Under the Redwoods.

Redwood trunks, straight , rising up and beyond sight.
Silence
My steps are barely heard on the forest floor.
No birdsound !

And a rare delight – I don’t know where I am!

Other people, ‘older’ like me, are always ready for a chat. Many are dog walkers. And there are dogs of many breeds and sizes. At first the doggos are cautious, then, tail wagging, happy to be spoken too – patted.

Frequent signs,
‘All dogs must be on a lead.’

Forest walkers are friendly and very happy to chat.
They give advice on ‘where the steep bits are’ .
And how I can find my way back to the car. This is helpful as I have quite lost my sense of knowing where I am. For me this is rare. Unsettling. I am surrounded by foliage, much of it see through foliage but to more foliage. I am only sure of the car being ‘down there’ somewhere.
A friendly Scotsman (with a Kiwi burr) points to a track which arrives at ‘the car park’.
It is one of many car parks, but now, with my sense of direction returning, I know which car park and with the press of the contactless key, lights of The Car are winking.

4,000 steps. Old fashioned walking, the GPS map on my smart phone now making sense.
I am ready for a break. The chance to sit down. Something – anything – to eat and drink.

And back at the motel, waiting, is Boris. The Motel Moggy, loyal friend, manipulator – always hopeful for a smuggled bite of cooked chicken.