California is a homeschool family’s dream state.  Maybe that’s why homeschooling and unschooling are so popular there. We decided to head south and find out what was going on with all those tall redwoods we’d heard about.  You know, the ones that used to be up our way, before logging them became the order of the day.

Highway 199 was our intro to California, and it could not have been more beautiful.  The “Are we there yet?” became a math exercise:  “Kids, YOU tell ME how close we are to being there yet…look for green signs that say Crescent City.  And look at this map.”  We don’t have GPS, but that might also have been helpful for their awareness of distance, rate, and time.

Crescent City is a perfect example of the place where geology meets history.  In 1964, an earthquake in Alaska triggered a tsunami that came all the way over to this coastal fishing and surfing town, creating devastation that somehow still can be felt today, even though things were rebuilt. Standing there on the long pier, we contemplated what it must have been like to receive that lethal wall of water, to have no idea whatsoever that it was even coming.

We camped under the redwoods and learned about their shallow root systems, and how the foggy, temperate climate of coastal California is what these trees crave.  We saw the partnership between thees trees and the ferns below them; we greeted the stewards of the redwood lands, huge banana slugs who clean up the forest floor, and, mesmerized by their color and size, began our own study of the redwoods’ most famous mascot.

California is so lucky to have the Jedediah Smith Redwoods park, and the lesser-known Stout Memorial Grove.  There, in the high season of August, we hiked and hiked with no other tourists in sight.  It was a fantastic opportunity to learn about nature’s silence—and, conversely, what humankind has done to break that beautiful silence.

We got to see what happens when the mightiest of the mighty fall down, and a discussion ensued about other tall, mighty things that have met their end.  We talked about shallow roots and the forces of nature, and about the life cycle—how even something 600 years old still has a life cycle to contend with.  We compared the life cycle of a redwood, a banana slug, a human, a dog (great for practicing the 7 times tables), and Pacific salmon.

There we were, among the giants, surrounded by silence, considering the realities of the natural world.

The fog rolled in; we roasted marshmallows and kept close to our campfire.  The next day, we headed down to Arcata and Eureka to take a look at the university I very nearly attended in the 80s, Humboldt State. Seeing the place, I had to wonder: How might my future have turned out differently if I had indeed come here to study?  I wound up attending schools with far less of an environmental concern.  And then I traveled overseas and worked in a developing country that seemed hell-bent on ruining its soil, water and air, all in the name of economic advancement.  Humboldt State might have been a superb start for me, but alas, it never happened.  But it could for my kids.  It definitely could.

We stopped to snap a photo of a gorgeous Victorian mansion built in 1887. I am all for beautiful architecture, but this place was the home of one of the barons of the logging industry, William Carson.  “Did he know he was taking the redwood trees away forever?” my son asked.

“Yes, I suppose.  But that wasn’t what people cared about back then.  And remember, it has taken gasoline and oil, and exhaust and food packaging, to enable the three of us to be standing here looking at this mansion,” I said.  “None of us can say that we don’t impact the forests.  All of us consume.”

We drove the Lost Coast to Mendocino Point, and talked about the difficulty of living somewhere miles and miles from services and medical care.  All around us, California sparkled.   “See, boys?” I said.  “Just remember that there is a California that isn’t the thing you’re always seeing and hearing on television shows.  There’s THIS California, too.”

“Will it get to stay this way?” my son asked.  “What about people like that guy with the mansion?”

“I’m not sure.  I hope so.  There are still people like that guy.  But just remember how this place looks today, and keep that memory in mind when you’re grown.”