Redwoods here I come

Seeing the Californian Redwoods had been one of the big objectives of my trip to the US. Their development is a direct result of the sea mists that only the northern American coast produces, so I was heading into the right area to check them out. Feeling rested and ready to ride, I was hopeful I’d manage to get to the Humbolte Redwoods State Park near Weott that evening. I did have a bit of ride in front of me though. 

The country to the west of Weed included the Trinity Alps Wilderness, part of the wider Shasta – Trinity National Forest. There were many dirt roads through this country which was very high and would have involved a lot of riding to get through (if indeed it was possible). I had plotted a combination of off-road and pavement and was happy with the mix. As it turned out, I was not going to be very successful at all. The first part of it, the Stuart Springs Rd, simply didn’t exist. It was clearly marked and named on the GPS, but it just stopped at a native indian ‘ground’ in the woods that offered accomodation and healing. I knocked on the office door (which was locked) and a woman opened up in a cloud of very sweet and ’aromatic’ smoke. Some healing was certainly going on! She explained that I’d need to take the Parks Creek FA 17 just down the road which I duly did. It was rugged bitumen and, as always, was a great ride – blue sky, 10 degrees and views forever.

Another dirt loop I’d also plotted down Bear Creek later on also ended after 5 km so it was back to pavement again. I tried for a third time at a place called Coffee Creek. This appeared really promising and would complete one side of a triangle. It did look pretty rugged, so it probably wasn’t going to save me any time though. Not to worry. It was a wonderful ride on bitumen for the first 10km or so, with the road winding up the creek and past some impressive ranches and weekenders. It soon turned into pretty good quality clay, with no gravel. I was a bit surprised at this, but it was explained a half hour later when the road stopped at the Fork Creek Trailhead. No forestry trucks were going to get through there – and neither was I.

Once again, the GPS showed the road continuing, but there was a locked gate. I found out that the road stopped a further 6 km on anyway, but there was nothing for it but to turn around and head back. Coming around a corner a little further on, I got run off the road by a pickup. To be fair, it was really only one lane, but he was travelling pretty fast and was on the left hand side of the track. I nearly pulled up to the side, but lost it at the last minute in grassy ruts, dropping the bike and stepping off as it fell. The driver was out in an instant, was very apologetic and just about picked up the loaded bike up by himself in his haste to get me upright again. Sorry Dave Ramsey, no photos this time. He explained the history of the area (it had been grazed by 1 family for 160 years) and that the only way beyond the trailhead was either on horseback or by foot. A sign at the bottom of the road would have been helpful.

I’d lost fair bit of time with the mornings exploits and I needed to get to the Redwoods so I’d have time to look around and still be in San Francisco on time. This meant slabbing it for the balance of the afternoon – not so bad, but not what I’d intended.

I hit Highway 3 and then 36. Just because they are called ‘highways’, doesn’t mean they are necessarily big or busy roads. Highway 36 was exactly 100 miles (160 km) of pure heaven. It was 2 narrow lanes of steep, twisty, winding blacktop from start to finish. Picture Mt Mee end on end for 2 or 3 hours! Just as I came onto it, another bike came up behind me. I accelerated and he stuck with me for 70 miles, riding hard and tight. It was great fun. I pulled up for a stretch and he did as well. Michael was from Melbourne and had ridden about 60,000 km in North America over the years. As you can only bring a bike into the country for 12 months, he’d purchased and registered one in Seattle, leaving it there for his regular trips to the States. It was a R1200R (I think) and he led for the last 30 miles. I was pleased that I could keep up with him on knobbies (he had road tyres) even stretching him a little in places. We got a taste of the Redwoods leading into Fortuna – every now and again we’d ride through a mile or so of these massive trees. Once in them, it was so dark that, with sunglasses on, it was like riding into night. We parted soon after with Michael heading north and myself south.

I had some decisions to make. Weott was only about 40 km away, but I needed fuel and to buy groceries. I did so, thinking I’d push on afterwards. I umm’d and ahh’d, finally deciding it was just too late. A lot of campgrounds had been booked out in recent days and there wouldn’t be any wild camping down there.

I found a camp site in an RV park and cooked my dinner on the back of the bike. I’d got a few veggies for a salad as well as meat. It was a good feed and one I needed. Oh well, a sleep in and the Redwoods in the morning. No complaints with that.