Adventures in LOGLAND

First things first, I figured. And so last month, on my first journey to California’s redwood country, I steered my rental car toward the Avenue of the Giants. The trees got taller, the air cooler, the wind gentler. The trails were green and shady, with drivers, hikers and cyclists lingering at the roadside.

“We’re on 4,717 miles right now,” said one of the cyclists, 19-year-old Mike Farina. He and his buddy, Kip Beckford, who began in Boston, had just pedaled through the prime roadside attraction of Myers Flat, a 275-foot-high drive-through tree that’s been in business since the 1930s.

Now Farina cast his glance up to the forest canopy of high branches. All around us, redwoods older than Strom Thurmond towered 30 stories into a barely visible sky.

“Thought we’d see the country by bike. Thought it’d be cool,” said Farina dreamily. “Sure enough.”

Just as a river is likely to run through any adventure in Montana, you can bet that this territory’s ancient redwoods will tower over any trip to the northwestern corner of California. And just as the path to Oz was lined with yellow bricks, the main roads of Humboldt County are dusted with a reddish seasoning--redwood chips, left by the trucks that drag lumber to and from the mill. This, to borrow a word from hiking columnist John McKinney, is Logland. (McKinney classifies the rest of the state as either Smogland or Fogland. Who can argue?)

I liked the idea of time amid trees. But I also wondered what a stranger finds beyond the forest and the trees. So I caught connecting flights into the Arcata-Eureka airport, about 270 miles north of San Francisco, and invested four summer days in the exploration of Humboldt County and its inland neighbor, Trinity County.

To make the acquaintance of the trees, I prowled Humboldt Redwoods State Park (which includes the 31-mile Avenue of the Giants), passed a morning in the loggers’ company town of Scotia, and meandered through the 575 acres of Arcata’s Redwood Park and community forest, which are next to the campus of Humboldt State University. Given more tree time, I’d next have headed north to Patrick’s Point State Park, Redwood National Park and the neighboring Prairie Creek State Park. But there was plenty to do outside the forest. Call these the Logland variations:

In Ferndale, I curled up inside an orange and yellow concoction of Victorian gingerbread. On California 299, I followed the bends, roars and trickles of the Trinity River. In the handsome little town of Weaverville, Chinese prospectors left behind a Taoist temple. In Arcata, there was the 18-year-old hippie who’d scored some bad . . . well, that’s getting ahead of myself.

Except for one night at the Eureka Inn (great public spaces; great jazz in the lounge; guest rooms in need of updating) and a bit of prowling through Arcata’s forest and plaza, I neglected the two biggest cities in Humboldt County, which neighbor each other on Humboldt Bay. There were too many smaller towns and too much countryside to be surveyed--about 400 miles of driving, all told.

I did most of it on U.S. 101, bearing south as far as Myers Flat and north as far as Trinidad, and on Highway 299, which winds through hills and mountains to connect the coastal communities with Weaverville, about 110 miles inland, and Redding, the biggest city in northern California, about 50 miles farther.

I spent the first night in Ferndale, which over the last 30 years has rebuilt itself from a dying hamlet five miles off the main highway to a showplace of Victorian architecture. It reveals no signs now of the damage done to dozens of homes and businesses by a 1992 earthquake, but the town is still slight: It amounts to a Main Street commercial district of about four blocks, a few side avenues, some topiary trees that seem to have sprung straight from “Alice in Wonderland,” a bevy of tourist-targeted shops (Etter’s Victorian Glass, Aunt Jane’s Collectibles, Blackberry Hill Folk Art, etc.) and an intriguing hillside cemetery. Downtown can be nearly as still as the cemetery at 8 p.m. on a Tuesday.

But the vintage of the buildings, and their lively hues, are likely to draw you in--even if, like me, you’re allergic to the scent of potpourri, the sight of frilly curtains and the prospect of dolls arranged on shelves.

I spent the night at the Gingerbread Mansion, an 1899 marvel in yellow and orange that is the town’s most famous building. Next to a small but elaborate garden, the inn features painstaking detail work, 11 rooms and stiff prices. (This year’s brochure rates begin at $140 per night, but by walking in alone on a weekday evening and haggling just a little over the last unrented room, I shaved $40 off that figure.)

