Go with the flow

Above, is a canopy of redwoods, an impressionistic painting made even more ethereal without my glasses. Ribbons of sun and blue and burnt sienna surround me. And the silence, padded silence. I’m in the womb of Nature. Protected. Soft. When I close my eyes, I’m elevated to a familiar time and place, a lure that spider-thread’s my soul. 

No screaming (exuberant) children. No generators. My fellow campers speak in hushed tones out of reverence for this glorious gift to travelers, Humboldt Redwoods State Park. I’ve been here before with my amigos, slept in the belly of a burnt-out tree that they thought was creepy and I knew, as the sun rays glistened like Mom’s chandelier, was my needle-lined cradle; indeed, in this chapel of angels I was rocked to a most blissful sleep. 

This is what I needed for my first night away from the Central Coast: Ancient, familiar, and safe. I could easily stay here for a week. Alas, in a few minutes I will be gone to my next destination—Elk Prairie Creek Redwoods National and State Park—a place I’ve camped twice before. It is equally as reverent, albeit a little more crowded. 

Being here, off the road, with immensely respectful camp neighbors (extra clean bathroom and showers and NO trash anywhere) is the hush, hush, HUSH, my soul needed. 

My wet hair dries in the pine incense, my skin protected by the shadow of the trees; my glass-less eyes are sharper, telescoping the dichotomy of delicate green shouldered by giant towers, many of whom lived among the dinosaurs. None of it makes sense; it is scary, spectacular and I am alone, yet I’m laced by the movement of others.

The flapping wings of a crow remind me of the adventure that awaits. “It’s time,” he caws, to see what else is out there.”

Coffee. Yogurt, apple, and walnuts, then it’s time to bid this unplanned respite goodbye for now. Time to yee-haw take my covered wagon to hippyland, Arcata, before settling into my next temporary home.  

My new theme: go with the flow, ‘cuz it’s all working out.