Hyperion is the world’s tallest tree. Discovered along California’s coast in 2006, this soaring 379-foot-tall redwood is taller than the Statue of Liberty! Don’t bother trying to find this record-breaking tree though… this elusive redwood is in the National Park Service’s version of the Witness Protection program. 

The few people who know about Hyperion’s whereabouts, keep his exact GPS coordinates a closely-guarded secret. Park rangers purportedly even have code names for Hyperion, to prevent classified location intel from leaking to intrepid tree tourists. 

Why the shroud of secrecy? Rangers fear that if Hyperion’s location became common knowledge, the redwood would suffer from the dark side of fame. Stampedes of Instagramming vacationers could trample the understory vegetation, compact soil air pockets, and graffiti the tree’s bark. Journalist Robert Earle Howells thoughtfully explores the inadvertent side effects of well-meaning nature tourism in his article “Should We Hide the Locations of the Earth’s Greatest Trees?” 

Some claim that Northern California’s ancient redwoods conceal another giant: the fabled Bigfoot. The infamous 1967 Gimlin-Patterson Bigfoot footage was filmed at nearby Bluff Creek. Collections of grainy black-and-white filmstrips and mysterious footprints fuel swirling sasquatch rumours which continue to persist to this day. Whether or not you believe in Bigfoot, the legend continues to live on in local folklore. 

Northern California is a wild place…who knows what else lurks in unexplored parts of the map?

Thick blankets of coastal fog envelop solemn stands of 2,000-year-old redwood trees. Black bears rummage for wild huckleberries while steelhead salmon leap in the creeks. Old growth forests provide critical habitat for threatened species such as marbled murrelets, northern spotted owls, and fisher weasels.  And just yards away, sea lions lumber along the crashing gray waves of the untamed Pacific Ocean, while stone crabs flee hungry gulls.

In the 1850’s, an estimated two million acres of coastal redwood trees loomed over the Pacific Coast. Today, only four percent has survived. Of the small sliver that remains, 45 percent of the forests are contained within the 131,983 acre expanse of Redwoods National and State Park. 

EXPLORING REDWOOD NATIONAL PARK-

Due to our impeccable timing, California was in flames when we visited. A severe outbreak of wildfires produced extremely high concentrations of PM2.5 particulate pollutants which severely impaired visibility, and most importantly, air quality. A smokey haze combined with the daily coastal fog, producing an impenetrable wall of yellow-gray nothingness that swallowed the horizon. The pervasive smokescreen dyed the sun an ominous red.. which further accentuated the Armageddon vibes. 

Approximately 7,900 wildfires have burned over 3.5 million acres in California since the beginning of 2020, according to CalFire. Since mid-August, when fire activity peaked, there have been 26 fatalities and 5,800 destroyed structures. 

Because of the poor air quality, we tried to scale back the intensity and duration of our outdoor activities. On clearer days, we lucked out with a chance to stroll through Redwood National Park’s stately groves. 

These grand forests are truly nature’s cathedral. They inspire humility like nowhere else. 

Redwoods average a massive 16 to 20 feet in diameter. The widest coastal redwood tree is measured at 29.2 feet…. the length of two Volkswagen Beetles! Despite their mammoth size, redwoods have no central taproot to rely upon for water reserves and stability. And it turns out that these colossuses are uniquely adapted to the idyllic coastal environment, with the ubiquitous coastal fog supplying redwoods with up to 40 percent of their moisture intake. The “goldilocks” conditions of this unique ecosystem — lack of snow and cold, cool summers, gentle winds, and abundant rain — that enables such gigantism also means that the Redwoods are not able to survive in other regions with more extreme conditions. Along with many die-hard Californians, they will always be confined to the beautiful, moderate conditions of the Pacific coastline.

Like ants, we mostly admired the buttresses of these goliath trees, not being able to see all the way to their towering crowns. I briefly fantasized about climbing one. Seeing the heavens above from the canopy of a coastal redwood would be an exhilarating experience. However, lacking the nimble freedom of flying squirrels and spotted owls, we enjoyed the confines of the terrestrial well enough. 

Adam and I hiked the stately groves at Brown Creek and Lady Johnson Grove. We admired how even dead trees sustained life… fallen trunks turn into “nurse logs” which provide a sturdy foundation and nutrients for many new saplings to climb toward the sky, much like grandparents! Upturned roots nurture ferns, and missing trees permit a patch of sunlight to fall upon ground from which new life springs. 

MAGICAL FERN GULLY-

Fern Canyon was our favorite hidden paradise. Imagine a moist pebbled canyon shadowed by 40 foot walls carpeted in primeval ferns. Musical waterfalls trickle through a sea of velvety five-fingered ferns, lacey sword ferns, and dainty lady ferns.

Sparkling water drops hang from pointed fronds like dewey crystals set against a kaleidoscope of emerald green. Hiking the canyon floor involves hopping over a web of babbling streams, fallen logs, and double-planked footbridges. It was totally worth the very challenging drive to get there. 

Movie director Steven Spielberg also fell in love with the prehistoric aesthetic of this canyon; one of the dinosaur attack scenes in Jurassic Park II was filmed right here!