The Journey Inward

My last day of road tripping. Condensing a 7 day journey into 4, the drives were beginning to make me a bit weary. But I had been anticipating my first stop just over the Oregon border in Brookings. Having missed out on Homboldt State Park the day before, this was to be my consolation prize. My ill equipped little rental climbed the four mile ascent with ease engine-wise, but the low chassis struggled with the uneven, potholed dirt road. 25 minutes later at the top, I walked the 1.5 mile loop through the redwood forest. It was creepy at first – me being alone, no cell service, no one knowing where I was, and too many unsolved murder documentaries with the kids last week. But then peace came as the forest enveloped me. I started marking my trail so as not to get lost and breathed in the fresh mountain air. I looked up at the massive giants, decades and decades worth of stories to tell and I wondered if they’d share. I looked at the shrubs and wondered how they felt beside these behemoths. And then I took in the forest floor, the plants that thrived in the shade of the redwoods’ canopy. They had it figured out in this forest and lived together harmoniously.

Crossing into Oregon, everything changed. If California was cruising up the coast in a fancy sportscar, Oregon made me yearn for my Subaru and rooftop tent. California was badass and bold me. The cities were vibrant and electric. Oregon me felt humble and quiet. The landscape was natural and peaceful. I felt small, but not inconsequential.

My heart felt at home in an inexplicable, visceral way as I drove deeper into Oregon. I had the same feeling on the coast of Scotland. Some places just reach out and grab us and hold us as willing hostages. Nature was courting me and wooing me to return to the very essence of who I am. My friend told me this is “spiritual geography,” that place where we know we can be our very best Self.

I wondered if I’d ever really seen beauty. I wondered if I’d ever really known peace. Had I ever felt more in sync with nature? The rugged coastline of Oregon had me seeing as if for the first time, while simultaneously feeling wholly and completely at home.

The charred remains of massive trees sobered me and reminded me of Nature’s power and fury. One beach had the waterlogged ghosts of giant redwoods, bleached from sun and surf. Huge boulders of sea stacks and islands jutted out of the water, formed by millions of years of erosion from ancient lava flows. Clouds rose from the sea and rushed in wispy swirls across the road. The redwoods were mesmerizingly magnificent, standing majestically on the mountains to my right.

I was pressed for time, trying to get to my daughter and maybe even see her boat come in, but the sights pulled me in and begged me to stop, to soak them in, to linger. I didn’t know if I’d see miles more of the same or if this was an anomaly, and so I stopped. Over and over again, I pulled into lots and to the sides of 101 and jogged to a lookout point. Colorful beach bungalows standing brightly in a row, waves crashing thunderously into rocky coves, mountains covered in massive redwoods reaching down to the sea, tributaries, cliffs, rivers, marshes. I couldn’t resist.

The day ended with my daughter picking me up from the rental car place. The magic of Oregon and my miles of coastline driving took a backseat to this young woman and her little town and life. Her boat had gotten in early and i had arrived late, but we hugged tight, and rocked back and forth in each other’s presence now. It had only been a week since I’d seen her in San Diego, but I was in her home now. She would show me what her adult life looked like.

We started with a tour of the boat and meeting her direct superior. Then a stroll along the riverwalk, followed by dinner and grocery shopping, and ultimately unpacking and settling in at her home. She’d been at sea a month and I’d been away nearly two weeks now.

To put words to this day has been a struggle, for it feels as though the right ones for this experience just don’t exist yet. But maybe these are enough for now.

Photos: 9.17.25 by LA