Redwood Park

You arrive under a cathedral of towering dawn redwoods — trunks the size of small houses, light filtering through high needles. Trails are short and forgiving, perfect for toddlers, strollers and anyone in need of a slow, green reset. The park wears a playful side: a fairy village tucked among roots, a wheelchair‑accessible treehouse and sheltered picnic areas that make sudden showers irrelevant. Locals treat it like a living backyard — dog walkers, families on long afternoons, and the occasional intimate outdoor wedding beneath the giants. Heritage plaques hint at a deeper story; this is community land that doubled as an arboreal museum. There are muddy patches after rain and honest, aging washrooms, which somehow adds to the place’s lived‑in charm. For visitors from the city it reads like a gentle surprise — a patch of old‑growth drama without the crowds, where you can disappear into shade and leave the car behind for a few hours.