Do you have places in your life that really center you? Places where you are supremely present and lifted and expanded when you are there? Places that fill you with joy?
I have several, and Fern Canyon at Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park in Northern California is way up on the list. Fern Canyon is a wonder — not a huge place but a tucked away, small, magical spot that takes a bit of inconvenience to reach. Only about as wide as a house and as high as maybe four stories, it's a little slice in the earth with a playful stream running through it. But what makes it really special are the waving, dripping ferns which cover the walls. Rare and ancient species of ferns adorn the canyon sides, creating verdant panels of constant movement as you enter and explore the canyon. Green, green, green is all you see as you gaze up beyond the canyon walls into the tree canopy above.
The first time we heard of and visited Fern Canyon was the summer of 2020. With all the turmoil and apprehension in our world, we decided to take a road trip north to Oregon (a place we love where we lived for six years). That trip was restorative and beautiful of its own, and the bonus was the drive back home all along the coast of Oregon and California.
If you're not familiar, the northwest part of California is where the bulk of the national and state redwood parks lie. There are many — and still some we haven't explored. Well, we found ourselves pulled off the road for a lovely hike in the redwoods with our dog in Prairie Creek Redwoods State Park. When we came off the trail, we got to chatting with a German couple and their two young children. They had been so enchanted by the Fern Canyon hike and encouraged us to go. Our son Camden had already been pulling for a Fern Canyon foray, but we hadn't been sure that we had enough time as we considered reaching our hotel farther south.
So we made time. It's a 45-minute (one way) drive on a single-lane, winding dirt road over a few shallow stream beds. When we got there, we learned that dogs aren't allowed on the Fern Canyon trail. It was a relief that the weather was cool and parking was shaded, so Cheerio rested in our car (we’re lucky he’s not much of a barker). Because it was summer, the light was very clear overhead, so as we reached the start of the canyon, it was a dappled green picture of refreshing beauty: the stream, the rippling ferns and the sense of wholeness that everything was alright in the world despite the virus and the unrest plaguing so many. Primordial is the feeling. Despite the sounds, colors and movements of the people there, it still felt set apart.
As with any natural setting, our four kids set off to explore. And I enjoyed seeing that. As I've written before in Westward Toward the Light, it brings me great joy to see my children wandering and investigating unhindered. It gives me joy to see anyone getting that opportunity. Humanity so needs to be a part of nature — integrated into it, not separate.
We wandered, hopped over the stream, gingerly stepped over the waters on logs and rocks, marveled at the trickles of water spilling down the fern-covered walls, feasted our eyes on all the fresh green glow of the place. The sound of the stream and the dripping water and the muffled effect of the canyon’s isolation was so nurturing for our senses. No agenda. Just being. Just enjoying.
Fern Canyon really touched all of us. Once we were home, I had a poster made of my favorite photo of our kids in the canyon. It's a memory I hold dear.
So, we recently returned in early January as part of our Northern California trip, where we were looking at colleges for Camden. This time it was only four of us: Dan, Camden, Sylvie and I. And no Cheerio marooned in the car during the hike. Because it's winter and the sun's angle is low, the colors were quieter and more muted in the canyon. Yet it refreshed and delighted us, as before. A place of constancy and nourishment for the soul.
This time we went farther into the canyon and came to a trail leading up and out and along the forested clifftops above. There, we reveled in the hush of the old forest and the mists around us. There, we could also hear the ocean's rhythm not far away. We treasured another exploration of an area that feels so set apart, so peaceful. As we came down from the clifftops to the stream bed below where the canyon path begins, we saw more visitors entering the area to be blessed by the magic and serenity of it all. I was glad, as we left, that such a place exists where people can be recharged and restored.
As ever, Fern Canyon entranced us with her simple, feathery, green beauty and surround-sound, watery comfort. Visiting her sanctuary of calm contributed to the tone of contentment and serenity I have felt in 2024. It was just what I needed, what we needed once again, as we needed it in 2020. Fern Canyon is a healing place, and I hope you'll get the chance to visit someday. I'd love to hear it, if you have.
Thankful,
Jen