Artist Residency- Redwood National and State Parks, November 2024
On the first Saturday of November 2024, I drove up to Redwood National and State Parks, approximately an hour north from where I live. Carey, a ranger for the Park Service, met me at the Southern Operations Center (SOC) in Orick to check me into park housing. She led in her car on Highway 101 to the turnoff at the Newton B. Drury Scenic Parkway exit. Then a quick left onto a gravel road brought us through some giant redwoods and to a gate blocking the road. A push button pad needed a code punched in for the gate to slowly swing open.
I marveled at the enormous trees while patiently waiting behind Carey’s car. I felt so fortunate to be among them. There is nothing like the coastal redwoods. There used to be so many more. I was going to be living near the few who had survived the ravages of timber harvesting. My new adventure for the next 30 days was just beginning.
Rain had soaked the forest in the days before my arrival which had somehow caused a power outage in sections of the park. This outage included the electricity powering the gate. Carey eventually pushed the gate open manually. We drove through, and I got out and pushed the gate back into the closed position. That little glitch made me feel a bit wary about moving into remote park housing with no electricity.
Down the road, and over a bridge, we turned along what must have been a former logging road through a beautiful second growth forest. We drove for about a mile until we reached the end. If we had turned right, we would have entered Wolf Creek Education Center. We turned left, passing by the Fire Cache. Then we passed over another small bridge until we reached two houses surrounded by forest. The one at the end of the road would be mine for the month.
I wasn’t really seeking or needing solitude, but was certain to have it in that very remote spot. With the presidential election only a few days away, I had mixed feelings about being so alone at that time. I was already fearful of the outcome. But I also knew how to live alone, so I knew I could adjust to the seclusion. I was concerned about feeling isolated there. But I also knew I had the option of driving an hour back home to Arcata any time I wanted.
Fortunately, the power was on in the house which was about four times bigger than my house in Arcata. There were two bedrooms and two bathrooms. I got the whole place to myself. I assumed this meant that the house would also serve as my studio space.
After signing some paperwork, Carey left. And there I was. I unloaded my car, unpacked my things, and just hung out for a while. I wandered over to check out Wolf Creek Education Center. I hadn’t been there for many years. I was there a couple of times to teach art projects for children attending camp. It was the same place I had remembered.
As the day moved toward evening, I decided to drive out to the highway and back to Orick to buy a few things at the grocery store. When I got to the gate, I couldn’t get it to budge. Suddenly I felt trapped. I couldn’t get out! Maybe it was a metaphor for my anxiety about the election. Impending doom! I couldn’t call Carey because there was no cell service among the trees. I had to drive back to the house where there was Wi-Fi. I couldn’t reach her by phone, but I could text her. She texted back that she would send someone. I drove back to wait by the gate, but felt impatient since I had no idea when anyone would show up. It seemed like it was getting dark quickly. I turned around and started driving back to the house. A car was driving toward me on the forest road. The driver stopped, and I told him about the gate. He knew how to get it open. I followed him back, and after he opened it, we both drove out. I made it to the store and back, and spent the evening trying to make myself feel at home.
I did not sleep well. I had bought a new pillow which was too fat and kept hurting my neck. Then the power went out in the middle of the night which makes it really dark, and turns the heat off. In the morning I couldn’t make breakfast or tea because all the appliances were electric. I was heading back into Arcata that day anyway because I had an art presentation at the museum in Eureka later in the afternoon. I made a list of things I needed to pick up, then headed south. It was a beautiful morning and the road to the gate was filled with rays of light peeking through the trees. I drove back to town, and then to Eureka to the Morris Graves Museum and shared my artist residency experience in Ireland . After cleaning up from a successful presentation, I went home to Arcata that night to sleep in my own bed.
The light didn’t shine through the trees like it did the day before when I returned to the park in the morning. The sky was an ominous gray. Then I remembered it was exactly four years ago on that day when I drove up the Redwood National Park during the height of the pandemic to escape among the trees. It was the day before the 2020 election. Here I was again. By midday, I began to get the sinking feeling that the election was not going to go the way I had hoped, even though the media had said it was “too close to call.”
