Henry Cowell Redwoods State Park, CA
I don’t know how many times I have sat down to write about Henry Cowell State Park. It has become one of my special places and a must-visit for every guest we have. After every trip, I vow to complete this entry and every time it is left abandoned as I struggle to capture the spirit as well as include our latest adventure in this corner of the world.
I was blessed to discover this awesome park. Last Spring Highway 1 to Big Sur washed out and was closed for a couple months. At the time I was really disappointed, but looking for other hiking opportunities, I ordered a Santa Cruz Mountain Trail Book and learned of the these redwood covered mountains. Just outside of Santa Cruz, this park and the town of Felton offer ample opportunities to explore my beloved trees. The easiest and most spectacular hike is the Redwood Grove Trail, an .8 mile hike through an old Redwood Grove boasting 1400-1800 year old trees. Every time I enter this grove a calmness settles in me. The crowns of the glorious trees tower above. The duff covered path is soft beneath my feet. Large clovers that taste like granny smith apples provide an emerald carpet around the trees. Some of the trees display the scars of past fires reminding me of their strength and perseverance. I pet the now familiar creatures saying hello as the now appear to me as old friends. The tallest tree in the grove stands soars as high as the Statue of Liberty. By slowly walking around the base, alternating by looking up to the top and examining its enormous width, I try to comprehend its size. Every time I do this I am no less amazed than my first visit.
My absolute favorite tree is the Freemont tree and I always pack a flashlight just for this tree (although I recently discovered you can check out flashlights from the visitor center). A small opening, like that of an elfin door in a fairy tale, allows one to crawl inside the giant and study its girth from the inside out. Once inside even the tallest man can stand comfortably with several of his friends. Burnt bark explains how the tree was once hollowed by a fire. A shelf had been carved into the bark at some distant time perhaps when Captain Freemont himself camped here. It is impossible to venture inside this redwood and not hear childhood whispering at my soul. Reminding me of those days when living in a tree in a magical forest would be a dream come true.
This short walk always grounds me and awakens my appreciation for life on this earth. Yet I love continuing further into this park. It’s always fun to walk across a hundred year old rail bridge. Other trails wander to the Cathedral Redwoods Old Grove then to a wonderful swimming hole which is the perfect spot for a picnic with an old friend. A hike up the mountain to the observation deck reveals views all the way to Monterey. Next door to the park, Roaring Camp Railroad ventures over old trestles, up the mountain and through the woods on an original logging train. At the top in another old grove, the ancient tour guides gives a conservation speech so impassioned that I have to resist from enveloping him in a giant bear hug. For a different perspective, we spent one afternoon zip-lining our way through a Redwood Canopy Tour at Mount Hernon. Here I had my only opportunity to be in the trees themselves, marveling in their size by looking down instead of up.
There are so many ways to enjoy this area, truly something for everyone. I love this area. And I know I am not the only one who feels this way. One day driving just outside the park, I passed a man who had set up his full drum set on the side of the road was playing his soul out. And although it’s not how I would celebrate the beauty of Henry Cowell, I respected the passion as I felt it myself.
- Park Website: https://www.parks.ca.gov/?page_id=546
- Redwood Canopy Tours: http://mounthermonadventures.com/adventures/
- Roaring Camp Railroads: http://www.roaringcamp.com/
The Rocky Ridge trail is a brutal 1700 foot climb in 2 miles. With each step, I questioned why I was doing this. My calves began to ache earlier than expected and my lungs begged for a break. The sun beat down; it was much hotter than the previous times I’ve climbed this mountain. Luckily incredible views of the Pacific Coast provided great excuses to stop, catch my breath, and take in the scenery. Sapphire waves lapped at marine cliffs. Barking sea lions punctuated the fresh air.
A passerby informed me she spotted a baby rattlesnake further up the trail. Again I questioned my decision but kept going. I told myself to just put one foot in front of the other. I climbed above the hawks looking down at a cloud clinging to a smaller mountain. At 1400 feet above sea level, a bench rewards the tired climber with a needed break. I sat for ten minutes letting the blood drain from my head. I wondered if I should call it quits as I looked up at the last few hundred feet. I decided to power through and in another ten minutes I had reached the summit. To the east, the Santa Lucia Mountains bordered Carmel Valley. To the northwest, the coastlines of Carmel Highlands and Point Lobos. To the south the distant trailhead was barely visible along the now tiny Highway 1. I took a deep breath and felt the rush of endorphins.
