After a cold night in the car and an early morning we reached the Redwoods around 10 in the morning. It was cold and foggy, perfect weather for a walk with giants and trolls. The ferns covered the floor and all the fallen down tree trunks, around us in the dank proximity to the stream thinner trees with moss hanging like beards from them stood together with us small humans at the foots of these giants. The sky was blue where we could see it, but here deep in the forest there was meager light. A truly grand experience.
What was not as good was the signs that did not seem to have correct information when it comes to distances and I still do not know where those trails where leading us. The Rotary had also chiseled out a stone for themselves commemorating their own grove, in 1952. They did not fool me: those trees had been there longer than 60 years.
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