The power was back on. I had been told by the park service that I needed to come up with a slide show for a presentation the following week. The remote for the TV monitor in the house wasn’t working. I wanted to use the external screen to test my slide show. After trying new batteries, I realized the remote was broken. I decided to drive up to Crescent City to buy a new remote at big box store there.
It was disturbing passing all the Trump signs along the way. I made it back home just before dark, ate dinner, and tried the new remote. It did not work either. Disappointed, I gave up and, even though I could not turn up the sound, I figured out how to get the monitor to turn on using some electrical tape I had brought with me, and ended up watching old DVD’s that were left behind by previous residents on a black and white screen.
In the morning, I walked out the front door of the house to face my daily view of a messy forest restoration project. I knew it would eventually be a healthier forest, but at that time it was just plain ugly and very uninspiring. I walked up the hill beside it, trying to embrace what it was and what it would become. But I kept seeing the giant stumps whose history and presence could not be hidden by the skinny, young trees springing up around them. The greed that cut them down, and the disregard for their uniqueness and majesty was depressing to take in.
I spent the rest of the day photographing lovelier things such as elk, mushrooms, trees and trails, giant maple leaves, and close-ups of bark and lichen all around Prairie Creek.
I began to realize that being hopeful about the election was being naïve. Kamala Harris had been an excellent candidate, but it had always been an uphill struggle because of the way she was forced to jump into the race too late. My mood began to sink.
I thought I wouldn’t know election results until the morning. But just as I was crawling under the covers, I got a notification on my phone that Trump had won North Carolina. I had been told I wouldn’t be getting any cell service. I knew then, it was over, and spent the rest of the night lying in the dark, saddened that once again a woman would not be elected president, and that the horrible monster of a man had won again, and would be returning to wreak havoc on democracy in this country and around the world.
One thing was certain, I was not ready for acceptance. I was scheduled to go on an all-day tour of the park that day with a park ranger, joined by Janine, the other artist-in-residence. But by dawn, I knew I couldn’t handle driving around with two other people I didn’t know, and appreciate the wonders of nature all around us, and not be able to talk about how I felt about the horror of what had just happened. I was feeling physically sick. I emailed and texted, and canceled.
I tried going for a walk down the mile-long road through the trees that took me back toward the gate. I thought that surrounding myself with nature would soothe the soul. It did not. I was heartbroken for all who had dared to hope. I was ashamed of and angry at all who knowingly voted for a man who had been held liable for sexual assault in our justice system. I felt embarrassed to be an American.
I finally drove over to the Prairie Creek Visitor Center just to be near people, and to see if I could maybe get cell service so I could use my phone. I hadn’t talked to anyone, and I felt extremely isolated and alone, far from other humans. I knew this wasn’t good for my mental health. I parked in the sunshine. But my head and heart remained in darkness.
I knew I couldn’t talk to any park employees about the election. They were all federal employees and were at work. But I stepped inside just long enough to ask how to call out on my phone. They told me how to get Wi-Fi if I stayed close to or inside the building. I went outside and called my brother, and basically fell apart on the phone as soon as I heard his voice. It was definitely not healthy for me to have gone through that much despair alone.
I spent the afternoon painting my first sketches in my sketchbooks from the back of my van with the side door open. The sun helped dry the paint quickly. But I wasn’t feeling any better. I finally packed up my things, and drove back to town to the comfort of home.
I returned to the park by the next afternoon after having some phone and face to face conversations with family and friends. The election was a hard subject for everyone to talk about. I painted in my sketchbooks once I returned to the house in the forest.
I was somehow more functional as a human being by the next day and headed out to see more of the park. After checking in with the friendly crew behind the counter at Prairie Creek Visitor Center, (they were glad to see I was in better shape than the last time they had seen me,) I drove north to the Klamath Overlook from the south side of the river. There is a one-way loop drive which arrives at high cliffs above the ocean with a view looking southward along the rocky coast. I remember I had gone there four years before, that day before the election when the end results had been much better. There was a beautiful blue sky, and a serene green ocean. But there was also a man there who only nodded toward me as I pulled into the parking area. His was the only other car. I considered setting myself up to paint by sitting atop the steep cliffs, but decided not to since the man was the only other person around, and it was a very remote place, and no one knew where I was. Women, sadly, have to take note of all these factors when alone in the wilderness. And let’s face it, a rapist had just been elected to run the country. My gut told me not to stay, so I left.
