,Day 1
7 Hour Drive
7 Mile Hike
Leslie (my good friend and neighbor) and I left Taylor Way at 2 am sharp. We had a shuttle to catch at Shelter Cove with Bill at exactly 8 am. It was a five hour drive. If you do the math you’d see that we had more than enough time. The extra 50 miles we drove on I-5 wasn’t a consideration.
See….it was the middle of the night.
Google Maps inexplicably stopped speaking
Leslie and I were in deep semi-philosophical conversation.
And we missed our exit. By a lot. By 25 miles.
Leslie picked up the speed and actually made up for most of the extra 50 miles by getting us to the Trailhead at the unbelievable time of 7:30 am.
One other “couple” (later I would find out they were brother and sister) and a family of four (two teenagers) were already there waiting for the shuttle van. Bill got us loaded up and we started the two hour drive to the Mattole River Trailhead where we would start our hike.
The Lost Coast Trail is a 25 mile “trail” through the King Range National Conservation Area and offers one of the few coastal wilderness hiking experiences left on the US. Although the trail is relatively level, about 2/3 of the route is on the beach transversing gravel, cobbles and soft sand. It’s not an easy walk.
Bill started the drive talking a bit about the trail. But before any of us knew it, were driving at an unbelievable rate of speed. Taking turns that left passengers covering their eyes and shaking their heads.
About 15 minutes in, the tire pressure light came on. Bill and I were the only ones that noticed. He said nothing. I figured that maybe he knew that his sensor was faulty...I said nothing.
After an hour of white knuckle roller coaster riding, we stopped at Honeydew Creek Campground to stretch our legs and pee. It was immediately noticeable. The back right tire had a leak. And it was losing air fast. A sizable nail was stuck in the side wall. We all got back in the van quickly in a effort to drive the last hour before the tire went flat. Bill had now slowed down a bit and we drove for about 30 minutes before it was obvious that the tire was completely flat. Bill’s effort to make it to a pull out to change the tire was unsuccessful as we all heard and smelled the tire instantly shred.
We all unloaded and Bill announced he could get the tire changed in 12 minutes. To his credit, he had a new tire and rim on in about 15 and we were off again.
We arrived at Matole at about 10:20, unloaded and each group got going as they were ready. We said our goodbys to the brother/sister and to the family of four that we immediately named “La Familia.”
The first two miles of the trail wound through American dune grass where Jack rabbits and rattlesnakes make their homes. When the Coast Guard maintained the nearby Punta Gorda Light, a horse named Old Bill spent 30 years providing transport along this route.
We leapfrogged with the other groups here and there over the first few hours.
The trail emptied us out onto the beach. Rounding Punta Gorda (which we had to arrive at by a specific time to hit low tide) the Punta Gorda Lighthouse came into view. Here, low tide revealed tide pools and sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks. We stopped for a snack.
After about 2.5 more miles, we approached Sea Lion Gulch where the cliffs became too steep for the trail to continue. The trail descended through some tent sites perched high on the bluff where we had planned to stay but it was obvious that the best sites were taken and we would need to continue to Cooskie Creek for the night. The problem was, we couldn’t continue south for another 5ish hours when the tide would be low enough to get through the next section. The point we were at, marked the beginning of four miles of the trail that is impassible at high tide. In several places the cliffs are steep, and there would be no way to escape a surging tide.
After a few hours of relaxation, food and water, we dropped back down to the beach and started south again. In only about 35 minutes we were at our home for the night. And we had it all to ourselves.
Cooskie Creek is a steep green notch in the slope. In the creek, I spotted salmon and trout fry as they darted along the creek bed. High tide cuts Cooskie Creek campground off from Lost Coast Trail access on both the north and south sides. Watching the waves pound against the cliffs was amazing and gave us a remarkable sense of isolation. The map states, “It is perhaps the best taste of solitude the Lost Coast Trail can offer.”
Dinner, conversation, deer, sunset and finally sleep.
It was a terrific first day.
Day 2
10.7 mile hike
17.7 miles total
Woke up at about 5:30 am today. Finished the day before’s journal (since I was so tired the night before) and made some coffee. I ended up waking about 90 minutes before Leslie came out of his tent.
After making coffee and oatmeal, I wandered around a bit. There are some very nice campsites further up river and places to get in the creek. Hanging out on the ocean, I saw a few hikers pass by after getting an early start.
Once Leslie woke and ate, we packed up and headed south. Our goal today was Miller Flat, which groggy math the night before told us was a bit more than 8 miles walk.
The trail stayed on the bluff for a bit and then headed down to the beach. The beach was tough. Football sized rocks carpeted the beach which made travel slow and pounding. It took much longer to make the forward progress we had made earlier in the morning.
