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.

The ocean holds our itinerary. We can’t out hike her tides, and along this northern California coast, that means long hours of leisure between miles of no-go zones. Some of these zones stretch a 4 rocky miles, miles that are under water all but 5 or 6 hours a day. So we wait. We snack and nap and watch the sea lions and elephant seals play king of the mountain.

Speaking of elephant seals, I was walking the trail by the Punta Gorda Lighthouse when I had to stop and decide if the large lump ahead of me on the trail was a log, rock, or 4,000 pound elephant seal. When I realized it was a seal, Lace and I tiptoed onto the beach to avoid its slumber (they can be agressive…but we aren’t quite sure what that could look like) only to find more lumps of seal lazing about on the sand. We threaded the needle, tiptoeing between them, and passed by without incident. It was pretty cool.

But I haven’t told you how we got here… this morning, we woke up in the Shelter Cove campground, a bit bleary-eyed from the constant bouey echos just off shore, then packed up and drove to Black Sands Trailhead to meet our shuttle bus. Eight other hikers materialized with packs and poles, and at 7am sharp, we gathered for the safety talk, which included warnings about tides, pinch points, poison oak, and elephant seals. Then, to the bus for two hours of gut flipping mountain roads. We climbed and descended ridges and peaks, and I marveled at the houses we passed, perched on the steep sides. Our driver was full of interesting info…like the fact that this part of Humbolt County made a name for the California weed industry. It was so remote that folks could grow here back in the day, and law enforcement usually wouldn’t bother with them. Now that the drug is legal, the ease with which others can grow in the valley compared to the effort it takes to run a grow operation up here has cut into their hold on the market, so the plant has to lean on its brand of “original Humboldt County weed.”

We finally arrived at our northern terminous, Mattole Trailhead, without anyone puking, and gratefully piled out. Packs on, we took our start photos and headed into the dunes. The first few miles, we walked in deep sand amid grasses clinging to the slopes, and we all put on layers to manage the cool California fog.

We decided that you can add “California” in front of most items to get the accurate nomenclature out here. Like California poppy, California pelican, and California sparrow. Lace is quite the interptive ranger and regales us with bird IDs using the Merlin app. Flowers carpet the slopes above the sand; most of the beautiful yellow splashes of color are courtesy of bountiful dandelions. California dandelions? We decide these flowers have gotten a bad rap from the roundup folks… Have they been demonized as yard weeds simply so this conglomerate can sell us poison? Dandelions are a food source! How can something beneficial be a weed?

Back to the walking. The walking was a bit arduous in the deep sand, but walking above on the grassy slopes was hard too…the poison oak is sneaky in the area, it carpets the ground and also uses the surrounding vegetation as a ladder and can get quite tall. It’s practly everywhere, so I choose to walk the beach more often than not.

The sand, though. I dump it out of my socks and shoes and lament that I didn’t bring gaiters to keep the grains out. Lace’s technique involves a bandana tied around each ankle, but success is mixed.

After only 4.9 miles, we make it to the next tidal zone, and it’s too late in the day to scoot ourselves through the four-mile beach. It’s almost covered in water, and will be until 5am tomorrow. So we make camp on a tilted perch 200 feet above the ocean and next to a little shady oasis of a creek. Thank goodness for the creek because there is no shade to be found at camp, and we pass long afternoon hours by the water and Lace even busts out a gormet happy hour spread with six kinds of cheeses. Cindy and I provided the wine, and we feasted like queens amid the poison oak.

Numerous groups hiked up and past and are all crowded into a few camp spots around the corner from us. We were a bubble of hikers that would most likely be leapfrogging each other the rest of the way as we timed our walk to the sea.

Most impressive was a family of five with three young ladies. I love to see it.

When the sun finally went down, we retreated to our tents for the night, lulled to sleep by the groans and honks of the seals.

Time to go hiking. Next up: California.

