I can understand how a man would want to cut it down. He wants to tame this giant in front of him, to assert his strength over 1000's of years of growth. To put his stamp on the earth and say I took down one of these trees. Or perhaps it was out of necessity, a growing population, a bourgeuois that needed the finest of woods for their furniture, their houses, their carts, they'd settle for nothing less than the wood from the trees that survived the ice age. But most likely someone looked at these awe inspiring and fabulous creations, pieces of nature that renew your faith and humble your being until all you can say is wow, maybe they look into these forests and can't see past the dollar signs. How? How is it possible someone could walk into these forests and not feel guilty with every chop or chainsaw? How could they not sit beneath the branches of these bohemoth green canopies and write songs and poetry, have picnics with their loved ones, or heaven forbid... just sit?

I suppose they have families to feed, loans to pay off and jobs to do. And who am I to judge really. I just know one thing, I walked into the Giant Redwood Forest today not knowing what to expect and I saw trees that were seedlings in the middle ages. I'll never be the same. Even now as I sit in the 11th floor of a Holiday Inn in San Francisco, I'm reminded that I would still be in the shadow of those California Giant Redwoods climbing over 300 feet into the sky. And you know what, they can grow back without us. Buildings can't. Mother nature, you amaze me.

After a long, long nights drive through winding roads, and passing trucks with bright lights and engine brakes, we all have metaphorical flowers in our hair. Eir is fighting sleep at 2am, Freja is passed out and my eyes are heavy. Tomorrow we set out to the streets in search of memories and music, oceans and golden gates...

Until next time...

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