Week 40 : Miranda to Pepperwood

Amy and I are walking again: walking north, walking along the Avenue of the Giants. Following the Eel River. Heading first for Eureka, then for Oregon, then Seattle, and then .... well let's not get ahead of ourselves.

We sat and looked at the map at the Myers Country Inn, a few miles north of Miranda. It's a smart place: wood verandas, floral prints, all that kind of stuff. All very North Californian. But Amy didn't seem impressed. "This place is No. 24 in the list of 101 things to do in Humboldt County", I told her. "God help the other 76", her look seemed to say.

We followed the road north skirting Humboldt Redwoods State Park. As you walk by this massive 52,000 acre park, you have to admire the American approach to going back to nature. The campgrounds are all carefully set out with well-kept paved roads for your SUV. There are showers and toilets, picnic tables, and even wi-fi networks for your computer. But, as Amy was quick to point out, despite all the promise of going back to nature and the days of the pioneers, dogs are not allowed in most places. It's because you might chase the Grizzly Bears and give them a fright I told her. She ignored me: she was too busy composing a letter of complaint to Governor Schwarzenegger. It wasn't all endless tree-scapes. Towards the end of the week was a bit of a high spot : the point at which the various forks of the Eel River join together. This is near a place called Duckett Bluff which is noted for .... well actually it's noted for very little other than its bluff. The following day we came to the settlement of Redcrest. Checking out the website to find the scale of the place I was intrigued to see an option which promised me "ten job vacancies in Redcrest, Ca". This sounded good, here was a town of some substance if it could offer ten job vacancies in these troubled economic times. Alas, I was wrong yet again. I should have been suspicious when I checked out the first on the list which was a vacancy for an Army Chaplain in Iraq!

Before the week came to an end we travelled through Engelwood, Holmes Flat, Shively and Pepperwood and there was hardly a wooden hut between them. "They love their names, these Americans", I commented to Amy. She sniffed at something and we walked on. Alone. With just the Eel River and the trees for company.

Week 39 : Richardson Grove to Miranda

Amy and I left the tiny settlement of Richardson Grove and continued our walk north, following the course of the South Fork of the Eel River which would eventually lead us back to the Pacific Ocean. It had been weeks since we last saw the sea and we were beginning to miss the ever-changing vistas which only a coastline could provide. We were beginning to go a bit tree-crazy and I began to think lovingly of those islands which are completely bereft of trees. I mentioned this to Amy as we walked along Redwood Highway, but - thinking that I was going a little tree-crazy - she ignored me.

A few miles north of Richardson Grove you have two choices : the serious concrete and tarmac of Highway 101 - a serious road which hereabouts is called the Redwood Highway, and the more laid back, twist-here-a-bit, twist-there-a-bit, Benbow Drive. We took the latter which took us - after a suitable twist and turn - to the settlement of Benbow. Benbow has a golf course, an "RV resort" (it's a kind of up-market trailer park) and an Inn. I read to Amy from the brochure : "You would think you were in England instead of northern California when you first see the large Tudor-style Benbow Inn". She was somewhat confused by this and I could see her thinking "why would anyone walk the streets of England, imagining that they were walking the streets of Northern California, so that they could think they were in England instead of Northern California?". It was my turn to ignore her, so I carried on reading from the brochure. "The English theme continues as you step inside the lounge with its large antique fireplace flanked by comfortable sofas, antique chests, paintings, needlepoint, cherry-wood wainscoting, two grandfather clocks, potted green plants, and a splendid Oriental carpet. At tea time complimentary English tea and scones are served". "Can't you just imagine we were back in England?", I said to her as we gazed at the mock-Tudor facade. Her look said it all : "We are, you old fool".

The hotel was built back in 1926 and has a rich history. It was built by the Benbow family - nine brothers and sisters - and soon became a popular hide-away for the rich and famous. Guests have included the likes of Spencer Tracy, Clark Gable, Alan Ladd, Charles Laughton, Nelson Eddy and Jeanette MacDonald, Joan Fontaine, and Basil Rathbone. The Hotel and resort has everything a virtual traveller could desire and Amy was particularly taken with the "special doggie playground and the Salon'd Soggy Doggy™ Pet Wash which is complete with hot and cold water so fido can really be pampered".

The next place of note was Garberville, a small town a few miles north of Benbow. It was originally called Dogtown, I informed Amy, but the local dignitaries thought that it needed an image makeover so they renamed it after the local postmaster, a certain Jacob C Garber. Amy showed the local dignitaries just what she thought of them in the way only a dog can. The town is kind of interesting with its fine old Theatre, its town square with weekly Farmers' Market, and its two local newspapers. Kind of interesting, but - if truth be told - not very. Amy and I had a quick pint at the wonderfully named Branding Iron Saloon (OK, I had a pint and she had a dish of water) and then we left town. Just round the corner from Garberville is Redway which is even more kind of forgettable. So we did. And we left.

North of Redway there is very little but trees, but there are an awful lot of them. Again there is a choice of roads : you can take the new Highway 101 Freeway or you can wander up the old road which is now known as the Avenue Of The Giants. "It's world famous", I tell Amy. "It's included in that book, 1,000 Places To See Before You Die". "It's trees", Amy replied. Or at least she seemed to. Perhaps I am going a bit tree-crazy. We pass through Phillipsville which is even less of a town than Redway. We check out the local beauty spot which is known as the Chimney Tree. It turns out to be a tree in the shape of a chimney. "Pretty cool", I say to Amy. Her diagnosis confirmed she starts planning the rest of the trip as a solo walk. Clearly I am on the verge of being institutionalised.

By the end of the week we reach Miranda which sounds as though it should be a big and exciting community. It isn't. The town has a post office, two restaurants, a motel, a market, a Seventh-day Adventist church, a Latter-Day Saints Church and a small, rural high school (grades 8-12), a gas station, and a gift shop. Oh, I almost forgot. It's also got an awful lot of trees.