A couple miles in we reached the back country campground. Another mile or so, we discovered an old car down in a narrow ravine. From photos, my husband later identified it as a 1948 Ford. The car was upright, but the front and top were smashed in from flipping over. The rubber from the back tire had blown over the rear wheel. The interior was gone and plants grew in the car and the engine. Bree and I looked up and around wondering where the road had once been and how and when this car had ended up here. What happened to the passengers? How long had this car lay here?
The trail continued through an overgrown and more densely wooded section. Before long we started climbing down. The few gaps in the trees revealed amazing views of the Santa Cruz mountains as well as the depth of the substantial canyon we were descending into. I tried to enjoy the hike down, but with every step I couldn’t help but wonder how miserable the long climb up would be.
After finishing our wonderful hike, we toured through the car camping section. It was early evening on a Friday. Families were setting up tents in the lovely redwood dotted campsites. The sounds of children playing echoed from the creek below. Unfortunately, this campground only has a few more months before is closes in November and the whole park closes in July 2012. What will happen to it? No more campgrounds packed with families enjoying quality time away from the TV and computer. Is it even legal to close these parks that were bequeathed to the public? Is it even possible to absolutely close them? Is there a way to protect the park from people coming in and trashing this sacred spot? Or will the trails simply grow over and the beauty of this place be forgotten? And this is just one natural treasure on a list of seventy. It makes me so sad to think that these places, our state parks, may simply be lost.
If I could draw, I would draw a cartoon picture of myself throwing a lasso around the arms of a clock and using every ounce of my strength to slow down this year. I can’t draw nor do I have the power to change the pace of time. Yet it seems time has the power to fly by more quickly than it ever has in my life. We have not even lived in Monterey a year, but it seems to have gone by in a flash. This week my husband received his official orders that we will move to Maryland in January. I recognize that is still half a year away, but my list of things I want to see and do in this area seems to be growing instead of shrinking.
Since my husband had explored Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park with a friend, I decided this was a good opportunity to check it out. Part of the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH also Highway 1) washed out in early spring. Between that and a rainy winter, it had been months since we ventured down to the glorious place. Still I wonder if I could ever drive down to Big Sur and not be dazzled. It is one of, if not the most gorgeous place I have ever been. The road winds between mountains and rocky coastal headlands. At times, the highway is perched precariously above high cliffs that allow you to drive at the same height condors and hawks fly. The Pacific water below looks deceptively warm with shades of indigo, turquoise and deep blue. And then there is the air. As my friend Adam claimed on an earlier excursion to the area, “The air even tastes good here.” I opened the sunroof and turned up the Vampire Weekend CD and after forty-five minutes of breath-taking views I pulled into the park.
The most trafficked trail at this park travels to Pfeiffer Falls. The trail begins with a beautiful redwood grove flanking the sides of a brook. The quickest route to Pfeiffer Falls has been closed for a couple years due to a wild fire, but the Valley View trail also provides easy access. I crossed a small footbridge in front of the falls. Two streams of water flowed down one cliff then met on a narrow ledge before continuing down to the creek below. I then continued the hike on the Valley View Trail and looked down to the Big Sur River and the narrow valley below. The hike took about an hour, but I was hungry for more. My Big Sur Trail book described a 3 mile trail, Buzzards Roost that climbs the western mountain that separated Big Sur River from the sea. I began walking along the side of the river through more redwood trees. The trail began to climb up the mountain and I got to better comprehend the height of some of the trees as I glanced down to the river below. I would not describe the climb as strenuous, but the incline was steep enough to keep more hikers at bay as I passed a lot fewer people than on the previous trail. 
At the top of the mountain, I glanced out to the sparkling ocean. It was also a great place to observe the gorgeous mountain bordering the east side of the Big Sur River. Most of the trail was a loop and it was nice to take a new path of longer switchbacks on the way down. It was a little after four o’clock when I finished the hike and I knew I needed to get back soon to start dinner. However, I felt like my fun was just beginning, so on the way home I plotted a return trip the next day.
