Navaro River to Elk, April 6th 1997

The swells at sea were high all week, but the NOAA forecasts surprisingly predicted only seven and six foot swells for the weekend (nice and low). I surveyed the maps of the areas I haven't seen in Mendocino County and called my friends Charles and Cathy to try to arrange a trip. Plan A was to stay with them Saturday night, then convince them to spend the next day at the beach. But Charles wanted to get some work done around home and didn't want to come along. Plan B was to call my friend Robert who lives near the coast, crash on his sofa, and talk him into driving me out to the coast to leave my car at the landing spot. But Robert's son was visiting and the sofa was already taken. Plan C was to drive up to the little-known campsite on the mouth of the Navaro River, set up my tent, drive the car south to the landing spot, hitch-hike back to my tent and kayak, then kayak south early the next morning. But I forgot that I was paddling on a weekend. When I arrived at the Navaro River I found every campsite filled with an average of 2.3 giant camper-vans per site. Some of the vans had their wheels jacked up off the ground like they were planning on staying for quite a while. Several of the campsites had rings of camper-vans arranged around them to create private spaces out of the wind. Like wagon-trains ringed around the campfire. So Plan D was to call Robert back up and camp in his back yard. He was, in fact, willing to drive me back from the town of Elk in the morning. Good thing my plans are flexible!

Robert left as I got into the Navaro River near the ocean. The swells were as low as predicted but the tide was roaring in the mouth of the river, slowing me to a standstill. I got out of the river, dragged the kayak across the spit, and launched the kayak a little bit farther south from the mouth. The incoming tide made the waves around the river mouth a little larger, but my timing was good and I made it out to sea just before a large set of waves came in. I did get a little wet on my hands and arms and this made me pretty cold with the wind blowing out from the river valley. I discovered long ago that my neoprene gloves, under the wrong weather conditions, can be a mixed blessing and will conduct heat away from my fingers faster than they conserve it. The shaft of the paddle seemed to be sucking heat out of my hands, so I put the gloves on and happily discovered that they did make me much more comfortable this time. Because of the mild wave conditions I was not wearing the jacket of my wetsuit, only the farmer john with a nylon windbreaker to cover my arms. Because of the rugged rocky coastline, I was wearing my helmet. Humming the tune from "Helmet" by The Bobs, the chorus of which goes: "I've got my helmet on! Nothing can do me wrong!"

As I started south, I stayed away from shore and didn't go behind all the rocks. Being cold and uncomfortable makes me much more conservative about getting colder and more uncomfortable. But as I warmed up I got braver and had more fun. Not very far south of the river I found an arch sticking out of the side of the cliff. The water was deep under this arch so the mild swells rose and fell smoothly through the opening without threatening to break or even produce white- water around the edges. This area is marked "Devils Basin" on the charts. I tried to talk Paul Futcher into paddling down here when we landed at Navaro once, but he said "Places with names like that never turn out to be as fun as they sound". I did get to do lots of paddling in rock gardens, went behind rocks close to shore, and managed to get wet a few times. But didn't find any more caves or arches at first.

However, another kilometer south of this I started finding one cave after another after another. In one place I turned into a cove intending to paddle close to shore. Then I saw a hole through the middle of the big rock in the middle of the cove and turned straight toward that. When I came out the other side I circled back to head closer to shore again, only to see that the next point was riddled with caves. One of these had a sand bank in front of it, just at the water level with waves breaking onto it. I figured that I could make a surf landing on this, drag the kayak into the cave, then paddle through to where the cave opened closer to shore. But while I watched I saw large swells come back out of the cave from somewhere else and break from the opposite direction onto this same sand bank! I paddled around (instead of through) to discover another very large cave going completely under the point close to shore. This large deep cave was letting the swells in the back way. Before going through that I saw that the warren of little caves closest to shore are all connected together. By entering the first one I passed by two other openings and came out an opening that landed me right on the beach. Then I launched around these caves and took the shortcut under the point through the big cave. As I started in I noticed that the walls are dripping a lot of water. This made me nervous thinking that a really big wave came through recently that was a LOT HIGHER than the ones I had observed. So when the walls started screaming at me, I jumped. This turned out to be a bunch of oystercatchers nesting in there way up high on the walls. The screaming was just them trying to scare me off. It nearly worked. Several birds flew out the cave ahead of me, either in panic or to lure me away from the nests. I would have turned back to avoid bothering them but that would take longer than just plowing through and I was still nervous about the waves. Outside with no problems I turned close to shore behind two rocks and found that the second one had another cave! I went through this one even though it was so narrow that I had to hold the paddle practically vertically to stroke without banging into the sides.