I drove across the Klamath River and up to the Yurok Coastal Loop Trail next to Wilson Creek Beach. As I sat and ate some snacks in my car, I noticed two Aleutian Geese eating grass by the picnic benches. Seeing them gave me hope that Redwood Parks Conservancy might finally carry my children’s book about these geese in their visitor centers.
The trail was an easy hike about a mile long. I passed a family walking out as I started in. I took this as a good omen. For the first half, the ocean was in view. The second half was thick with coastal plants, and spruce and fir trees, but no redwoods. I never saw another hiker. I drove back to the house wishing I didn’t always have to think about my surroundings regarding predatory men. I’m less concerned about wild animals while out in nature.
On Saturday morning, it was my day for self-care. I always give myself this on or around my birthday. I stopped by Stone Lagoon in the morning on my way into town. I was feeling drawn to the more open space views like the lagoons. The forest is so thick and layered and deprived of light. I wasn’t sure how I was going to create a successful painting in that environment.
In Arcata, I had my yearly birthday massage and hair trim. Then, that night, I was taken to dinner by friends Amy and Tom. It was nice to be out and about in Arcata, especially at night, be with good friends, and see people around town. I did not miss my house in the forest. Even my little house, though remote, has more sounds of life and people nearby than the quiet forest where I would be living for three more weeks.
Driving back to the park in the morning, I passed through Orick and saw the elk bull and his herd hanging out by the road, munching grass around the edges of an abandoned motel. It has always amazed me how these larger-than-they-look wild animals seem completely unconcerned about living among humans. They appear to have no fear. Wouldn’t that be nice.
It was important that I get back to the house to pick up art supplies. I was scheduled to teach a Watercolor Landscape Collage workshop at Prairie Creek Redwoods Visitor Center from 10- 4.
Arriving around 9:30, I was greeted by the friendly staff at the visitor center and set up in the back corner of the cozy, wooden building. As visitors wandered through, I asked if they would like to do an art project. In no time at all, people of all ages were sitting down and painting and assembling landscapes of all colors and styles. It was a full day and a lot of fun. I hope I get to do it again in the future.
On Monday, November 11, not only was it a national holiday. It was my birthday! I woke up and worked in my sketchbook for a couple of hours. Then I drove into Arcata and met my friend Linda for a tasty lunch. I did a few more errands in town, then drove up to Trinidad around 4. I was planning to meet another friend for dinner in Trinidad at 5. I wanted to catch the sun setting, and take the short walk out to the vista point above Trinidad State Beach. To me, Trinidad seems like the beginning of the park from the south because of the rocky coast and forested bluffs. As I walked back to my car, a man had just walked up to enter the narrow trail I was just leaving. I said hello to him. He nodded back and disappeared into the overgrown trail. Once again, I was glad I didn’t run into him on the trail, or out by the cliff where I was taking in the golden sunset. I left and drove through the forested Stagecoach Road which comes out at Larrupin, and had a delicious dinner with my friend Margo. After dinner, I decided I would drive back to Arcata and spend the night there instead of driving in the darkness to my quiet and lonely house in the dark woods.
Before returning to the house in the park in the morning, I stopped by SOC to pick up the first half of the payment for the residency. It was good to finally have the check in hand since I could not pay any of my bills until then. Knowing I would be driving to Crescent City the next day for a presentation, I decided to deposit it at the branch of my credit union up there.
I learned from Janine that she was preparing an extensive presentation for the Wednesday night reception. I was told a week before that this event would only be a handful of people, and that I should just bring my children’s book and a few cards to share, and speak for a couple of minutes. I spent the morning piecing together a power point, borrowed largely from the one I had made for my Ireland residency. I wanted my presentation to look comparable to the other artist, so I came up with a 10-minute slide show.
That afternoon, I wanted to check out the Lost Man Creek Trail. I had driven on the road to the trailhead and walked a short way a few days before. But when I entered the trail that day, I thought about how no one knew where I was, so I turned around after only walking in about 50 yards.