We stopped for lunch on a windy outcropping at Kinsey Creek. After lunch we continued to the beach where walking once again was a battle with the rocks.
About 15 minutes later I noticed a trail at an extremely steep grade that went up and to the left onto, what looked like, a long narrow sand dune. It looked like a sketchy first 10 feet and my feeling was that we should stay on the beach. When Leslie approached I showed him our choices. He immediately said “up.” He was done with rocks for now. So up we went.
The first 10 feet utilized a log, set up as a super steep ramp, to get up to the trail. I was surprised the ascent had been as doable as it turned out to be. But that’s where the “doable” got a bit sketchy.
The trail wound up and down through the sand and at times, against the ledge. This was a bit sketchy until we got to multiple sections of the entire face being nothing but sand. And then to parts that were so windy that the footsteps ahead where already refilled with blowing sand.
Let’s just say we had some pretty adrenaline filled moments.
Once through the worst of it, we hit some pretty large patches of poison oak. Bushes 6 feet in diameter and 4-5 feet in height. (Leslie, thanks again for suggesting pants for this trip.)
We were finally approaching what the map listed as the “Air Strip.” And we had no idea what we’d find. Much less what we found.
As we approached the bright orange windsock, we could see some movement up ahead. It looked like people, spaced apart, and just walking around. As we got closer that’s exactly what they were. All walked differently but deliberately. Some fast. Some slowly. One tripy guy, slowly as it in slow motion... it didn’t look real. There was a large house behind them all with a garden and still more people walking. And tents. Tons of tents. We walked nearer to a man with a beard and a ponytail. Leslie called out hello. The man said nothing. He didn’t even move. Nothing.
We walked faster. Finally we were far enough not to be heard. Just imagine our conversation for a minute. No really...imagine it.
(Upon arriving home I Googled it and the place is called the Desert Dharma...listed as “Buddhist insight meditation programs and retreats with an emphasis on retreats in nature.) Very interesting. I was having my own retreat with nature without spending the $700 the website listed.
About 20 minutes later we arrived at Miller Flat. We found an perfectly sheltered spot and set up quickly. After we each cleaned up in the river (me with complete submission), and made dinner with enjoyable conversation, he headed in and I headed out. He to his tent and me to a small bluff over Miller Creek and looking north west at the sunset. Writing this down.
Day 3
9.6 Mile Hike
24.6 Total Miles
5 hour drive
We didn’t know it was our last day on the trail when we woke up. But it was.
We left Miller Flat at about 9:30 am today. I slept amazingly getting 10 hours of sleep! Leslie not so much.
The first .75 miles were up on a bluff and through some beautiful savanna-like meadows. Even my Africa traveling hiking partner agreed. Deer were everywhere. Lots of fawn as well.
We dropped down to the beach for a bit below an old fire scar on the mountainside. And immediately the tide pools were amazing. Sea anemones, Starfish, Muscles, all floating in among kelp gently bobbing up and down while drifting a bit forward, then backward. Some of the starfish were almost iridescent in their color.
The beach changed to round boulders the size of small beach balls. Hopping along from rock to rock, knowing the majority were too large to move or shift, was a lot of fun. Being 100% in the moment as I lifted a foot from one perfectly selected rock to place it on the next perfectly selected rock took full focus. Being fully present is sometimes so difficult in the front country. Out here, it just comes more naturally.
We passed Shipman Creek and Buck Creek and continued on.
Getting to Gitchell, I could tell we might have a problem.
The scramble through the log jam at the bottom of the canyon was a bear. I hiked in and found a few spots, but the climb was hard. And I knew that once we were settled in we wouldn’t want to climb back through to the beach. I wanted beach. Leslie didn’t want the scramble. We continued on to the last spot for camping, Horse Creek.
I knew the moment we left Gitchell, that we were going to hike the last full 3.6 miles to the car.
I knew that Horse Creek, no matter how perfect it was, couldn’t compete with 1.9 more miles to the car.
Sure enough, that's what happened. There was another log jam. Not as large through. I climbed through and found spots for both tents. I climbed back through to the beach.
Leslie was signaling to the car. He knew the same thing I knew. Time to go.
We hoofed the last 1.9, took a selfie and walked up to the car.
We changed into our clean car clothes and started the drive home. We reminisced about all our favorite times/places as well as the hardest/scariest moments of the trip. This was the longest trip Leslie had ever been on and it was quite the accomplishment for sure!
The Lost Coast trip was an enjoyable one. The scenery and weather couldn't have been better., Getting to know Leslie on a completely different level was terrific as well. I’m much more of a solo hiker ...but I wouldn’t have traded this trip with Leslie for the world. It was truly an amazing experience.
I WILL be back Lost Coast...maybe sooner than you think….