My reward was Zipporah’s room, a blue sanctuary near the rear of the house. There were no dolls and no potpourri, but there was wallpaper on the ceiling, inlaid woodwork in the armoire, and eggs Florentine the next morning at breakfast.

Southeast of Ferndale, but north of the Avenue of the Giants, lies the odd little settlement of Scotia, whose 1,200 residents work and dwell in one of the last company-owned towns in the U.S. The company, Pacific Lumber, runs a modest museum; offers free, self-guided weekday mill tours from 7:30 a.m. to 2 p.m.; and, in a bid to blunt conservationists’ complaints, maintains displays to stress its efforts to restock fish populations and regrow forests. There are 272 houses in town. There’s also a hairstylist, movie house, grocery, pharmacy, antique shop (where I bought a couple of garishly colored old postcards for $7) and the Scotia Inn, a historic lodging with 15 rooms (although several were closed for renovations during my visit), its own restaurant and bar, and reasonable prices.

The road between the coast and Weaverville, known as 299 or the Trinity River Scenic Byway, was a highlight on its own.

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For most of the way from Willow Creek to Weaverville, 299 follows the Trinity River, with frequent turnouts, roadside markets and water sports outfitters along the way. Stopping two or three times (who could resist a cool drink from the Burnt Ranch Market?), I saw rafters, kayakers, fishermen and the Aslin family from nearby Big Bar.

While Jason and Gloria Aslin and their 6-week-old, Julia, looked on from the shallows, 11-year-old Rion and 8-year-old Lauren took turns leaping from a big rock into the cool, clear water. Watching them, I was almost persuaded to delay my return flight and book a float trip instead.

Weaverville itself was a pleasant surprise too. It marked my farthest progress inland--the town is much nearer to Redding than to the coast and belongs to Trinity County, not Humboldt--but it made an ideal turnaround point.

In addition to an old-fashioned Main Street with a pair of unusual spiral staircases rising from the sidewalk to second-story storefronts, Weaverville holds about 3,000 people and a personality that seems part arty, part timber town.

The arty part turns up at a handful of Main Street galleries like the Highland Art Center and the Watson Art Studio, where a pair of deer lately have taken to loitering in the garden. The small timber-town feel deepens when you walk past the Crossfire Ministry building and hear a teenage garage band harmonizing on a bit of Christian rock (“No more sickness, no more injustice . . . “), or you step up beneath the old-fashioned Weaverville Hotel sign and find that the front desk is actually the cash register of the sporting goods store downstairs. A few doors down stands the Weaverville Drug Store, founded in 1852, which claims to be the oldest continuously operating pharmacy in the state.

The town’s wild card is Weaverville Joss House State Historic Park, which preserves an 1874 Taoist temple built by Chinese prospectors--the oldest functioning Taoist temple in the state. Virtually all other signs of the once-substantial Chinese community burned in a 1911 fire, and none of the old Chinese families are still in town, but inside the temple, park rangers have preserved a calming retreat of several altars outfitted with embroidery, elaborate woodwork, peacock feathers and calligraphy. The adjacent room, a spartan caretaker’s residence unoccupied for more than 40 years, looks as if the resident just went out for a smoke.

I ate two meals in town: a pleasant outdoor lunch at the Garden Cafe (where salads come in eight permutations and Austrian strudel and quiche are found alongside breakfast burritos and turkey sandwiches), and a top-notch dinner at La Grange Cafe, where the menu included wild boar sausage, duck breast and buffalo burger.

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Sophisticated menus notwithstanding, Weaverville will not be confused with Carmel. Logging machinery drones at one edge of town, vendors at the weekly farmers’ market take food stamps, and The Diggin’s Tavern had at least two customers bellied up to the bar at 7 a.m. on the Thursday morning I peeked in. But does Carmel have a Red Hill Motel/Cabins, just off Main Street, offering woodsy, spotless rooms, some with kitchens, for $35-$50 nightly? Weaverville does. (And about 20 miles east of town lies 25-mile-long Trinity Lake and various woodsy resorts and water sports operations.)