This day, I decided fear would not stop me from doing the things I needed and wanted to do. I attempted to turn off the highway to Lost Man Creek Road, but found it blocked off and closed for the winter. This made me wonder why the park service picked November for artists to explore the park when they close off parts of it just as we arrive. I drove further south to Lady Bird Johnson Grove. My distant memory of hiking that trail was that it had some open space in it, was well traveled and frequently visited, and was a short loop. When I got there, Lady Bird Johnson Grove was not what I remembered. Although there were many old growth trees, the undergrowth had grown much denser. I could not find the vistas I thought were there. I only passed two couples while walking, but felt safe, and frankly, defiant, about hiking alone. It was beautiful, but made me feel less inclined to try to paint an old growth forest as the piece I would give to the park.
After putting some finishing touches on my slide show the next morning, and loading the car with a small folding table, and my cards and books, I headed for Crescent City and the bank. I found the credit union and, once the check was deposited, was able to schedule payment of my credit card which I had been living off of for the past month in a half. Accepting this residency in the middle of Autumn meant it was nearly impossible to find work in the months surrounding it. I then set out for Jedediah Smith State Park. I drove up the magical highway at the start of 199, heading toward the Smith River. It was lightly raining which made the colors of the yellow maple leaves glisten and shine. With the “Music of the Redwoods” soundtrack by Jon Parmentier playing in my CD player, I turned into the Jedediah Smith campground, a place I have visited many times.
Campers need to book a campsite six months ahead, and they run out of camp sites quickly. However, the Day Use beach by the river is open to the public throughout the camping season. It is a lovely stretch of river, and has been a source for previous paintings. It looked less inviting with murky water from rain and runoff. The gray sky changed the color of everything.
I drove halfway back toward Crescent City, stopping at Walker Road. I remembered hiking on one of the trails with a friend several years before. There are many giant trees, and plenty of yellow maples leaves lighting up the understory. I continued driving on the narrow road to the river. I got out to photograph the river. After seeing no one along the way, I was surprised to turn around and see a young man by a car. He was smoking something and had paraphernalia on the car’s roof which he kept handling. Here was another situation where my instincts told me not to stay. I got back in my car and headed back so to get to the reception in Crescent City early, and set up my table of books and cards.
The reception was a “meet and greet” for both resident artists. About 25 people attended the reception held in the Crescent City Cultural Center main room. I was introduced to many people, and had to pose for many photos. I am never comfortable in photo shoots, but it was a requirement of the residency to be there, and attendees were very gracious and friendly. Patrick Taylor with the National Park Service spoke about the importance of artists in the development of legislation for the first national parks. He said it was the photographers and painters who brought back images of the wilderness that convinced legislators to vote for establishing the National Park Service. Janine and I did our slide show presentations. When it was over, many of us had to drive back to our houses in the park in darkness and pouring rain. The drive through the forest between Crescent City and Orick along 101 and through Last Chance Grade was a very scary trip home.
The next day began gray and rainy. There was little color or contrast. I drove to Elk Prairie at Davison Road and painted from my car in my horizontal sketchbook. The rain continued, but I stayed dry in my van. As I worked, I realized it was time to start the larger piece for the park service. I still wasn’t sure what the image would be, but realized that, in order to receive the second half of the payment, the painting had to be finished and delivered before a check would be processed. Since we were about halfway through the month, I had better start on it soon, and use a frame I already had since local framers take months to get anything framed. By late afternoon, I decided to drive to Arcata that night and grab some frames from my studio.
As I headed out of the park and passed the lagoons and beaches, it was like a breath of fresh air to see the sun peeking through the clouds, and a relief to see more sky and distant horizons. The days in the forest seemed short because the sky was blocked by the tall trees. I have always enjoyed showing perspective in my paintings. And I needed to find the light.
As I was walking out the door of my house the next morning, I looked over at a large frame on my wall with a painting in it. I realized that frame would work for the size and shape for my final piece, and I grabbed the painting off of the wall and brought it back with me to the park. It was a sunny day. I painted in sketchbooks again from my car at Prairie Creek because it is one of the few open spaces in the park. But I was uncertain about painting that scene as the final piece.
In the morning, I drove up to the Klamath Overlook on the north side of the river. I had been there many times over the years and attempted making paintings of the mouth of the river from above before. I never liked any of those paintings, even though I always enjoyed that view. The sky was gray again. I looked for whales, but saw none. I stopped in at the Yurok Visitor Center in the town of Klamath and bought a few art cards by Native artists. I kept thinking about putting a condor into a landscape, but wasn’t sure which landscape would be best, and worried that using the condor might be considered cultural appropriation.
