Arcata, CA – Day Seven

We left Guerneville around 9:30 and headed north. I was surprised at how cold I felt, even though it was sunny and in the upper 50’s and I was wearing so many layers of clothes that I could hardly bend my arms. But it was still beautiful.

We stopped for lunch at a tiny little place in Fort Bragg called the Sea Pal Cove that I found on the maps app on my phone. It got good reviews, so we decided to try it. We had our doubts while trying to find it, though, because to get there, we had to wind through an industrial area and then it was kind of up under an overpass in a really weird spot. But we went in and found the very nice owner of the place working the register. We ordered the first of what would be many plates of fish and chips on this trip, and so far, these have been the best. It was a great stop.

We drove on north. It was still cold and still beautiful. We stopped at a vista point that promised cliff overlooks and met Roger and Annabelle, who we thought might be siblings or maybe just friends, and Roger’s dog, Murray. We visited with them for probably half an hour while we looked at the cliffs and the rocks below. Annabell said she has lived in northern California for fifteen years and never seen weather like they’ve had this past winter. She said this year broke all the records in almost every way: most rain, most snow, most extreme temperatures, etc. They’ve have mudslides, floods, you name it. She pointed at flowers on the ground and said she’s never seen some of them before, and others only much later in the year. She seemed concerned and puzzled. They took our picture before we left.

Even though I was born and raised in Tulsa, I consider myself a Texan now, so for me to say this, it means something; California is huge. There is almost every possible climate here – mountains, desert, beaches, forests – and it’s all big. To stand at what feels like the top of the world and look down at clouds above the ocean, way the hell down there, makes me feel quite small and humble.

I was not raised in a religious family. My dad is Baptist but not pushy about it at all ( I know, it sounds contradictory), and my mom was agnostic at best. We did not attend church very often, and I never really felt comfortable talking about God or participating in prayer at family gatherings. I always envied my “religious” friends and the comfort they seemed to feel because of their faith, not to mention the built-in support system that  comes with belonging to a church. I always thought it must be nice to feel connected to something in that way, and not being so, I always felt kind of unmoored.

Several years ago, however, I found myself in need of a twelve-step program, the second step of which states, “We came to believe that a power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity.” Other steps mention turning ourselves over to “God as we understood Him,” being ready for “God to remove (our) defects of character,” etc. This was a problem for me, as it is for many people who show up at meetings. Seasoned members of such groups are prepared to help newcomers with this struggle by offering that “God as we understood Him” can take whatever form it needs to for the program to work, as long as we acknowledge that WE are not the higher power and we become willing to surrender ourselves.

I eventually worked that spiritual stuff out and though I don’t go to meetings anymore, I haven’t drunk any alcohol in sixteen years. When I was new to AA, one thing that helped me was to make a list of powers greater than myself, such as the power of gravity that causes the earth to revolve around the sun, the power of a hurricane, the power of a parent’s love. I’m reminded of that list when I stand under the giant redwood trees in Northern California.

These trees are the largest and oldest living beings on our planet. They have stood in this place for thousands of years, anchoring this corner of the continent, impervious to almost everything, even fire. There is no way to comprehend the majesty of these towering trees without standing beneath them and walking and breathing among them. There is something about  this place that even muffles your voice, as if the forest itself is saying, “Sshh…you’re not as big as you think you are.”

The verse in Psalm 46:10 that says, “Be still, and know that I am God…” is also translated as “Cease striving, and know that I am God…” and “Be in awe, and know that I am God…”   Stand amid these marvelous creatures, be still, cease striving, and be in awe. That power is undeniable.

If you’ve been to the Redwood Forest, you know what I mean. If you haven’t, you simply must get yourself here some day and experience this.

Live hard and ride easy, friends.