Cindy, my road trip partner from the April eclipse and Big Bend hike arrived in town this morning after a very early drive from Portland, and Lace, a friend and former work colleague, came from a few neighborhoods over. The three of us piled backpacks, car snacks, and selves into Cindy’s Corola, and we were off for a tide-driven walk along the northern California coast.

Have you heard of the Lost Coast Trail? Lost is accurate, for a large percentage of the hike is under water due to tides, and hikers must plan their walks along long stretches of narrow beach carefully. Very carefully. On this trip, we would have the added gauntlet of breeding elephant seals. Really! An alert had been sent out warning us of these massive creatures and their anger. Added to the normal challenges of deep sand walking, wet rock hopping, poison oak laden trails around pinch points, and those short tide windows, and we were looking at an exercise in scheduling for this 25-mile hike.

I know! 25 miles isn’t a lot! But it will take us almost three days to put the puzzle pieces of challenges together. Let’s go!

Not long after driving into California, we popped out at the coast in Crescent City. This was the Cresent City of the Bigfoot Trail, the western terminus that is. The Bigfoot Trail is one of my trail clients this year…their 360-mile trail through 7 wilderness areas in the rugged Klamath Mountains wanted some help, so I did a through analysis of their trail materials and surveyed many of their stakeholder groups to produce a 40-page report of findings and recommendations for how they can shore things up and meet their goals. Great fun! This is what I want to do for all trails! The next step will be helping them implement some of those suggestions if we can find funding…I’m figuring out the whole business of trails things. It’s exciting, and I’ve taken the attitude of learning-by-doing.

The learning-by-doing nature of the Loast Coast Trail will include short stretches of hiking and long stretches of hanging out, looking at the high tide, and snacking. It’s very hikertrash of me to be thinking about the snacks on this short hike, but hey… you can take the hiker off the trail, but you can’t take the hikertrash out of the hiker.

We arrived at Shelter Cove, where we would meet our shuttle driver in the morning, and set up our tents at the campground perched near the sea. Next, dinner. We made our way over to the nearby pub for beers and dinner. Shelter Cove is a bit of a misnomer. By looking at a map, it seemed neither sheltered nor a cove…at least where the campground was. In fact, a post dinner hike revealed many houses too close to the ocean that I feared for their future in rising seas. But today the cliffs held and we luxuriate in a glorious sunset….the first of the trip!

Bedtime to the roiling sound of the sea.

P.S. There is indeed a cove at Shelter Cove, south of the campground. The maps are right 😄

It was another cold lazy morning, meaning we didn’t emerge until there was sunlight light on our tents. I guess we’ve been lucky because some parts of this deep canyon don’t get sun until late in the morning.

Our first mile and a half went straight up and out of the canyon and my legs wanted to have at it, so I let them fly and we topped out the 1,000′ climb at a steady 3mph pace. I was feeling strong and fabulous 💃

The rest of the miles back to the car were mellow, and of course they seemed longer than we wanted them to be. After a quick lunch break where I enjoyed another of my tuna packets in half of a pepper (delicious!) the terrain changed from the quiet ponderosa pine forest to more of a scrubby hot desert where we saw cholla for the first time. Big cholla!

The miles stretched and expanded and with every thought of being done and enjoying a cold drink in the shade, the trail stretched out a little longer. Ooofta.

Finally we saw evidence of civilization and emerged at a trailhead a short while later.

At the car we took out my camp chairs, took off our shoes, and dug beers from the cooler. Even though the ice had melted, they were cold enough. Done!

But not done, I had made a reservation at the Gila Hot Springs, and on the way we stopped in Doc Campbell’s again and visited with the owner Kristy who would be participating in my presentation at Trail Days soon. We bought chips and sausages for camp, and made our way down a dusty road to our campsite.

Soaking helped set the miles we had just hiked, and the rest of the afternoon we chatted with our neighbors and let the warm waters work their magic.

Time for CDT Days!