Mendocino County coast. I love the variety of landscapes along the coast, with hills behind, wave-cut terraces & bluffs, pocket beaches below, and sea stacks right offshore. And the salty air, aaahh.

Bless Dad for providing one last family adventure. He wanted his ashes spread where his parents’ ashes had been scattered. (Too bad he couldn’t remember the specific spot, even two years ago.) We all flew to Sacramento separately, since most of us extended the trip a bit. My siblings regrouped there, to share memories and dinner with autocross buddies, longtime friends.

I have no need for speed (or noise) and skipped the racing bug, so my husband and I enjoyed a romantic road trip farther up the coast, closer to our old alma mater, Humboldt State University, where we met 40 years ago.

Just below Lake Berryessa, on our way over the Coast Range to the Napa vineyards. The dark hillside had just burned the week before. So sad.

We drove through wine country, which we had not been able to enjoy way back then. The traffic is terrible in places, but the countryside is so lovely, with its rolling hills and wandering valleys, its scattered oak trees and verdant vineyards. Wildflowers are missing this year, but there are gardens, some of which are watered.

We drove through and stopped to walk and wonder anew at the redwoods, aaahh! The forests are mostly second growth, the trees

This redwood above Fern Canyon, Russian Gulch State Park, Mendocino, seems to be growing new bark over the old burn.

growing like fairy rings around the stumps of their parents. Even so, they are already immense and inspire awe. The groves are so incredibly quiet; even the birds seem subdued. There is such a sense of peace and even holiness among all the grandeur and beauty.

We did see some older trees, true marvels of survival. David suggested they had been too badly burned for the loggers to risk cutting them down. These older trees were charred into their cores, yet still supported luxurious growth up high. My photos could not show both the burned base and healthy canopy in one picture. The trees were too wide & dark at the base, too tall & bright at the top.

Many old stumps in Fern Canyon, Russian Gulch State Park, are “nursery” trees, supporting new life. A few had large trees well established on them, not usually redwoods, though. Hmm.

Our entire route was beautiful as we drove the back roads across the Coast Range up to Fort Bragg, then down to Point Reyes, and back to Sacramento.

California is suffering through a desperate drought, of course. There was smoke in the air and dead or dying trees everywhere. Ah, but the sunshine–even the coast was sunny, hallelujah! David and I talked and talked, as we usually do on long drives. What a renewing, re-bonding experience for our relationship.

Fires and drought, smoke and dead trees, burned-to-the-core redwoods that yet thrive, places that I have not seen in a quarter century or more—there were so many references to the past and death and Dad and life going on anyway.

Dad’s four children, with two spouses and one grandchild, gathered to send his ashes off to rejoin his parents’ at one of his family’s favorite places. We all enjoyed a lovely walk over a coastal hill to a bluff at the seeming edge of the world. The wind was wild out there, apparently as usual, judging by the almost barren landscape, and we could see no California poppies to mark the right spot. However, we did see a small, pretty, protected dip in the bluff, where a couple of ice plants were in bloom. Perfect!

We lined up on the little path through the hollow and tried to distribute Dad’s ashes close to the ground, so they would not blow out to sea. Then we opened the picnic package and carefully poured orange juice into tightly-held cups, adding a little vodka to some. (Dad loved his evening “Screw-driver” at special events.)

Here’s to you, Dad, thanks for being our father and dear, devoted dad!

I added another toast to Mom and Matt’s wife, Mary, assuming they were there in spirit with Dad, helping us commemorate him.

It was a beautiful and bittersweet afternoon. Smiles and tears decorated our faces. Conversation was quieter on the way back to the car.

Dad’s will is done.

This immense eucalyptus tree is outside the front gate of Fort Ross. Left to right: Kathy & Kevin, David, Geoff, and me. Matt and Laurel had gone home, since school started the next day. We missed them.