Horse Mountain Creek to Black Sands Beach

Last night the stars blazed, and the orbiting satellites vectored in all directions. The half-moon dipped silently into the sea. In the now total darkness, I could clearly see the Milky Way running right through Cassiopeia.

From the Rock to the Finish

This morning I wake to no fog. The wind howls, as it did all night, giving Brian a good test of his MSR Windburner stove. We enjoy Via coffee and breakfast snacks. We slowly gather up our things, not bothering to clean our pots or mugs. We will not be using them again. The car is now so close, yet seems so far away.

We are the first on the beach, and will clearly beat the guys to the finish line. We again search for that sweet spot of firmness in the sand. Before the impassable impassable, the one impassable even at low tide, we turn up and head to the parking lot.

We throw our packs in the car, and begin the long drive home.

Loading up for Home

Miller Flat to Horse Mountain Creek

Boulder Walking

With fewer miles to go, we are in no hurry to leave. We sleep in well past 7 am. Brian makes coffee while Bri and I trade breakfast snacks. I take her cinnamon PopTarts and she takes my smashed Honey Buns. I am not sure it makes much difference, but it feels like variety. During breakfast, a doe tows over her two tiny fawns, making us absolutely fawn at their adorableness. We also try to imagine their tenderness, but leave that discovery to the mountain lions.

Low Tide Pools

We are probably the last to leave camp. Rather than walking the virgin sand of yesterday, today we follow the zigzagging footprints of those ahead. No bother, the views are still spectacular. We scramble across rocky fields of ankle breaking boulders.

We break briefly at Shipman Creek. The rotting seal puts a slight damper on the otherwise idyllic scene. We continue through the impassable towards Buck Creek. We walk as close as we can to the firm sand by the lapping waves, occasionally chased comically to higher ground. For the most part, we keep our feet dry.

Filtering Water

At Bucks creek we break for lunch. Three guys nicely share the shade. We realize we have been on their same itinerary, camping each night in the same location. They too are looking to spend one more night in the Lost Coast. In other words, there are few options left, and we have competition. The next option is Gitchell Creek. The guys head out before us, to check it out.

At Gitchell Creek we do not find the guys, but rather a couple taking a late lunch. The couple is also considering their options. There is really only one spot, and they hint strongly they might stay. They suggest we check out Horse Mountain Creek, but we are sure the three guys are well on their way to that spot. We hike to a shady bunch of trees, but find no fresh water. We do, however, find more than enough mosquitoes. Rather than donate blood, we decide to push on.

Horse Mountain Creek seems further than we expect. When we arrive, the guys have already set up in the only decent shady spot. There is plenty of room in the sand, but it is uncomfortably hot in the direct sun. We grab some water and push on to a huge pair of rocks on the beach, where Brian and Bri camped two years ago. There is shade, and we claim it.

Making Dinner

We make awesome bean, cheese, rice, and salsa burritos. I finally get a chance to experience the inner tidal toilet. I know the rule is to deposit human waste by the sea, but it just feels wrong on all counts.

Sunset from my Sleeping Bag

I decide to forgo the tent, and cowboy camp. I am hoping fog does not make me regret my decision. We enjoy an awesome sunset.

Tomorrow should be a short walk out.

Sea Lion Gulch to Miller Flat

Brian wakes much earlier than I expect and begins making coffee on our pointy perch above Sea Lion Gulch. Apparently the tilted terrain did not translate to tranquil sleep. He is tired and a tad cranky. I chow down smashed Little Debbies, while Brian and Bri make the best of their cinnamon PopTarts. Bri clearly would prefer a fruit flavored tart, but the sweet views of the sea more than make up for the disappointment.

We leave camp well before our neighbors, and have the sandy beach all to ourselves. We take turns walking in each other’s footprints, as if sand drafting. The second and third steps on the same spot are clearly firmer and easier than the first. Looking back, it appears as though only one of us is making the Lost Coast journey.

Balancing Rock – Leave Beach

We spot the balancing rock, which is our visual clue to leave the beach for an up and over. We need to get around an impassable point. We eventually reach a private residence, and drop through a gate and down to the beach. The last part is so steep and muddy, we wonder if simply scrambling the rocks of the impassable point might have been easier.

The sandy beach occasionally changes into a field of lawn bowling and regular bowling size balls. We plod forward, trying to find the sweet spot of firmness between cliff and sea.

We rest briefly at Randal Creek, which is closed to camping for restoration. We then push on towards a late lunch spot in the sand and sun. Brian is hoping for an afternoon swim. On the way, we meet a large group of BLM employees on their way to perform trail work. Carrying Mcleods and Pulaskis, they stop to chat and check our permit. They seem pleased and almost surprised we actually have one.

Cracked Kayak

At lunch I cut and eat slices of salami, while Bri mixes up powdered hummus. Brian rolls up the hummus and apple slices in sweet flat bread. It is strange, but quite tasty. Brian takes a short heart-stopping swim. He returns quickly, mentioning something about losing both feeling and control of his legs.

Stinky Washed-Up Whale

As we hike on, the sea gods bring us a variety of gifts. We are presented with dead birds, a smashed kayak, and a washed up whale. The downwind odor from the whale is beyond words, at least words I am willing to write here.

We push through Big Flat, and cross the creek to Miller Flat, where we find a very nice and protected camp in the trees. We make stroganoff and enjoy a nice fire. Too tired to get up after our 11 miles of beach walking, we enjoy the filtered sunset through the trees.

With fewer miles to travel, tomorrow will be an easier day. This is welcome news, because the 7:00 am high tide will delay our start through the next 4.5 mile impassable zone.

Miller Flat Camp