The Avenue of the Giants was not shy. As we headed down 101, we took the alternate route. Groves of old-growth forests, preserved by individuals who bought the land, stood uncut. The only trees down were ones that had fallen.
We stepped off the road into a grove of trails and stood in the fog ribboned forest alone. Huge clover and moss covered logs that had probably fallen before the time of Christ, creating hills and valleys that we respectfully navigated. The standing forest soared to invisible heights. The deeply grooved and gnarled bark attested to the centuries of growth. Again, we felt our mortality. So we decided to test it on the most amazing motorcycle road in the US - Route 1.
We had our lunch at Standish-Hickey State Park where campers hung tapestries of Bob Marley on trees by their campsites. Yes, we are in California.
Route 1 was our dessert. The road through the mountains was a biker's dream. Jules and Magic worked as one, sweeping into turns, climbing switchbacks, roaring up steep inclines and I, gratefully came along for the ride.
And then the ocean. As we rode along crumbling highway, hiking out over rocky cliffs below, three hearts beat together. The machine becomes Jules and Jules becomes me and we soar together.
Our day has progressed from the ethereal to the sublime. Tonight, I will hopefully dream of ancient trees and powerful oceans and the meeting of the two.
beautiful!
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