There was still time for a bit of coastal exploration before my flight home, so I looked quickly at Arcata and, farther north, Trinidad.

I had expected to like Arcata. Its collegiate atmosphere, countercultural leanings and scattered Victorians sounded interesting, and its site between bay and redwoods is hard to beat. I parked late one afternoon at the town’s central plaza, a handsome grassy rectangle surrounded by scenic old buildings and businesses: Moonrise Herbs. Peoples Records. The Alibi. On the plaza grass, youths tuned guitars, played Hacky Sack and bummed cigarettes. Facing the grass stood the old Hotel Arcata (established 1915, weeknight rates about $60, rooms tired, off-street parking nonexistent).

I struck off to walk a little and take a few photos, but I’d only gotten a few steps when the begging began. Most of the beggars seemed about 20 years old, physically fit, apparently sane and deeply languorous. About this time, Jason, age 18, called me over to his bench and demanded that I look at the packet of oatmeal in his hand. Some youth from town had left it with other food as a donation, which was apparently the usual way Jason got his food. But inside the packet, instead of the usual Quaker Oats flakes, lay dark brown grit. Something like fertilizer. The date on the packet said 1991. Jason was outraged, although not certain whom to be outraged at, and demanded I photograph the oatmeal. So I did.

I was still contemplating all this a few moments later when a young woman of the plaza, about 20, called out to me pleasantly from across the street.

“Hey, camera man! Have you got a cigarette? No? Any spare change? No? How about a condom?”

I could not help. And I could not help wondering: Did I catch downtown Arcata on the wrong day, or did it catch me on the wrong day?

The last stop was Trinidad, a fetching little waterfront town with several bed-and-breakfasts, two old lighthouses, a rickety stairway down to a rocky beach, and a spectacular view of the roiling coastline to the south. The proprietress of the splendidly located Trinidad Bay Bed & Breakfast declined to let me see a room, or even a picture of a room, saying that thanks to her prime view location and handsome house, she was full. Not surprising, really--Trinidad looked like a great place to spend a night or two. Next time.

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GUIDEBOOK

In Big Tree Country

Getting there: United Airlines connects daily from LAX via San Francisco or Sacramento to the Arcata-Eureka Airport. Restricted round-trip fares begin at $139. United also connects to Arcata-Eureka via San Francisco from Burbank; restricted fares begin at $136.

Where to stay: Gingerbread Mansion, 400 Berding St., Ferndale; telephone (800) 952-4136 or (707) 786-4000. Eleven rooms, elaborately furnished. Brochure rates for two people $140-$350.

Red Hill Motel/Cabins, P.O. Box 234, Weaverville; tel. (530) 623-4331, fax (530) 623-4341. A woodsy motor court with 14 rooms at $35-$55 for two people; one cabin at $75 nightly.

Scotia Inn, 100 Main St., Scotia; tel. (707) 764-5683, fax (707) 764-1707. Fifteen rooms, rates $65-$150.

Eureka Inn, 518 7th St., Eureka; tel. (800) 862-4906 or (707) 442-6441, fax (707) 442-0637. A Tudor-style grand hotel that dates to 1922, with two restaurants, swimming pool. Brochure rates $110-$170; discounts for AAA members and corporate travelers.

Where to eat: Curley’s Grill, 460 Main St., Ferndale; tel. (707) 786-9696. Dinner main courses $11.95-$17.95.

La Grange Cafe, 315 N. Main St., Weaverville; tel. (530) 623-5325. Nouveau European-American menu. Dinner main courses $8.50-$17.95.

Garden Cafe, 252 Main St., Weaverville; tel. (530) 623-2058. Serves breakfast and lunch every day, dinners on Fridays and Saturdays. Everything on the lunch menu runs $6.95 or less.

For more information: California Division of Tourism, 801 K St., Suite 1600, Sacramento, CA 95814; tel. (800) 862-2543 or (916) 322-2881, fax (916) 322-3402; Internet https://gocalif.ca.gov.