Limekiln is a small park with only three short trails that meander along the floor of one of the Pacific’s steepest coastal canyons on the West Coast. Lots of tents and campers dotted the sites along the beautiful creek and near the beach. The main trail begins by following the creek before each trails divides to follow a separate branch of that creek. Each trail is less than a mile round trip. All of the trails are lined with redwood groves and filled with sound of rushing and bubbling water. Streaks of sunshine penetrated the tree cover and I breathed in the smell of the forest. I don’t know if I could have been more content. The most impressive trail is the Falls Trail which ends at a 100 foot waterfall. To get there you have to crisscross the creek several times. It was not too difficult, and I was happy to survive the trail without any missteps. Unlike Pfeiffer State Park, there is complete access to the falls. I loved feeling the spray on my face. The cliffs around the falls create a huge opening without tree cover allowing lots of sunshine and warm temperatures. I knew I had found a great swimming hole for warmer days. After finishing the three trails, I sat in the beach for a little bit, munching an orange and enjoying the sea breeze.
As I was reluctant to end my day of exploration, I continued driving about twenty more minutes until I was forced to turn around (due to a landslide, Highway 1 near Gorda was closed). I turned up an O.A R. CD and began driving back home. As the sun shone into the car, I could tell that despite putting on sunscreen that I was a little burned. Yet I could not bring myself to close the sunroof. The sun, the air, the scenery, it was all completely euphoric. Part of me kicked myself for not foregoing the guilt that my husband was at school and the slight anxiousness of hiking alone sooner. However, I simultaneously delighted in the knowledge that I am perfectly happy with solo adventures. And maybe just maybe, there will be enough time to explore it all.
We began the day by waiting in a long line to pick up sandwiches at a local deli. I think the entire peninsula was planning a picnic. Giant subs. Check. Chips. Check. A bottle of Christopher Cameron Red wine. Check. Plastic Cups to hide the wine from the park rangers. Check. We were ready for an afternoon of hiking at one of my favorite spots, Point Lobos State Park.
We began walking through the forest to the northern coastline. The forest gave way to Whaler’s cove whose entrance was bordered by the rocky cliffs of two headlands. We spotted some empty picnic tables and hungrily attacked our sandwiches while simultaneously trying to savor every sip of the delicious wine. Our bellies full, it was time to walk off the meal and really explore the park. We climbed up to the cliff and looked out to Carmel-by-the Sea and Pebble Beach. We continued walking through the Monterey Cypress groves, one of only two places on earth that these trees remain in their native spot. Rock formations dotted the coastline adding to the stunning scenery. The sounds of woodpeckers often punctuated our sentences and Harbor Seals and their pups sunned on the beaches below the cliffs.
As we approached the Southern side, the groves gave way to meadows and the sounds of sea lions grew louder as we turned on to Sea Lion Point Trail. From here we could see the Cypress groves on top of the headlands to the north. To the south and east, the rocky coastline is backdropped by the high hills of the Carmel Highlands. Looking straight out to the water, sea lions played on giant rocks. Huge waves crashed into the rocks spraying water high into the air. We scrambled down the trail which is covered with pebbles and rocks that have become permanently fixed to the sandstone. This is my favorite part of the park. I love watching and listening to the sea lions and the giant crashing waves. I love the cobbled floor and the sea spray that brushes your face if you stand on the edge of the rocks. Every time a part of me feels like a child again.
After we climbed back up from Sea Lion Point, Mike gave our guests the option of heading back to the park or continuing along the southern side of the peninsula. I was delighted when the group chose to keep walking. We followed the southern trail walking along the edge of cliffs and winding along numerous coves. We spied several sea arches and more harbor seals and swimming otters. I took in a deep breath of the fresh air as I admired the clear almost turquoise water. It had been awhile since my single glass of wine at lunch yet I found myself feeling completely intoxicated by the sounds of waves crashing and sea lions barking. Or was it the smells of trees, wildflowers and fresh surf? I have to admit that earlier in the week, I was a little angry at my favorite town for not showing its best face to my friends or to my husband and I on our stay-cation. However, as the sun shone on my shoulders and over the ocean, I felt myself falling in love with Monterey all over again.
