Hugging the damp and slippery rock, I stepped carefully on its narrow ridge, avoiding the crashing shallow waves beneath my feet. Only three steps and I was safe; I jumped onto the dry sand and squinted. The tide was low at Muir Beach where Redwood Creek separated the tide pools from the main beach.
We hopped between pools of salt water among the rocks, searching for treasures of sea life. As we gazed, rewarded more often than not, sudden waves threatened to soak us with their sprays. Blues and reds, starfish and sea anemones and crabs held our fascination. We pointed and laughed and danced among the rocks before climbing the slippery trail back to safety, away from the crashing and encroaching sea.
We hadn’t planned on a visit to Muir Beach that day, but the parking lot at Muir Woods was full and as we drove down the road looking for a place to park, we continued nearer and nearer to the beach. It was the Sunday after Christmas, the sun was out and the temperature was in the 50s.
Now with wet jeans and shoes, we left the beach for the Pelican Inn. With its Tudor style building, its long wooden tables and fireplace, the Pelican Inn offers a British respite from the fog and trees and beach. We sat at the tables, laughing and sharing stories over pints of ale and mugs of hot cider, a sampling of cheese, apples, and a plate of chips before arriving at Muir Woods at dusk.
The giant redwoods loomed bigger in the dimming light. The salmon weren’t spawning, but the crowds were gone, and the woods were still. We walked quickly along the paved paths, smelling the damp mossy air, the blend of bay leaves and pine and bark, reveling in the magnitude and majesty of the trees, before leaving just as the rangers locked the gate behind us.
Trip Taken December 2009