Parkway closed to cars, perfect for bikes

Adam Spencer gets off his bicycle and climbs aboard one of the fallen redwoods that forced the closure of Newton B. Drury Parkway to motorized vehicles. Submitted

When I heard the parkway was closed to motor vehicle traffic due to fallen old-growth redwoods, opportunity called again. I prepared my bike for a remarkable ride and recruited a fellow cyclist.

Park officials are saying the parkway will be closed to cars — and thus a bicycling paradise — for at least two more weeks.

On Sunday we parked at the Prairie Creek Visitor Center at the south entrance of the parkway. That’s about 11 miles past the north entrance, which is 32 miles from Crescent City. We topped off tire pressure and water bottles, then hit the road.

There’s nothing like scattered beams of sunlight piercing through the redwoods on a crisp, fall day. The weather was sunny but cool — perfect for a ride.

At first, we naturally stayed to the right side of the road. But after reminding ourselves no cars were coming, we swerved side to side, enjoying the open road. We passed pedestrians also relishing the car-free parkway.

“No cars! No cars!” they yelled.

We quickly recognized the ascent traveling north. The hills aren’t steep enough to sweat or huff and puff, but the climb called for stretches of peddling in granny gear.

Six miles in, we reached the point where two old-growth redwoods and two Douglas firs recently draped the road, marked by a thin, red layer of tree shavings. I was surprised to see the road already cleared, but evidence remained: a 15-foot-wide, semi-crater in the road from the impact, a large swath of uprooted soil where the trees originally stood, and huge redwood trunks on the side of the road yet to be hauled away.

We imagined how the redwoods fell and took the Douglas firs with them. Redwood root systems only run 10 to 12 feet deep, even on 300-foot trees. The roots spread laterally, however, for hundreds of feet, interlocking with other trees’ roots. When they fall, neighbors come with.

My biggest question was, “How did they get rid of those massive trees?”

Later, I found out that wide holes were drilled to lay more than 30 pounds of dynamite to split apart the largest trunk, and then bulldozers and excavators pushed debris off the road or loaded it on trucks. Large sections were hauled away to be used for future parks projects, said Peter Monahan, park maintenance supervisor.

You can watch a summary of the process at youtube.com/watch?v=SUf6Ong_VQ4. The tree is blown up at 2:58. It’s worth the wait.

After thoroughly exploring the fall zone, we started biking back toward our car. We could have gone another two miles north to cruise the entire parkway, but we’d had our fill.

The decline proved more rewarding than the incline was punishing. Rolling downhill, it was much easier to soak in the scenery of old-growth redwood hillsides, even at top speed.

You experience places differently on a bike, more in tune with your surroundings. Other bike-accessible, old-growth redwood trails demand a mountain bike or a fearless attitude toward highway traffic. This peaceful tour combines  the pleasure of easy riding with awe-inspiring beauty of old-growth stands.

Those only interested in the downhill ride could take two cars, park one at the south entrance, then depart from the north entrance. Don’t forget two bike racks.

In the past, the North Coast Redwood Interpretative Association sponsored a “discovery ride,” where the parkway was closed to car traffic for a day once a year, and a group of cyclists toured the parkway.   Transitions in the parks system prevented this year’s ride, but it seems that fallen redwoods kept the tradition alive.