A Morning in Muir Woods

If calmness and serenity are important, I don't recommend visiting Muir Woods National Monument on a weekend. Parking is competitive, despite mandatory paid reservations. The entrance can be a clusterf*ck because of construction and because everyone wants photos in front of the iconic sign. Walkways are often congested because, of course, people need to stop to take more photos -- of them, not the redwoods. That said, if you like moody shots, this is an excellent venue.

This is an excellent place if you live or visit the Bay Area. It just took me weeks to realize it.

We arrived on a Saturday morning in mid-October, falsely believing that an annular solar eclipse might reduce car and crowd counts. But this is San Francisco: No one could see the sun -- let alone it being partially blocked by the moon -- through a thicket of fog. And fall is an excellent time to commune with California redwoods, so say the swarms that joined us.

One reason Muir Woods is so popular, aside from the obvious natural attractions, is because it's also accessible. It's about a 20-minute drive from the freeway along curvy roads carrying cars and shuttles. The main trail is paved to accommodate strollers and wheelchairs. And, as a national park, it's inexpensive or even free for some.

Also going for it: no WiFi. No people talking on their phones. No hassles maneuvering around influencers doing live streams. This ancient forest doesn't care that you can't get text messages or check social media. It's begging for you to pay attention to your surroundings. (And not just because you also can't access online maps to figure out where you're going.)

Last summer we visited the mighty giants of the Sierras. Sequoias are bulkier and shorter than the coast redwoods that comprise Muir Woods. As such, coast redwoods are considered the tallest living trees on Earth; giant sequoias, the largest.

You can spend hours walking the trails, some of which connect with the Mount Tamalpais State Park trail system. Our party of 12 included three small children, one teenager, six millennials, and two seniors. We stayed on the main path, also known as Redwood Creek Trail. The creek itself was low on water due to the aforementioned construction disrupting its flow. Picturesque bridges connect that path with the narrower, dirt Bohemian Grove Trail on the other side of the creek.

We made it to Cathedral Grove, where those under 5 in our group refused to abide by the "Enter Quietly" sign. Had we continued, we would have looped back via the unpaved Hillside Trail or continued to the Bootjack or Fern Creek trails. We did make a pitstop at the cafe and gift shop to honor earlier bribes. ("Be good now and we'll get you something later.")

It took some coordination to make that morning happen. And as head of logistics, I found it impossible to stay in the moment. I was preoccupied with keeping kids on course, keeping everyone relatively together, steering the double stroller through tight passages, and letting smaller groups go around us as a toddler escaped over a short fence or his brother made a run for a protected area. Instead of considering everything the trees had survived, I worried how to get back to the 101 without GPS.

Ever since seeing the Planet of the Apes trilogy, I've wanted to experience Muir Woods. We debated if scenes from that movie were filmed here or Canada (bingo!) and how so few flicks are now shot at the actual location mentioned on screen. We got to our cars and I privately wondered if we'd ever come back, while outwardly I asked what everyone wanted to do about lunch.

Only weeks later, after returning to a world gone mad again, do I cast Muir Woods in a new light. Nearby San Francisco is suffering. The homeless ranks are growing and open-air drug use is ravaging communities. Residents are unable to sell or break expensive leases in this market, and goods and groceries are eating deeper into budgets due to inflation and greed. No wonder everyone heads to the woods on weekends.

Those people crowding the trail were just looking for a respite. They could have given us the evil eye when one of us yelled or ran off, but instead they offered sympathetic looks and a wider berth. Those groves were incredibly gracious too, absorbing all that human noise without so much as a shudder. I'm even starting to believe everyone else meant it when they said they had a good time.

Muir Woods is that rare gem, well known yet also well hidden. I'd like to think my grandsons will return with their own offspring decades from now and experience deja vu. That my nephew will remember the woodsy scents and not my constant nagging when his myotonic dystrophy begins to destroy him. The crowds and parking now seem minor inconveniences. Soon, they'll be forgotten entirely as scenes of family mayhem melt into warm memories.