"There was a time when Califor-
nia roads were the pride of the state," said Andy, as we bounced and swerved around potholes on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard to Lighthouse Point.
At the Point Reyes Lighthouse, operating since 1870, winds picked up to 45 m.p.h. From April through October fog envelopes this point. "Good thing it's November," I told Andy. We could see forever.
At the Point Reyes Lighthouse, operating since 1870, winds picked up to 45 m.p.h. From April through October fog envelopes this point. "Good thing it's November," I told Andy. We could see forever.
Driving toward Chimney Rock, we watched dairy cows graze on one side of the road and deer, some with eight points, move skeptically up the hill.
Chimney Rock Trail, a two-mile walk, looped around the steep rocky cliffs of Drake's Bay on one side and the open Pacific on the other.
"This is one of the most beautiful and untouched places I have ever been," said Andy.
I agreed. Untouched... windswept... spectacular, raw beauty, with foot-wide trail sections that clung to the edge of the cliff and skirted the lip of the rounded cliff tops. I sucked in my fear of edges. "Andy?" I whimpered. "Please? I can't do this."
"Oh, come on. You won't fall off here. The trail is flat," he said, reaching back for my hand.
"And a foot from the steep edge, straight down, with nothing to grab," I moaned. It was almost one of those sit-down-and-cry paralysis moments at dangerously beautiful edges that take my breath away.
Elephant Seal Trail, only about 25 feet above the water, seamed Sir Francis Bay to over look an elephant seal colony breeding beach. At least 50 animals lazed in the sun. An ice plant bloomed along the trail. A short walk, all uphill, gave us a beautiful view of Drake's Beach, the protected area where Sir Francis Drake, one of England's most famous sailors, careened his ship, the Golden Hind, to make repairs for some five weeks during his voyage around the world. Drake was the first man to make such a trip in his own ship.
As we drove to the next stop along the National Seashore, we passed a herd of elk in Tule Elk Reserve. The male, a proud 16-point buck, gathered his harem on the inside of the farmer's barbed wire fence. We chuckled about a few young ones, confused and afraid to jump, as they poked their noses between the wires, debating what to do but anxious to leave our presence.
Elephant Seal Trail, only about 25 feet above the water, seamed Sir Francis Bay to over look an elephant seal colony breeding beach. At least 50 animals lazed in the sun. An ice plant bloomed along the trail. A short walk, all uphill, gave us a beautiful view of Drake's Beach, the protected area where Sir Francis Drake, one of England's most famous sailors, careened his ship, the Golden Hind, to make repairs for some five weeks during his voyage around the world. Drake was the first man to make such a trip in his own ship.As we drove to the next stop along the National Seashore, we passed a herd of elk in Tule Elk Reserve. The male, a proud 16-point buck, gathered his harem on the inside of the farmer's barbed wire fence. We chuckled about a few young ones, confused and afraid to jump, as they poked their noses between the wires, debating what to do but anxious to leave our presence.
"Are you trying to exercise me?" I asked as we walked up another quarter mile to the Life Saving Station cemetery. Graves of people from the late 1800's who died at sea rested between eucalyptus and cypress at the hilltop.
Not far away, a dirt road followed the estuary to an oyster farm. Four or five scruffy men at picnic tables nodded, as Andy and I walked past mounds of broken, drying oyster shells. A young lady stepped from the ramshackle store, carrying two large net bags of fresh oysters, but a sign nearby read, "Oysters for bait only! Could contain poison. Not for human consumption. Do not feed to pets." The girl went back inside the store, and we watched a seagull land on open crates to peck determinedly for lunch.
"I imagine she is buying oysters for a restaurant," said Andy, "but that bird already located fine dining."
Abbott's Lagoon, a two-mile walk, provided views of pelicans, egrets and a blue heron in the marsh. Instead of going the extra half-mile to the beach, we climbed an adjoining hill for the panoramic view.
The next stop, Kehoe Beach Trail, was a 1.2-mile trek along Kehoe Marsh, up and down across several sand dunes and out to Kehoe Beach. Signs warned surfers about white sharks and waders and hikers about dangerously high bacterial count in the water.
"I told you today we would be outside more than in," said Andy, as we walked around the old Pierce Ranch. In the later 1800's, Pierce was reputed to have run the best dairy in the San Francisco Bay area, and his butter was prized far and wide.
As the sun sank lower and shadows crept between the hills, we picked our way down the steep McClures Trail to the beach. Here, according to the sign, researchers would count great white shark until January of 2011. All alone, we watched the gulls stand patiently at the edge of the foam, as waves and backlash washed the shore. The tide was receding; the day, ending; and we had a steep climb back home to Little Red.
Abbott's Lagoon, a two-mile walk, provided views of pelicans, egrets and a blue heron in the marsh. Instead of going the extra half-mile to the beach, we climbed an adjoining hill for the panoramic view.
The next stop, Kehoe Beach Trail, was a 1.2-mile trek along Kehoe Marsh, up and down across several sand dunes and out to Kehoe Beach. Signs warned surfers about white sharks and waders and hikers about dangerously high bacterial count in the water.
"I told you today we would be outside more than in," said Andy, as we walked around the old Pierce Ranch. In the later 1800's, Pierce was reputed to have run the best dairy in the San Francisco Bay area, and his butter was prized far and wide.
As the sun sank lower and shadows crept between the hills, we picked our way down the steep McClures Trail to the beach. Here, according to the sign, researchers would count great white shark until January of 2011. All alone, we watched the gulls stand patiently at the edge of the foam, as waves and backlash washed the shore. The tide was receding; the day, ending; and we had a steep climb back home to Little Red.
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