If a tree falls in the woods ...

One of the most enjoyable things about hiking is the chance to see or hear things that you can't experience anyplace else.
Several years ago I spent Christmas Day hiking at Russian Gulch State Park, near Mendocino. My goal was a 35' waterfall at the end of a 2 1/2 mile trail along a small stream.
What makes this hike memorable isn't just that it was raining very hard that day. I had on my rain poncho and boots and carried an umbrella. (I don't use the umbrella while hiking, I only use it once my tripod is set up to take some pictures.) In addition to the rain it was windy, as demonstrated by the limbs of the trees towering above me. Hiking through this narrow canyon, the nearby cliffs and redwoods sheltered me somewhat from the wind.
The hike required traveling through a 15' portion of the trail that had been covered in a mudslide. I waded through, getting muddy up to my hips from slogging and slopping through the debris field. I figured I would be so soaked from the rain on the way back to the car that my pants would come clean(er), and I was right. It was one of those mudslides that wouldn't require rebuilding the trail in the spring, but it would require some shovels and lumber to reinforce the hillside.
On the return trip I heard a thunderous crack. It was probably the loudest sound I've ever heard, especially since the only other sound was the raindrops falling on the brim of my hat. I stopped and turned around to face the direction of the sound. I was puzzled at first, then quickly recognized the sound from the times I had stepped on small branches to crack them in two. It was the sound of a tree falling in the woods. A very large tree, probably one of the numerous redwoods in the park.
It seemed a second or two had passed when I heard a loud and painful groan, reminiscent of a rusty hinge but many times louder, that seemed to last several more seconds. My immediate thought was to start sprinting away from the noise, but since the trail was mostly mud and my boots were mostly water, I knew any attempt to run would probably result in slipping and falling on my butt. Come to think of it, my feet may have been paralyzed in awe.
I looked above me for signs of any trees moving but I didn't see any. I thought if I did see some movement and needed a quick exit, I could slip down off the trail towards the creek. That way, I wouldn't be the tallest thing in the fall zone. I know that's helpful in a lightning storm.
The groaning came to an end with a very loud thud that echoed through the canyon that I was hiking out of. I didn't see any dust, nor do I know if I would have had it not been raining.
Because I never saw any movement I can only assume the tree was some distance away. The acoustics of the canyon must have amplified the noise, making it seem as if it was playing out right before my ears.
Once I realized that I was not in danger of being squished by a 250' tall redwood, I sort of wanted to give myself a high five. Not that I had done anything noteworthy to avoid danger, but because of my dumb luck to be in the right place at the right time. My only regret was that I was hiking alone and had no one to share the experience with.
I made it back to the car, changed out of my soggy clothes, turned the heater on full blast and headed back home. I hope I have similar luck again someday. And maybe that time someone will be there to share the experience.