I drove back to Stone Lagoon and took many more pictures. But the light was so dull. The color was muted and uninspiring. I saw a couple of avid birders I knew who were there with a local Audubon group. It was nice to run into people I knew, and we chatted for a bit. I went back to the house and drew some of the birds I had seen at the lagoon in my sketchbook. I felt like I was on the verge of something. I tore the paper to fit the frame and drew, in pencil, the land forms of Stone Lagoon. It was a start.
After a mostly sleepless night, going back and forth in my mind about whether to include a condor in the painting, I finally decided to go for it. Once it was drawn in, I realized it added so much more meaning to the whole piece. The composition was more complete, and the symbolism of the condor gave it a hopeful narrative. Color and light were now my biggest challenges. I was tired of all the grays I was seeing when I looked at my photos.
I drove to the Prairie Creek Visitor Center to wait for my first visitors, Patty and John from Blue Lake, to arrive. I was disappointed they would be coming to visit on a rainy day. But while I waited, I was able to get some help from the park employees and volunteers behind the counter. I told them I wanted to paint Stone Lagoon, but was having a hard time with the colors. They started looking up photos on Instagram for me, and found some dynamic images. It was great to have some interaction with people, and their input and attention helped me out of my stuck, gray place. They also mentioned that I should ask about the photo archives the park has. I liked the idea of looking through National Park archives and getting an inside view of the park’s history.
Patty and John arrived around 2:30, and because of the rain, we ended up just going back to the house in the woods and drinking tea and visiting. It was not a good day for hiking. I enjoyed having someone in the house to talk to. Our conversations covered up the quiet. We all ended up driving back to town that night. I needed to get my masking fluid for the condor, and some medication I had left behind from my last trip home. As I drove south, I stopped another time at the north end of Stone Lagoon just as the sun was setting from under the gray cloud cover. I finally saw the color I needed!
I drove back up to the park with the masking fluid I needed so I could paint the sky around the condor. Arriving back at the forest house, I got right to work filling in the condor with the liquid latex solution. It would need time to dry, but that was fine because another friend, Andrea, was meeting up with me at the Prairie Creek Visitor Center. We had an estimated time to meet because cell service and even texting didn’t always work. When I got there, she had arrived 20 minutes earlier. Once again, we didn’t hike because of rain. We had a good visit at the house, and she left before it got dark.
I finally forced myself to begin painting. Part of my hesitation had to do with the fact that this painting was sort of a commission. Even though I could pick the subject, I felt like I had to please others. I usually paint what pleases me, and if others like it, that’s great. But this image was going to be used to represent the park and might be used on posters, or cards, or even hats and mugs. I was not used to that kind of pressure.
Once I started painting, I didn’t stop for hours. I was feeling good about how it was going. The painting had the glow I wanted it to have, as well as the muted tones of the season. I finally put the brushes down and went to bed at midnight.
I woke up and began painting again at 7:30, finishing 3 hours later. I liked this painting, the color and composition, and the meaning it had beyond just landscape. The restoration of the condor is of major importance to the Yurok people, and for all who work toward repairing the mistakes of our past and protecting the earth. The massive bird is a symbol of hope for those who know the story of the condors return.
I was originally scheduled to have a tour the next day of Jedediah Smith State Park, but it was canceled because a major storm was heading toward the Northern California coast. Terms like “bomb cyclone” and “atmospheric river” were being used. Threats of major flooding and fallen trees due to high winds made employees in the park spread caution.
I took the finished painting to the Kuchel Visitor Center to be handed over to the park service for photographing. Ranger Carey came up with the title. “Homecoming.” It was a perfect way to describe the condor’s presence in the image. In a way, the residency at the park was a homecoming for me too. When I returned from Ireland a few months before from an artist residency there, I had a hard time adjusting to being back in the states after visiting my ancestor’s homeland. Immersing myself in the ecosystem of the redwood coast was a reminder for me of why I live where I do.
I looked at the enormous waves crashing on the beach outside the visitor center. The storm was coming. I didn’t want to be stuck at the forest house with high winds, no power, and flooding creeks. I decided to drive back to Arcata, thankful I had accomplished a successful painting for donation to the park. This also meant I had completed my obligations for the residency.
