POSTED: 06 FEBRUARY 2011

Destination: California's redwood forests

Ann Rickard recalls her trip into the Californian woods.

I loved watching Stephen Fry in America, especially the episode about the Pacific coast, when he drove from San Francisco up into tall tree country. We made the same journey not so long ago ... well, part of it at least, when we went in search of California’s fabled redwoods. It became quite the mission.

Out of San Francisco, driving along Highway 1, just as Stephen Fry did, we headed for Eureka, about as far north in the state as you can go and a good base for a redwood experience. These giants draw thousands of people each year into the region — and with good reason. They are the tallest trees on Earth and can live for 2000 years.

The drive took us through Petaluma in Sonoma County and further along the famous Highway 1, with the mighty Pacific crashing on one side, rolling green hills dotted with fat cows on the other.

We stopped at Mendocino, a town of quaint prettiness, with gift shops and galleries overlooking the ocean – and where Oprah has a mansion – and then after a couple more hours along the sinuous highway, we turned inland and finally arrived in Eureka early that evening.

Eureka’s streets are one-way and named after the alphabet, criss-crossing each other. We found accommodation on H Street after traversing A, B and C Streets and scurrying up and down D, E and F. It became very confusing later in the evening after dinner at the Waterside Oyster Bar — ambitiously named as it wasn’t waterfront and its menu was decidedly sans oysters — when we accidentally drove the wrong way all the way along F Street. But as we were the only car on the road that night, you could say noone gave an F.

In the morning we drove on, further and further north in search of the giant redwoods. We stopped at Trinidad Bay, a small seaside place of immense charm anchored to a high bluff. With a sprinkling of historic inns and a small lighthouse overlooking a serene bay speckled with yachts, it was as appealing a place as we’d seen on all our travels.

But still we had not reached the tall trees — a journey so effortlessly achieved by Stephen Fry and his camera crew. We felt as though we’d been travelling for weeks from one end of America to the other.

We drove through the tiny town of Orik, a place so empty we half expected a ball of tumbleweed to come rolling down the lonesome main street. There was nothing there but a roadside cafe and a shop selling giant wooden sculptures of bears rearing on hind legs, silently roaring at passing traffic.

We’d been warned about being in bear country. Bears were dangerous and always up for a fight. And the elks were dangerous too. “People think elks are harmless because they look gentle but they are more dangerous than bears,” our hosts back at Eureka had warned. “They have horns and they attack.”

We drove on on, and then on again, until eventually the trees on either side of the road appeared taller, and then taller, and taller still. We finally arrived at the Redwood National Park and found ourselves in the Lady Bird Johnson Grove Loop Trail.

There were no other cars in the car park, which suited us. If you are going to look at something awesome it is better to have peace around you to fully absorb the experience.

We got out of the car, an act of bravery itself after we’d read the information sign leading in to the redwood trail: “Bears and mountain lions inhabit the area.” Mountain lions! We had just come to terms with killer bears and murderous elks.

“If you encounter a bear or mountain lion remain calm, give the animal a chance to leave the area,” the sign warned. “Be aware of its location and slowly back away. Do not run. Stay together and pick up small children.”

We had come so far to see these redwoods, and we were determined not to be frightened off by bears, elks or mountain lions fond of eating small children.

We walked into the towering forest clutching each other, our eyes searching the thick woods for the slightest sign of movement.

Well, it was just marvellous. Cold, soggy and dripping, but it was beautiful to the point of reverential.

We craned our necks and looked up to trees of stupendous heights. We stood at their wide trunks with outstretched arms that could not even reach part of the way around their massive girth. Despite such a dense forest canopy, seedlings grew on the floor. Thin straws of fragmented sunlight were enough to make the forest floor a carpet of verdant foliage.

These coastal redwoods live longer than almost any other plant on the planet, and we were looking at redwoods aged between 600 and 800 years. The tallest of the trees ascend to more than a hundred metres, so tall that they dwarf everything. Most of their height is gained in their first 100 years of growth. With enough sun a redwood can grow more than 10 metres in its first 20 years.

We were alone in the impenetrable forest and we stuck vigilantly to the track. The colossal trees made us feel small and insignificant. Get lost in here and no search helicopter would ever find you through the solid cover.

We stopped by hollowed trees with openings the size of double doors, terrified to walk inside for fear they might be the homes of large man-eating critters. Our imaginations were running overtime and we were seeing hungry bears lurking behind every large tree, angry lions laying in wait in the thick fern growth, aggravated elks brandishing their deadly horns at every turn.

It was simultaneously thrilling and frightening.

These beautiful trees and much of the forest in the north of California had all but vanished to logging in the near past. In 1968 when the authorities realised the importance of the forest, they established the Redwood National Park. In 1969, Presidents Nixon and Johnson joined Reagan, then Governor of California, in dedicating this 300-acre redwood grove to Lady Bird Johnson and her campaign to beautify America.

We were glad they did. We completed our walk in the woods feeling as though we had experienced something almost religious — and we hadn’t even had to wrestle a mountain lion.