In the Redwoods

When the heat of Summer became too much, we would retreat to the shade and cool of Armstrong Redwoods. Arriving as the park opened, it was as though we had to woods to ourselves.

We would hike for a few hours, over hilltops, down ravines, down switchback trails, or sprinting up hills like a mountain goat (Chad, not me – I panted and struggled up behind him trying to keep up as best I could). His huge leg muscles worked like giant springs and he fairly vaulted up steep paths ahead of me.

I always loved walking the woods with him as he had a sense of wonder and amazement like a child. One minute he would be striding purposefully along the path, the next moment he would be crouched by a fern or log staring intently at a spiderweb, a lizard, a cool rock, a flower, a bug… it didn’t matter. Whatever it was that caught his eye would then get his full and rapt attention and his booming voice would drop into hushed tones of awe. And then, just as quickly, he would be bounding off again.

He always carried a sense of peace in the woods that stayed with him for a few hours after and I was sorry that he never wanted to go camping and spend a few days out in nature that way. He said he had enough of sleeping in dirt when he was in the Army and that was the end of that discussion.