Redwaaaa?!

We’re finally there. Imagine.

Blake stops in his tracks and says, “ Oh my God, look at that stump!”

I turn. I look. I see a stump that is large, no doubt, but suspiciously average looking as far as stumps go. Attempting to conjure up some enthusiasm for what I know is an important moment for the most important arborist in my life, I respond, “Ohhh sure. Big.” All the while thinking, is this what the pilgrimage to the Redwoods is all about?

But in the fleeting moments in which that thought came and went from my mind, Blake echoed his desire that I “looooook;” and it was only then that the Disney orchestra music reached its crescendo, the sunlight parted the shadows, and tiny birds fluttered about my head to turn my attention to the biggest tree stump I have ever seen in my life!

This, is an exceptionally bad photo of the initial stump I finally set eyes on.

This forest peak, this mountain made of wood and bark, rising from the same place we were standing with our mouths gaping open like baby birds, stood 20ft tall with an 8ft diameter. This was only a small remnant of the tree that had once climbed toward the sun, and made it closer than any other creature in the forest. And it was FREAKING AMAZING. (I’ll be honest, there was a string of joyful and resounding expletives. Feel free to shout them to your yourself at this juncture if you wish to have a more experiential read.)

But we didn’t come here to see the stumps.

We came here to check off some hand carved and sustainably forested boxes on the Tree Hugger’s Top Ten Lifetime List.

And hug some trees we did.

Don’t worry, he asked for consent before wrapping those arms around her.

The scale of these behemoths is difficult to put into words, even for and adverb/adjective heavy author such as myself. I’m certain there is an entirely different ecosystem that lives at the top of them because I think the treetops are likely in a different atmosphere.

Blake says there is a scientist at the local Humboldt State University that climbs the same Redwoods annually to measure their year over year growth. Apparently the old growth is still growing to this day. and grows at a faster rate every year. This is fascinating, of course, but I think the real hero in this story is the custom tape measure craftsperson. Can you imagine if you’re the guy climbing an ancient Redwood for the purpose of measuring it, only to discover your tape measure is too short? You would be an embarrassment to your field and your country. So props to the ladies and gentlemen out there making sure we all know exactly how much tree we are looking at!