Redwoods National & State Park
Crescent City, California
After three long days wrestling with Bessie’s diesel leak at a Thor Van service center, we were done. The tech finally shrugged and said, “Diesel won’t explode—just keep driving.” Not exactly reassuring, but it was enough. We rolled out of Junction City and pointed Bessie west toward the coast, bound for the Redwoods by way of Grants Pass.
Grants Pass sits in southern Oregon along the Rogue River, surrounded by forested hills and pinot noir country. I had dreams of hiking a riverside trail or tasting wine in the Applegate Valley, but after a morning of waiting for the van and a three-hour drive, it became simply an easy overnight stop on our way to our favorite spot—Redwood Meadows RV in Hiouchi, California. We were thrilled to get the same site under the pergola again, and the staff—somehow even friendlier than the year before—welcomed us like old friends. We booked three nights, determined to see it all this time.
That first evening, we drove into Crescent City and landed at Port O’ Pints Brewing Co. for their legendary Reuben: corned beef marinated in Red Irish beer, melted Swiss, coleslaw, and thousand island on toasted rye. Heaven. I had my heart set on hiking Fern Canyon, that moss-covered, prehistoric gorge where ferns drip from vertical walls like green waterfalls. The next morning we stopped at the Hiouchi Visitor Center, got the latest trail info, and reserved our 9 a.m. entry for Gold Bluffs Beach and Fern Canyon.
We’d also hoped to hike Tall Trees Grove, but I’d forgotten the separate reservation. Instead, we explored Lady Bird Johnson Grove, an ethereal forest wrapped in fog and silence. The trees felt like cathedrals, and every breath smelled of earth and rain.
Dinner that night was a winner—Seaside Restaurant inside the Ocean Lodge. Thick chowder, crispy fish-and-chips, and a sunset that lit the beach on fire. Our waiter insisted we visit the Trees of Mystery gondola south of town, but Alan vetoed the idea (“no tourist traps!”). So we wandered Stout Grove and Grove of the Titans instead—trails we’d walked the previous year but that somehow felt brand-new. Kodi bounded through Stout Grove like she owned it, though we had to carry her over the metal grate at Titans—another bit of drama for the next book.
That evening happened to be my birthday, so we drove north to Spinners Restaurant in Gold Beach, Oregon. No more mushroom pastry on the menu, sadly, but the sunset made up for it—rose-gold light spilling over the Pacific like a toast.
By Day 3, rain had moved in. Everyone in Hiouchi seemed to have the same breakfast plan, and Hiouchi Café was jammed. We packed up early, waved goodbye to our favorite campsite, and headed inland toward Mount Shasta, three hours east. The rain tapered, clouds thinned, and by the time we hit the highway, the sky ahead was wide open and full of promise.
