We were on the road at last. Coffee and breakfast in hand, we set out on an adventure. I'd wanted to go see Cathedral Grove for a long time, but when I learned the trees could communicate, I was eager to find out what these ancient ones would say. It wasn't the adventure I thought it would be, but the trees did have something to say.
I was glad we got there fairly early. Cathedral Grove is a well-known tourist spot and even at 9:30 am the parking lots were just about full on both sides of the highway. I wasn't prepared for the amount of people talking, laughing, jostling and doing people things.
My first impression of the forest was sadness, but it was sadness on my part, not the trees. There were signs of growth and life such as groupings of Mother tree and offspring close by. The tree in the photo above had joined together. Two different trees supported each other and together they stood straight and tall. That didn't speak of sadness.
The trees certainly revealed their personalities. I loved the stump that looked like a free spirit with a huge attitude. Love the hair!
"Cool dude"
I started to notice beauty in the small things. A root system made an interesting pattern in the ground near a creek. Patterns in bark which had been weathered and probably eaten by insects of some sort were so intricate and beautiful. (See INSTAGRAM or FB posts, Sept. 24, 25.)
There were also nodes that looked like above ground burls next to large trees. These nodes were being kept alive by the large tree's root system. The one below was the largest one I saw of these nodes. I couldn't help thinking I was in some sort of avant-garde art gallery staring at a sculpture. I could see the torso, head, massive arms and legs.
"Tree Sculpture"
I did find one tree that I thought looked like it might want to say something, but all I heard was "Wait, what!" followed by a kind of invisible spray that hit me in the face making me feel quite dizzy and off-balance. Was the tree protecting itself? I read a book by Peter Wohlleben called The Hidden Life of Tress (Chapter 2) and was surprised to learn that trees can send a warning 'gas' to neighboring trees when threatened. That warning gas is ethylene. Exposure to ethylene can cause headache, dizziness, fatigue, lightheadedness, confusion and unconsciousness. Peter had been talking about acacia trees and the threat were giraffes eating their leaves, but perhaps other trees do that, too?
After wandering through both sides of the park, I hadn't seen the oldest trees and couldn't seem to find them either. I was tired. I'd been tree sprayed and dodged a large group of people who was led by a chatty guide. I'd hurried to get away from a couple of people who were enjoying themselves very loudly. I envied one person who'd found a quiet spot underneath a tree to sit and write.
I think I figured out what made me sad. I didn't feel that sense of sacred sanctuary I'd expected to find there. Perhaps I was expecting to see trees like the grandfather trees in my visions who had presence, dignity and that sacredness. All I saw were very tall trees with massive trunks and trees that had fallen and were now nurseries for seedling trees.
No matter how hard I tried, I couldn't shut out the people and car noises. It felt like I'd been cut off and disconnected like the tree that was cut to make room for the path in the next picture. The fallen log captured what I was sensing. The trees I know are loving in their tree ways and I couldn't sense anything from these trees. Had their loving energy in this forest been cut off, too?
"Cut off in the middle"
The forest seemed strange. The smell was different and I expected a lot more moisture in the air. It was dry, way too dry. I didn't hear one bird or any other wildlife either. The only forest sound I heard was a brittle creak somewhere high up in the canopy.
The picture below looked like the younger trees were reaching out with their branches to each other just like the stumps covered in moss looked like they had been reaching out at one time.
"Reaching Out"
There also seemed to be too much light at the forest floor level. I'd been in many forests throughout my life and they were always darker, more humid and smelled like evergreen trees and pure oxygen. This forest didn't. Was this the effect of climate change, of the earth's temperature getting hotter? Or was it the effect of so many people tramping through with their noises, smells, shoes, and boots? Was there logging around the park that affected the trees in the park?
I had to conclude I didn't have the experience I expected, in part, because it was difficult for me to get into a state of awareness and inner intention. I decided to take a selfie. There was a massive exposed tree root with earth, ferns and roots mixed together. It seemed like it would make a good back drop. I'm 5ft. 8in. tall and the root system towered over my head. I look weary, a little sad, and not all that enthused. That's exactly what my experience was.
 "Weary"
We left the grove and headed into Port Alberni for some lunch and finally found a fish and chip place and a spot to eat it overlooking the ocean. It was soothing to sit and watch it while we ate our meal. I loved spending the day with my partner and it was good to be able to just relax and have a day by ourselves.
Final thoughts? Expectations! What we want to see is not always what we will see and looking forward to some sort of experience doesn't always allow for what's possible. Being attached to an outcome isn't what an adventure is, either. Not getting into a meditative state to see if the trees wanted to talk wasn't the cars nor the people's fault. I'm quite capable of being in a meditative state with people around me. I do it everyday. No, my expectations got in the way. The trees did communicate with me directly in the face and in their silence.
One can't walk through this forest and not be humbled by their size and age. Immersing oneself in the biome of the forest is usually uplifting and grounding but these are different times. I wrote about seeing a pigeon and a crow sitting together in a tree. (Thoughts on the Pigeon and the Crow, Sept. 12, 2024) Today I saw bald eagles and turkey vultures sharing the same tree.
At Cathedral Grove, I saw the dry ground and the low water level in the creek and didn't hear any birds or wildlife. I couldn't help thinking that this forest is showing us that time is running out to return their home and our planet to a vibrant eco system. Once again, nature seems to be changing and showing us the way forward. Are we listening?
Comments