California coastal redwoods

If you’re from the East Coast, as I am, there’s little that can prepare you for seeing redwood trees up close. They’re impossibly tall and wide. You can’t put your arms around them and you often can’t see the tops of them. Your hand can disappear into the creases of the bark. If trees had Greek gods, the redwoods would be among them.

It’d been about 15 years since we visited this part of Marin county just north of the Golden Gate Bridge. The kids were little then, hamming around and posing in front of trees that swallowed them up. This time, we parked on the side of the road at what’s known as the Miur Woods Panoramic Trail and hiked down into the canyon, more or less equals.

A few things happen as you descend. First, the light fades as the canopy of the forest begins to block out the sun. What light remains is filtered and gentle. It grows quieter, too, the deeper you go—not just the sound of traffic from the road but bird calls, too. The crows you see in abundance on the coast don’t seem to come here, just an occasional cheep from a small forest dweller. Apparently, the tannins in the bark of these majestic trees repels insects just as the deep shade limits the numbers of flowers and fruits that grow. Finally, as the air grows cooler and more fragrant, the vegetation on the forest floor lessens. The constantly dropping needles and shade make the soil inhospitable for competition.

This is what old-growth forests look like. A dominant species of tree with wide-open spaces below.

The average age of the coastal redwoods in Miur Woods is between 600 and 800 years with some surpassing 1,200 years old. That dates the forest back to the time of Charlemagne in Europe and well before most of human civilization’s self-destructive folly. I thought about the wisdom of these ancient beings as we hiked alongside them. They’ve seen so much, felt countless tremors and earthquakes underground and endured countless fires up above. And still they endure, guardians of the time before us. Being among them was humbling. The hushed environment and filtered light were beautiful. It made me think about my place in the world and how I can help leave behind a better place than the one I was born into. It’s as close to a spiritual experience as I’ve ever had.