Grove of Titans.

There's no words that can really explain how big these trees are. Certainly no photos. I tried and tried and nothing came out. Even if I had the fanciest camera that I don't know how to use, you can only see how big they are with your eyes. It does not compute.


These are the biggest trees there are. They are 2000 years old. Two thousand years old. TWO THOUSAND YEARS OLD. That would be like happy birthday baby Jesus and happy birthday to these trees. Which are still standing there, standing up strong. Fifty years old is one tiny little drop in a muck bucket compared to those trees. Fifty? Maybe the age of that flutey little branch over there. A sapling. Two thousand is solid.


30 feet in diameter. Take 10 giant steps down your driveway. That is how wide Screaming Titan is. Really big steps. Look back. The tree is that wide. And higher than 300 feet tall. Way higher. Maybe 350. That's maybe a 30 story building. Go look outside and up next time you're in a downtown. That's higher than you think. The highest volume of wood. What's their volume? I don't mothertrucking know. Take 100 godzillas and shove them into a coffin made out of one of the grand old office buildings in downtown LA, zipped up by fire escapes threaded down it's side. Throw it out to sea and see how big it splashes. Tsunami. Evacuate immediately. Move to higher ground. That's their volume.


The Titans are secret, but not so secret. If you work a little bit, you can find them. We had research and maps and a detective notebook. We took some wrong turns. We may have had dogs with us more interested in finding the creek than the trees. It may have been very early o'clock, as early as donuts in the dark. We tried to be gentle on the land but every footstep that goes in there disturbs some land. Redwood roots are shallow. Tread lightly if you go find them yourself.


We passed a group of tourists on the trail when we hiked out. They were carrying tote bags and paired off in twos, and they didn't know what was in there, in that grove. There's a lot of groovy trees everywhere, so it's not like you're not getting a good slap of majestic nature just walking down the main trail. But we saw them walking right past the path to the grove and they had no idea. We didn't say anything. I don't think that was wrong or cruel. I think it was correct.


There's a lot of things you can do with your time. Go to work. Do some dog agility. Pick some beets. Try to figure out the sales tax. Sweep the floor. Everybody has their things. You could also go find the Grove. Walk in. Walk around. Hang out with the trees. Pretend they're your friends. And then say goodbye and hope they're fine, hope they're ok, til next you see them again.