The night was mild and we slept hard.

After sufficient coffee and food, we broke camp and entered poison oak ally. In short stints today, we would have to push through thigh-high bushes of danger and we tried to remind ourselves again and again to not touch our pants or our faces. You have never wanted to touch your face more than when you can’t.

On the beach, we had a 4-mile low tide zone, or to be more accurate, a below 3-feet tide zone. The planning materials for the Lost Coast Trail gave a helpful hiking window tied to the tidal schedule each day, so essentially, we had until about noon to hike this section. Not all days are created equal, though, and other days, the hike window is shorter or at inopportune times. These few days lined up perfectly.

We had a buffet of surfaces today…the next up were basketball sized rocks covering the beach. Most were fairly stable, but a few would rock and roll when you stepped on them.

Then more sand. The walking was firmest in the wet sand close to the waves, but you had to be careful to avoid getting caught in those sneaky ones. All in all, it was a pleasant morning, and soon we were out of the danger zone and snacking in the sun.

The weather has just been perfect. Sunny, mild, a bit foggy and humid, but not oppressively so. We were all getting a healthy dose of vitamin D, but like the responsible mid-40s women we were, wore sunshirts and sunscreen.

The next stretch was primarily on grassy bluffs above the sand where the walking was firm and fast. We cruised past a number of private cabins, and one even had their own airstrip. A flight in might be the easiest access, oh sure, there were trails that plunged off the steep mountains, providing access from the top, but as one guidebook explained, one of the trails out here has 2,000′ of elevation change in 1 mile, making it one of the steepest trails in the state. Ooffta. Now I know why it’s called the Lost Coast. Many don’t want to make the journey, either by carefully planning the tide tables as we are doing or dropping down a steep poison oak laden slope.

We lunched with a view and continued on.

Here is something interesting I had never done before on a hike: instead of walking inland away from the beach to dig a cat hole, we were instructed to dig our holes in the sand below where the next high tide would wash it away. Poor fish.

Camp was a big wide flat called Big Flat. We crossed the Flat River to find a charming camp nestled in the trees. We had shade, driftwood benches, and plenty of soft sand to make our nests for the night.

We had another happy hour spread with a bit more cheese, fruit, chocolate, and crackers that we had squirreled away, and lazed about reading and napping until it was time to make dinner and watch the sun set.

The hike would be done tomorrow, but in spite of the short miles, the trip felt immersive and all-encompassing. Maybe it was the sea, constantly reminding us of a force larger than ourselves, a timeline where we were only a grain of sand in the expanse of everything. Regardless, it has been a wonderful hike, and our group of three travels well together.