Some distance north of Mendocino county, California's famous Coast Highway (highway 1) swerves inland and ends rather unceremoniously in the town of Leggett, nowhere near the actual coast. And north of Leggett, the well-traveled highway 101 remains inland all the way to Eureka, some 90 miles further.
Why? Because this part of the California coast is not a very sensible place to attempt to build or maintain a highway. It's too mountainous: the King Range provides an imposing 3000-4000' deterrent, stretching for some 70 miles. Wilderness trails account for most of the mileage: quite a few miles of beach, some rocky cliffs, some upslope forest, a few dirt roads, and just a few miles of pavement.
The paved road leads to the area's only notable town, Shelter Cove, which is approximately the halfway point of the run. I've been to Shelter Cove just once, and didn't have time to explore any of the surrounding area or trails. But I've always wanted to return, and run the full length of the route.
What I propose is a two-day adventure run, with an overnight stop in Shelter Cove. The run direction would depend on wind conditions: winds tend to come from the NW in good weather and the SW in bad. All else being equal, running north would help avoid the glare of the sun. Tides may be an important factor in a few places. Finding fresh water will be a challenge.
Obviously additional research and scouting would be a good idea. I am looking for people that might like to join me in exploring the area a little bit sometime this fall (and I'd also like to hear from anyone who has knowledge of the area). E-mail me: ericjr77@yahoo.com
The trailhead parking area was full of surfer vehicles, which seemed strange since there weren't any surfers down on the beach. I headed north for a couple miles of black sandy beach, then rocky beach, crossing several streams that were big enough to flow over the sand and rocks instead of under them.
It was wet and misting, but with almost no wind, which was lucky. The surf was decent, about four feet, and the tide was in, leaving only a small strip of land between the ocean and the eroded cliffs that serve as the foot of the King Range. In several places there was no land at all... I had to wait for a wave trough, then crash through pools and rocks to reach the next section of dry land before getting overrun by another wave. It wasn't difficult, but I did start wondering what it would be like in stormy weather.
It was slow going, especially when the only sand available was soft sand due to the high tide. There were also many long stretches of jumbled rock, like huge talus fields with everything wet and slippery. After about 1:40 of hard shuffling, I had only gone about 5 miles, according to the map. I was glad I brought my backpack with lots of gear, including a couple flashlights. I could even spend the night somewhere if I had to, though it wouldn't be comfortable.
In the first ten miles of beach and rocks, I only saw two people. It amazed me that the coast remained traversable for so long. This thing was called the Lost Coast trail, but so far there was no trail, just shoreline. I kept expecting to encounter impassable rocks, with a trail detouring inland. Some places were borderline, but the coast just kept on going.
Finally, the cliffs receded and the shoreline opened up to a huge flat marsh/meadow, about a mile long and half a mile wide. The berm was a mile long driftwood pile, and there were about a dozen tarps and smoky fires strewn amongst them, with surfboards sticking out here and there. Sure enough, an entire encampment of surfers had hiked the same route I just did, but with boards and wetsuits and camping gear, to spend a four-day weekend surfing in the fog and rain. I should mention that after leaving this camp, I didn't see another person the whole day until getting within a very short distance of the car.
Past Big Flat, there was an actual trail that clung to the cliffs and dipped in and out of several ravines. About four miles later, the trail returned to the beach, and I came across a couple private cabins at the end of a weathered semi-abandoned jeep road (the smarter way for the owners to access the cabins is probably by boat).
I consulted the map, and decided it was time to try the mountains instead of the coast. I started climbing the jeep road. It improved, but was very steep, about like Oscar's Road at Hardrock. It climbed about 3000 feet altogether, with the clouds accompanying me as we both rose through the forest... very peaceful. Higher, there were several exposed areas with the fog blasting across the ridgetops. In a couple spots, the road got above some of the fog, enough to reveal the ocean thousands of feet below.
The road continued on the mountain crest for quite a few miles. I turned onto a trail that supposedly followed the crest for another few miles before returning down to the beach. The trail was pretty tough... it was narrow, with blowdowns, and hadn't been brushed too recently. It was also pretty steep as it hopped across an endless series of 3500-4000' peaks.
But despite all the rain, the trail wasn't muddy at all. However, it was about three times as long as advertised. I went about 3 and a half hours, about ten miles, on the crest trail, then hammered about three miles down a dirt road before even reaching the turnoff to the beach.
By this time it was quite dark, and I felt fortunate that the turnoff was marked and relatively obvious. The trail dropped very steeply, losing 3000' in no time. At night, this descent was a definite walker/shuffler.
Back on the beach, my first light promptly went out. Visibility in the night fog was essentially zero. Without a light, the only thing visible was the white foam from the waves, and that only if you were within a few feet of the water. I had about five miles to get back to the car, the reverse of the first five miles I did in the morning, and had one light left. I kept imagining trying to get through the rocky places where I had to wait for wave troughs and dash across, except this time in darkness.
I decided to strictly ration my remaining light. I turned it on for a few seconds and scanned the rocks ahead. Knowing where all the rocks were, I turned it off and went as far as felt safe, usually about fifteen seconds. It turned out not to be a big issue. The tide was out far enough that there were no tight squeezes where I had to time the waves, and in fact there were stretches of easy sand where I could turn the light off for a longer time.
I wasn't sure how I was going to recognize the turnoff to the trailhead. I kept watching for lights in the distance, since I knew there were a few houses near the trailhead. Was fooled once by a boat out in the water, and once by a lit dome tent up on the bluff that looked a lot like car headlights when I first saw it.
There was one light I saw intermittently for a long time, like a mile or so. When I got closer, I could hear it, and realized it was somebody stumbling and splashing in the water, trying to move in the same direction as me, probably following the only thing he could see, the white foam on the waves. Every minute or so, he would turn on a handheld light that died in less than a second. He also had something that looked a lot like a weak headlamp: a very dim cone of light at about eye level. It turned out to be a white surfboard the guy was carrying. I'd been up for almost forty hours, and hiking/running for about fourteen, and things probably weren't making 100% sense. When I caught up, we had a laugh. The good news was that he knew exactly where the trailhead was, about 100 yards from where we were standing :-)
Altogether it was about 40 miles and 14 hours. Got some blisters from all the sand, which'll hopefully toughen up the feet for the six day. I felt too trashed to explore much more, so I spent the rest of the weekend taking it easy in the Avenue of the Giants and Eureka area, then driving back the long way (hwy 1).
I only covered about a third of the Lost Coast, and will definitely have to go back. If anyone else is interested, let me know :-)