Once I was back in Arcata, I got a call from Janine saying that everyone was leaving the park because of high winds and power outages. I told her she could come stay with me. After she arrived, we cooked dinner at my house. I lit candles in case the power went out. It did pause for about a minute or two, but then came back on for the rest of the night.
We survived the wind storm throughout the night. In the morning, we had breakfast, then decided to check out a display of local Native American art in Eureka. Janine was thinking the focus of her art piece might be partially based on local native baskets. After touring the amazing display of baskets, regalia, and contemporary native art at the Clarke Museum, and picking up some art supplies for framing, Janine decided to return to the park. She had heard from her roommates that the power was back on at their house. We returned to my house, and she packed up her things and headed back. It was still raining heavily, and creeks were reportedly flooding, so I stayed home.
I spent the next day at my studio painting in my sketchbooks while it rained all over the region. Watching the news and realizing the horror of Trump returning to the oval office, the weather seemed to fit the mood. But I was glad I was not locked into the drenched and isolated forest, lost in dark thoughts. I was relieved to have completed a painting I felt good about. I could tell by the response of others that it worked for them too. It reflected good things that are happening in the world.
I drove back to the park on Friday, stopping first at the Kuchel Visitor Center to pick up the painting, and take it back to the house so I could put it in the frame using the supplies I had purchased. After putting it all together, I drove the finished, framed piece up to Crescent City and delivered it to an empty office where everyone seemed to have already left for the holiday week. I was disappointed I couldn’t hand it over to someone in person, but at least I knew my check would begin to be processed. I drove back to my forest home before dark.
As I drove out of the forest that Saturday morning and passed through the locked gate, I found myself in a stare down with four Roosevelt Elk who were blocking my exit to the road leading to the freeway onramp. I was headed to a basketmaking workshop I was conducting at the Kuchel Visitor Center, and was going to be late if they didn’t move.
It is always amazing to see the Roosevelt Elk so close up, but they are also very unpredictable. They have been known to charge at cars when drivers try to carefully go around them when they don’t move out of the way. I stepped out of my car and tried speaking to them. I guess they don’t understand English, or maybe just didn’t care about what I had to say. No one budged, and I got some defiant looks from them. I got back in my car and slowly inched forward, pausing for a minute to encourage them to move. A couple of them finally did move, but there was one stubborn bull. Finally, as I inched closer, he began to step to the side of the road. I pulled out and headed for the workshop. Just like other visitors to the park, it was exciting, but a little treacherous, to have such a close encounter with these wild animals.
I set up the basketmaking workshop in the movie-viewing room at Kuchel Visitor Center, which had been converted by the staff into a wonderful space for an activity. The window shades were open, and long tables were set up with chairs arranged around them. The room had good light and great views. I only had about a dozen people join me throughout the day, but those who attended definitely seemed to enjoy it. And I enjoyed teaching again. It was fun conversing with visitors from around the world. The weather of the past week had probably slowed down many travelers who were heading out for the Thanksgiving week. I have realized over the years that I really like stopping at visitor centers when I travel. I like how they are based on educating visitors about the place where they are at that moment. It is a wonderful way to travel. After the workshop ended, I drove home to Arcata.
I ended up spending the whole next day in Arcata painting in my sketchbook at my studio while it rained outside. These sketches will probably become future, larger paintings.
Driving in the rain the next morning, I returned to the park, arriving at SOC to check out the archival photos of the development of Redwood National Park, including the extension in 1978. The facility maintains the protection of their photos, objects of importance, and historical data in the upstairs of the building. I spent the entire afternoon looking through photo archives, and got to see some of the Native American hats and baskets stored there. I found startling images of clear cuts, and a weak and trickling Klamath River in files full of old black and white photos. The river is so much healthier now. I even found photos of my friends Wesley Chesbro (a former State Senator) and his wife Cindy at events regarding the park.
