”I was an ant in the midst of the
iant ancient trees. After some
time I stopped cyclin and just
stood still and closed my eyes”
a warning system because the highway was busy
with cars and trucks roaring past.
I intended to stay on the premises of a church in
Crescent City but to find out more I had to go to the city’s
Public Library and contact a lady who would help me
to get access. The folks at the library were very helpful
and soon I was on my way to the Evangelical Church.
It had a community hall that stood next to the main
church with a large kitchen, a play area for children,
and a meeting room. I had the whole hall to myself,
except for a group of elderly women who were attending
a class on weaving. I was amazed to see the modern
version of the ‘charkha’ or the weaving wheel being
used. The ladies were very friendly and I chatted
with them for a while. One of them demonstrated
the weaving process to me and invited me home
for dinner but I declined politely as I had no clean
clothes and only one pair of shoes that were muddy.
After they left, I made myself comfortable on the large
couch by spreading out my sleeping bag on it.
I was grateful in my heart to be hosted in a warm
and comfortable place with hot water and soap,
always a luxury for a touring cyclist.
After my rather late afternoon nap, I explored
the city’s harbour and a famous landmark called
the Battery Point Lighthouse. This was one of the first
lighthouses in California, built in 1856 and it even
survived the 1964 Alaska earthquake and the
subsequent tsunami, the most powerful ever
JOURNALILLUSTRATION:ARTISTICCOLLC/123RFrecorded in the northern hemisphere. The lighthouse
can usually be approached only during low tide
and I walked across, careful not to tread on any
of the sea life — like starfish — that abound in tide pools.
The lighthouse was built with brick and granite
and had a cylindrical tower with a balcony and
a lantern. It was painted in ochre red and off-white,
looking remarkable against the backdrop
of the deep blue waters of the ocean.
The town of Trinidad rests on the coast, 101km
to the south, but, to get to it, I had to climb many hills
and ride amidst some of the most magnificent trees
I had ever seen at the Redwood Forest State Park.
The protected forest is an old growth temperate
rainforest of coast redwood or the Sequoia
sempervirens. These are the largest and tallest trees
on the planet and many of them are around 1,200
to 1,800 years old. Native American tribes such as
the Yurok used the redwood to build boats and houses.
I cycled with a sense of awe and disbelief. I was an ant
in the midst of the giant, ancient trees. After some time,
I stopped cycling and just stood still and closed my eyes.
I could feel the energy of the forest. It spoke a language
I was just beginning to understand. It had the same
energy I had felt in the forests of the Yukon and British
Columbia. There were no sounds of birds and no wind –
only the occasional caw of a raven. Just the hushed
silence carrying the silent soundwaves of the trees
talking to each other. I called out to the giant tree
closest to me and held it with my hands and closed
my eyes. I sought its blessings and asked it to tell
me stories of what it had witnessed in the hundreds
of years of its existence in my dreams. I felt my skin
prickle and my body tremble. There was a powerful
life in this forest. The experience energised me and I
continued to cycle till I reached the top of the
hill and began my descent to the coast again.Excerpted from Grit, Gravel and Gear
by Dhurv Bogra (The Write Place)DISCLAIMER: ALL VIEWS, THOUGHTS, AND OPINIONS EXPRESSED IN THE TEXT BELONG SOLELY TO THE AUTHOR