A few miles outside San Juan Batista we found a beautiful venue nestled between smalls hills of vines. I know a lot of people prefer not to visit vineyards in January as the vines are sans grapes and being pruned. I personally find it an awesome time to visit as the crowds are usually less. And even with the bare vines, Léal was beautiful. We walked through an enclosed brick patio directly into the tasting room. Huge doors essentially make up the entrance wall. On this gorgeous day, the doors stood open almost creating the illusion that we were outside. Angela, the tasting room manager, warmly welcomed us before doing a double take at seeing my husband back again. “He was really impressed,” I explained with a smile. I handed her my industry card and she excitedly grabbed us glasses while chatting with me about the winery at which I work.
The tasting consisted of all 2007 vintages, and we started with their Chardonnay, simultaneously crisp and creamy. It was very nice, but all four of us were excited that the rest of the wines were red. The Pinot and the newer Threesome were both tasty. My level of impression only grew as we tasted the Franc Five and the Carnavál Meritage. The 2006 Carnavál was another wine I had previously enjoyed; however the 2007 was amazing. Berry notes give way to chocolate and coffee all balanced with a round mouthfeel. This was my kind of wine, and I figured my favorite of the day. Then the 2007 Cabernet was poured. Rachel immediately began to sing its praises. Mike and I had ventured to Napa the weekend before and drank some good Cabs. However, we both agreed that this $32 bottle was better than any Napa Cabernet under $50. Mike even commented that he was not sure we had one better, though I think Rubicon may have it beat. Regardless it was delicious. We purchased several bottles of various wines (at a substantial Industry discount), and Angela opened a bottle of the Cab for us to enjoy on site.
Mike had enthusiastically explained that the beautiful grounds included lots of tables, two bocce ball courts and grand outdoor fireplaces. Mike and Mike checked out a set of bocce balls from Angela, while Rachel and I set up a picnic of cheese, salami, crackers, fruit, and olives. The dogs’ mouths watered at our snacks, while our mouths watered as Mike poured us generous glasses of the wine. We dug into the food all the while discussing this fabulous winery. When the two Mikes began their bocce ball game, Rachel and I basked in the afternoon sun, relaxing and laughing. I love days when my biggest worry is that our puppy, Ries, chewed through his leash wrapped around my chair. And even that was pretty funny.
I always knew I had fallen in love when all I could think is, “ I love you, I love you, I love you.” And I have come to accept that I have fallen in love again…this time with a place. I have come to the conclusion that it is entirely possible to love a geographic location. As I ride on the back of my husband’s Harley from Monterey to Big Sur, I realize the undeniable fact that I am in love with Monterey and the Central Coast. If we weren’t riding along the cliff-lined, windy Pacific Coast Highway, I would throw my arms out and scream it into the salty wind.
I actually envisioned starting this blog when we first moved in late June. I knew I liked our new home and wanted to share this experience with family and friends. In addition, I had been unable to find a teaching position and planned on spending my time writing. However, within a week of being here a tasting room job fell in my lap. I have since blamed my new vocation as to why I have not written a single word (until today). While I have been working more hours than I originally anticipated, this obviously does not account for all the time I could be, but haven’t been writing. I have been feeling less than inspired to put words down and have struggled with this because it is not for lack of subject matter. Today, I realize that my writers block has more to do with the fact that I have not wanted to sit down and write because I am too busy enjoying life. Honestly, I have been neglecting a lot of things and people in my life as I consume myself with my new love affair. I am now ready to move onto the second stage of a new relationship where I talk incessantly about my love. My mother would say I was finally coming up for air. And I would agree except that since simply breathing here often leads to a new rush of endorphins, the air is one of the reasons I love Monterey. Air that smells like fresh oysters until you move a bit inland to breathe in the pine trees. 
The yeasty aroma of a barrel room, perhaps not so pleasant if not for the promise of a future vintage. The hundreds of different bouquets on Monterey wines. The smoke emitted from chimneys when the evening temperatures dip close to fifty. I want to breathe in all the perfume of Monterey and hold my breath. I want to wrap my arms around the stunning coastline, the magnificent trees, the delicious wine, the fresh fish and hold it closely as I cherish every day we have here.
Redwoods and Wine 