7 Hour Drive
7 Mile Hike
Leslie (my good friend and neighbor) and I left Taylor Way at 2 am sharp. We had a shuttle to catch at Shelter Cove with Bill at exactly 8 am. It was a five hour drive. If you do the math you’d see that we had more than enough time. The extra 50 miles we drove on I-5 wasn’t a consideration.
See….it was the middle of the night.
Google Maps inexplicably stopped speaking
Leslie and I were in deep semi-philosophical conversation.
And we missed our exit. By a lot. By 25 miles.
Leslie picked up the speed and actually made up for most of the extra 50 miles by getting us to the Trailhead at the unbelievable time of 7:30 am.
One other “couple” (later I would find out they were brother and sister) and a family of four (two teenagers) were already there waiting for the shuttle van. Bill got us loaded up and we started the two hour drive to the Mattole River Trailhead where we would start our hike.
The Lost Coast Trail is a 25 mile “trail” through the King Range National Conservation Area and offers one of the few coastal wilderness hiking experiences left on the US. Although the trail is relatively level, about 2/3 of the route is on the beach transversing gravel, cobbles and soft sand. It’s not an easy walk.
Bill started the drive talking a bit about the trail. But before any of us knew it, were driving at an unbelievable rate of speed. Taking turns that left passengers covering their eyes and shaking their heads.
About 15 minutes in, the tire pressure light came on. Bill and I were the only ones that noticed. He said nothing. I figured that maybe he knew that his sensor was faulty...I said nothing.
After an hour of white knuckle roller coaster riding, we stopped at Honeydew Creek Campground to stretch our legs and pee. It was immediately noticeable. The back right tire had a leak. And it was losing air fast. A sizable nail was stuck in the side wall. We all got back in the van quickly in a effort to drive the last hour before the tire went flat. Bill had now slowed down a bit and we drove for about 30 minutes before it was obvious that the tire was completely flat. Bill’s effort to make it to a pull out to change the tire was unsuccessful as we all heard and smelled the tire instantly shred.
We all unloaded and Bill announced he could get the tire changed in 12 minutes. To his credit, he had a new tire and rim on in about 15 and we were off again.
We arrived at Matole at about 10:20, unloaded and each group got going as they were ready. We said our goodbys to the brother/sister and to the family of four that we immediately named “La Familia.”
The first two miles of the trail wound through American dune grass where Jack rabbits and rattlesnakes make their homes. When the Coast Guard maintained the nearby Punta Gorda Light, a horse named Old Bill spent 30 years providing transport along this route.
We leapfrogged with the other groups here and there over the first few hours.
The trail emptied us out onto the beach. Rounding Punta Gorda (which we had to arrive at by a specific time to hit low tide) the Punta Gorda Lighthouse came into view. Here, low tide revealed tide pools and sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks. We stopped for a snack.
After about 2.5 more miles, we approached Sea Lion Gulch where the cliffs became too steep for the trail to continue. The trail descended through some tent sites perched high on the bluff where we had planned to stay but it was obvious that the best sites were taken and we would need to continue to Cooskie Creek for the night. The problem was, we couldn’t continue south for another 5ish hours when the tide would be low enough to get through the next section. The point we were at, marked the beginning of four miles of the trail that is impassible at high tide. In several places the cliffs are steep, and there would be no way to escape a surging tide.
After a few hours of relaxation, food and water, we dropped back down to the beach and started south again. In only about 35 minutes we were at our home for the night. And we had it all to ourselves.
Cooskie Creek is a steep green notch in the slope. In the creek, I spotted salmon and trout fry as they darted along the creek bed. High tide cuts Cooskie Creek campground off from Lost Coast Trail access on both the north and south sides. Watching the waves pound against the cliffs was amazing and gave us a remarkable sense of isolation. The map states, “It is perhaps the best taste of solitude the Lost Coast Trail can offer.”
Dinner, conversation, deer, sunset and finally sleep.
It was a terrific first day.
Day 2
10.7 mile hike
17.7 miles total
Woke up at about 5:30 am today. Finished the day before’s journal (since I was so tired the night before) and made some coffee. I ended up waking about 90 minutes before Leslie came out of his tent.
After making coffee and oatmeal, I wandered around a bit. There are some very nice campsites further up river and places to get in the creek. Hanging out on the ocean, I saw a few hikers pass by after getting an early start.
Once Leslie woke and ate, we packed up and headed south. Our goal today was Miller Flat, which groggy math the night before told us was a bit more than 8 miles walk.
The trail stayed on the bluff for a bit and then headed down to the beach. The beach was tough. Football sized rocks carpeted the beach which made travel slow and pounding. It took much longer to make the forward progress we had made earlier in the morning.
