BREATH OF FRESH AIR AMONG THE REDWOODS
Air can supply psychological nutrients. Doubt me? Go to Sam Mcdonald County Park in San Mateo, step out of your car, move a few steps into the redwoods and breathe. Trust me — your brain will feel better. Then head down the park’s winding, wonderful trails for more of that redwood-suffused air. It does take a bit of behind-the-wheel winding to get to Sam’s digs (and watch out for cyclists!), but once you move into the redwood cathedral zones, you’re golden. Or green. Sam Mcdonald is part of the 8,000-acre Pescadero Creek Park complex. It’s adjacent to Portola Redwoods State Park, so you have lots of nearby options to take in those healing redwoody breaths.
Breathe deep
Redwoods are old souls, yet they retain their regal presence, whether you clap your hand on an enormous but softly yielding trunk or use that trunk as a balance to tilt your head back and look up — and up and up — at the tree’s canopy. My stalwart companion Alice and I chose the Heritage Grove Trail for our trek, padding on the soft duff of redwood needles and leaves through the clusters of trees.
Because I’ve a bit of a balky hip, we only went 1.8 miles in before turning back, so our 3.6-mile jaunt was one of ease — that part of the trail is fairly flat. It’s flat, but wondrous, with all those fetching redwood features of downed trees in partial rot, some trunks hollowed out into hobbit holes by fire, and the many stately, healthy trees spicing the air with sliced light.
Though it’s a place of deer, raccoons, bobcats and foxes, the only wildlife we saw up close were some glistening banana slugs, who couldn’t care less that they sat oozing in the center of the trails. Birdsong filled the air, the only sour note from a crow who sat in a close-by tree as we passed, complaining, because black is the new black, about our bright outfits.
It’s a simple prescription, and free: Go walk in the redwoods, feel better.
There’s nothing general about it
If after a good redwoods hike, I suggested you eat a cold egg salad sandwich and some chips, you might say, “OK, whatever.” But grab that lunch at the San Gregorio General Store, which is about 15 minutes from the trails off Highway 84, because a standard country store this ain’t.
It’s a locals gathering place, a tourist’s surprise, an emporium of odd and unusual (as well as practical) goods, a bookstore, a biker’s haven, a cyclist’s roost and a watering hole. And the ocean is its neighbor.
So if the menu of homemade — and good — sandwiches, pastries, chips and candy doesn’t entice you, you could always throw back some tequila while you ponder who put those big dry-rot fish heads on the fence posts in the front parking lot.
Even though the store is fairly small, you’ll want to wander every aisle and look closely, because there are gaggles of amusing cards, hats, posters, pillows, cast-iron pots, soaps, cups, figurines and a whole lot more. No, this isn’t a general store: It’s a specific store, filled with specific examples of mirth and whimsy.
And on the weekends, it’s also filled with music, with local bands playing bluegrass, country, folk rock and other tunes.
While we were there, the Squirrels of Wisdom put out some sweetly layered sounds. I probably should have had a shot of Wild Turkey with my Anchor Steam, but then I might have started singing too, and there’s no hope in that.
Strange bedfellows redwoods and egg salad might be, but all in all, mighty tasty.