Crescent City, California – Ahoy! A two time tsunami survivor, this charismatic coastal town has got spunk. Draw in a fresh breath of freedom, and a faint odor of the daily catch. Head south for swimming and surf on warm sandy beaches that are surprisingly dog friendly. Across the north jetty terrain transforms as waves roll in and swallow prehistoric rock formations, occasionally leaving tourists stranded at Battery Point. On Anchor Way, the Chart Room Restaurant serves up classic Fish-n-Chips with crisp blonde ale while the Sea Lions serenade its patrons. Much like the bayside ballad, this adventure is a family affair. My mother, Queen of the gypsies, rides shotgun as we drift through beautiful beach towns, and get lost in the Redwood National Park. As she leans in to hug a tree ten times as wide, Mama talks about how she must have been a sapling in one of her past lives. “I see the vibrations of life force dancing on the surface of their hues. We have all been or will be a tree at some point.” She rests my hand on our ancient ancestor. “Can you feel the connection?” I can. Not much interest in the beaten path, we wade through waves of vibrant green clovers – jumping trails and smoking mountain air. While my mama snaps photos of the four foot ferns, and historical landmarks I climb every fallen trunk in site. I feel faint on a step ladder, but on Nature’s playground my fear is extinct. This primate is at home in the forest. A number of tourists stop to photograph the girl scaling trees with the greatest of ease. Solid earth beneath my Chucks again, she tells me a tale of the Redwood’s rape and pillage. Spinning stories of settlers who stripped it bare, and how she’ll never own a piece of Redwood furniture. “We are so blessed to have this small lot of majestic countryside.” My mother is passionate about three things: Nature Conservation Music and Me. I don’t remember watching much television growing up, but the radio was always on. If music is absent, we make our own – tapping toes and humming tunes. As we make our way back to the camp I sway to the rhythm of a familiar song…No gospel hymns or sweet lullabies from this mama, instead – Iron Butterfly’s In a Gadda Da Vida. My mom is so cool. If you’re cruising the coast on your way to the Redwoods, veer off the 101 and stop in for the best beer-battered cod on the PNW, and ask for Vanessa. Then toss those kicks, and let the beach do the rest. Same time next week. Safe Travels – VB
Posted on: Tue, 03 Sep 2013 23:05:54 +0000
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