We stopped for lunch on a windy outcropping at Kinsey Creek. After lunch we continued to the beach where walking once again was a battle with the rocks.
About 15 minutes later I noticed a trail at an extremely steep grade that went up and to the left onto, what looked like, a long narrow sand dune. It looked like a sketchy first 10 feet and my feeling was that we should stay on the beach. When Leslie approached I showed him our choices. He immediately said “up.” He was done with rocks for now. So up we went.
The first 10 feet utilized a log, set up as a super steep ramp, to get up to the trail. I was surprised the ascent had been as doable as it turned out to be. But that’s where the “doable” got a bit sketchy.
The trail wound up and down through the sand and at times, against the ledge. This was a bit sketchy until we got to multiple sections of the entire face being nothing but sand. And then to parts that were so windy that the footsteps ahead where already refilled with blowing sand.
Let’s just say we had some pretty adrenaline filled moments.
Once through the worst of it, we hit some pretty large patches of poison oak. Bushes 6 feet in diameter and 4-5 feet in height. (Leslie, thanks again for suggesting pants for this trip.)
We were finally approaching what the map listed as the “Air Strip.” And we had no idea what we’d find. Much less what we found.
As we approached the bright orange windsock, we could see some movement up ahead. It looked like people, spaced apart, and just walking around. As we got closer that’s exactly what they were. All walked differently but deliberately. Some fast. Some slowly. One tripy guy, slowly as it in slow motion... it didn’t look real. There was a large house behind them all with a garden and still more people walking. And tents. Tons of tents. We walked nearer to a man with a beard and a ponytail. Leslie called out hello. The man said nothing. He didn’t even move. Nothing.
We walked faster. Finally we were far enough not to be heard. Just imagine our conversation for a minute. No really...imagine it.
(Upon arriving home I Googled it and the place is called the Desert Dharma...listed as “Buddhist insight meditation programs and retreats with an emphasis on retreats in nature.) Very interesting. I was having my own retreat with nature without spending the $700 the website listed.
About 20 minutes later we arrived at Miller Flat. We found an perfectly sheltered spot and set up quickly. After we each cleaned up in the river (me with complete submission), and made dinner with enjoyable conversation, he headed in and I headed out. He to his tent and me to a small bluff over Miller Creek and looking north west at the sunset. Writing this down.
Day 3
9.6 Mile Hike
24.6 Total Miles
5 hour drive
We didn’t know it was our last day on the trail when we woke up. But it was.
We left Miller Flat at about 9:30 am today. I slept amazingly getting 10 hours of sleep! Leslie not so much.
The first .75 miles were up on a bluff and through some beautiful savanna-like meadows. Even my Africa traveling hiking partner agreed. Deer were everywhere. Lots of fawn as well.
We dropped down to the beach for a bit below an old fire scar on the mountainside. And immediately the tide pools were amazing. Sea anemones, Starfish, Muscles, all floating in among kelp gently bobbing up and down while drifting a bit forward, then backward. Some of the starfish were almost iridescent in their color.
The beach changed to round boulders the size of small beach balls. Hopping along from rock to rock, knowing the majority were too large to move or shift, was a lot of fun. Being 100% in the moment as I lifted a foot from one perfectly selected rock to place it on the next perfectly selected rock took full focus. Being fully present is sometimes so difficult in the front country. Out here, it just comes more naturally.
We passed Shipman Creek and Buck Creek and continued on.
Getting to Gitchell, I could tell we might have a problem.
The scramble through the log jam at the bottom of the canyon was a bear. I hiked in and found a few spots, but the climb was hard. And I knew that once we were settled in we wouldn’t want to climb back through to the beach. I wanted beach. Leslie didn’t want the scramble. We continued on to the last spot for camping, Horse Creek.
I knew the moment we left Gitchell, that we were going to hike the last full 3.6 miles to the car.
I knew that Horse Creek, no matter how perfect it was, couldn’t compete with 1.9 more miles to the car.
Sure enough, that's what happened. There was another log jam. Not as large through. I climbed through and found spots for both tents. I climbed back through to the beach.
Leslie was signaling to the car. He knew the same thing I knew. Time to go.
We hoofed the last 1.9, took a selfie and walked up to the car.
We changed into our clean car clothes and started the drive home. We reminisced about all our favorite times/places as well as the hardest/scariest moments of the trip. This was the longest trip Leslie had ever been on and it was quite the accomplishment for sure!
The Lost Coast trip was an enjoyable one. The scenery and weather couldn't have been better., Getting to know Leslie on a completely different level was terrific as well. I’m much more of a solo hiker ...but I wouldn’t have traded this trip with Leslie for the world. It was truly an amazing experience.
I WILL be back Lost Coast...maybe sooner than you think….