1, and the accolades continue for this being a scenic and engaging drive. With no extra traffic (a 7am departure) I must recommend that anyone with a decent handling car and the opportunity to do so drive the Hardy to Piercy segment. The tarmac is in perfect condition, the banking calculations were spot on, and the surroundings are fantastic -- just stay within your limits since the alternatives are hitting an 8' tree trunk, or going into a steep ravine (and then hitting an 8' tree trunk.)

Once in the park, the Avenue of the Giants scenic byway is just as interesting, where larger trees (park-worthy -- trees so big they name many of them) are up to within inches of the side of the road, which slaloms between the giants. More than a few trees bear the battle scars of a foolhardy RV driver. There's lots of places to pull over and gawk and, while I succumbed to some extent, my main option was the day use area in the bottoms of Bull Creek -- the largest old-growth redwood grove in the world. Big -- massively big -- trees everwhere, and you're hiking over, under, through, and between them. You are never more than a few feet from standing and windfallen trees. They're all scorched too -- whether from lightening or a ground-level fire I'm not sure. But the char never reaches more than 20-30' feet up, 100' lower than the first branches.

On a clear, cool day the bottoms are still, and all you hear is the creaking and moaning of intercrossed trunks and branches hundreds of feet above your head. And youre surrounded by the aroma of redwood; there is very little other vegetation, and splintered remnants of trunks are everywhere. It is difficult to convey the esprit when your alone, absolutely silent, in such an environment; it's the glee and giddiness I saw in some 5 years olds rushing up to the eponymous attraction of the Big Tree area, internalized and alone.