When I woke up on Tuesday, the sun was finally back in the sky. I worked on cutting down the large sheets of foam core I had inherited from the art supply store for later paintings. They had been slightly damaged during shipping so I got them for free. I was taking advantage of the large work space I had in the house. Then I went to Prairie Creek Visitor Center and learned that Howland Hill Road had reopened, and I could go see the ancient trees up there. I drove up to Crescent City and tried to make some connections with the Chamber of Commerce and the Director of Redwood Parks Conservancy. Then I rendezvoused with Pamela who had just driven down from Portland. We had a late lunch at a cool brewery by the waterfront. I was able to schedule a meeting after lunch with the conservancy director who promised to make sure my book went through the process of being considered for sale at the park’s visitor centers. By then it was almost 4 o’clock. Pamela and I drove south to Prairie Creek, where Margo met up with us. We all caravanned back to the house in the forest and settled in for the evening with wine, tamales, salad, and good company.
After a lazy morning of breakfast and conversation, we made our way to the Prairie Creek Visitor Center again and asked about trails to hike. The sun was shining and the sky was blue. We chose the Karl Knapp Trail adjacent to Newton B. Drury Parkway which was closed to car traffic. It is always beautiful to drive, but I’ve never walked on the trails beside it. It was gorgeous and an easy, level hike. The trees are enormous, the colors rich. There was a chill in the air, but if we kept walking, we didn’t get cold. It was so wonderful to be hiking with friends and feel safe.
After our 5-mile hike, Margo drove home to Blue Lake, and Pamela and I drove into Arcata to pick up some cookware at my house, then to the Co-op to get a few more items for cooking our vegetarian Thanksgiving dinner the next day. We drove back to the forest house in the dark.
When I got up in the morning and started preparing my tofu turkey, I realized I forgot to buy nutritional yeast for the glaze. It was a very important ingredient. We decided we would go to the store in Trinidad, and then walk around Trinidad Head for our hike of the day. Thanksgiving Day was a glorious day. November light when it is sunny is very dramatic. The sky was clear blue. The hike around Trinidad Head was harder than I remembered, but it was nice to be in Trinidad and look down at all the beaches, and remember all the times Pamela and I went there during our college years. The water was especially calm. There were hardly any waves, which was in extreme contrast to the two previous weeks.
We returned home and began cooking and baking all the dishes we enjoy during the harvest season. Dinner was ready by exactly 5 o’clock. I was so grateful to have good food and the good company of my old friend.
We decided to go north for our last day of hiking and finally check out the giants along Howland Hill Road in Jedediah Smith State Park. We entered from the south after driving down the hill into Crescent City, and made our way through massive trees to the Grove of the Titans. The trail was completed two years ago in response to visitors hiking in to find these unique trees, and to protect the forest floor from damage by those hikers. Much of the trail is now an elevated boardwalk made of grated metal panels. Parking was challenging and not very close to the trailhead. There were many hikers. It was cold and dark in the forest, but that actually made it feel more mysterious and magical. The trail had many ups and downs, and was not short, but it was worth every step. There is no way a photo can capture the immense height and width of the trees. I am so glad we finally got to see this newest trail in the park before leaving my residency. It had been a goal since the day I had arrived to see the Titans.
We also stopped and walked around Stout Grove, a more familiar and similarly majestic spot. Then we drove south on 101 past a golden sunset to the last night in the house in the forest.
Pamela was on the road by 8 am. I packed up my van with everything I had brought, and cleaned up the house. I bid farewell to my forest house and headed to the Kuchel Visitor Center for Janine’s public presentation of her work in the park. It was excellent! She had made connections with a wide variety of people over the course of the month, including seeing and photographing the condors up close and personal, meeting and photographing native women making baskets and regalia, and finding the man who photographed the forests from above and within many years ago. She documented the current forest and watershed projects of Redwood Rising, and concluded with the word “Healing”, a very positive and inspiring way to sum up her experience.
I turned in my keys, said goodbye to Janine and other park personnel, and headed south on 101 for my final trip home. I stopped at Stone Lagoon, and found the Yurok Visitor Center there open. There were many displays about the condor, and I was glad I had decided to use the bird’s image in my painting as a symbol of restoration, renewal, and hope.
And finally, I got to use my kayak, which I had hauled around for two weeks on the roof of my van, on a beautiful, sunny day to float on Stone Lagoon. All by myself and safely, I paddled around for about an hour. It was a perfect farewell to my time in the park.
Here’s to seeking perspective, getting through the darkness, and finding the light!
Maureen McGarry 