I paddled into the next cove and behind a small rock. From here I could see rows of rocks offshore from Cuffeys point just ahead. All the rows are lined up north to south. On the charts Cuffeys Point has 4 or 5 long thin fingers of rock pointing south. On the north side of the point the cliffs have lots of little caves in them, all opening facing north. I am struck by an inspiration: All these rows of rocks, points, and caves are part of the same rock formation that has vertical layers of hard and soft stone running norht-south. The soft stone is washed away leaving caves, then the caves collapse leaving fingers and reefs behind. This makes me suspect that I might find some really long caves running under the point, so I paid special attention to every cave I passed. None of the ones on the north side of the point went very far, alas. As I paddled down the west side of the point, however, I saw light through a cave leading southwest. The cave looked navigable but is a little small, so I paddled to the next cave which looked bigger. This cave connects with the last one but the light at the end was a little more diffuse. It was larger, wider, and looked pretty deep. The waves behind me were calm, so I decided to go for it. When I get to the end, I had to turn into a very narrow slot but then I could see sky ahead of me. I zoomed out and discovered that I had taken a shortcut completely under and behind the first two fingers pointing south from Cuffeys Point! There is a very well protected beach in the end of this narrow channel where I landed. I had been through so many caves this morning that I couldn't remember them all already, so I pulled out a pen and the charts and drew red lines and notes on it to help me try and piece it all together later. I'm sure I went through more caves than I ended up describing here.

When I started off again I saw another cave on my right! It turns out to be a cave that connects back to the channel between the first and second finger of the point. There was a lot of noise in this cave from side channels close to the surface that rumble and blast air when the waves block them off. Another side channel on the right had light at the end of it but I was focused on the direct path and would not be distracted. Then I noticed that the sun had come out a little and light was rising into the cave under a self of rock and lighting up the water with a beautiful aquamarine color. I stopped to try and capture it with a picture. But before I could get the camera out a set of large swells came through. The exit in front of me had a sharp edge that hangs down a meter or so below the ceiling. In the larger swells I would not fit under this. I became nervous about getting stuck behind that and abandoned the picture taking to zoom out under the edge on the trough of a wave.

I turned east and paddled down between the next three fingers of Cuffeys Point and back. I was hoping for a long cave that went back under highway 1 but never found that one. Each of the fingers had dog- hole port eyebolts and chains rusting on them, and I tried to imagine this as a major port during the lumber rush: Several dog-hole schooners tied up here, one between each pair of fingers. Cuffeys Cove behind the point had mild surf and lots of little caves at the waterline spouting water when the waves hit them right.

South of Cuffeys Cove my charts showed a long thin rock that was called St. Anthony Point. But I never saw anything as big as the chart shows. I think this rock must have crumbled into a row of smaller rocks since the chart was made. I paddled behind a row of these rocks and there were a lot of caves in the cliff. St. Anthony's was probably once riddled with caves as well. Looking into one of the caves in the cliff I saw light! Of course I paddled in and discovered a wonderful little cove with several houses built on the top of the cliffs. There was an exit out the south side of this cove which was almost above water at this time of the tide. I landed, pulled the kayak over the sand behind a rock and launched out the south opening anyway. But as I got into the kayak I saw another small cave going back through the point that created this little cove, so I went back under the point to get out of the cove anyway.

Just a short distance south I could see three large rocks that marked the end of my trip. One of these is called Wharf Rock, and as I approached I discovered that it had a huge arch in it. Perhaps larger than the one in the arched rock at Goat Rock Beach! When I got close to this I discovered that it had huge chains attached on one side of the opening and a telephone pole mounted on the other side. Now my imagination is suggesting that dog-hole schooners sailed through the middle of this rock to be tied up across the opening. Through the arch and down the other side I noticed a warren of smaller arches through Wharf Rock. These will wear open into a second arch, and eventually even the huge Wharf Rock will crumble into a collection of smaller rocks offshore.

The next beach was Greenwood Cove where I would land to get to my car. Having made made good time, I paddled to the middle of the cove to look at Gunderson Rock first. This rock was riddled with caves so again I went out through one of them and surfed back through another. South of Gunderson Rock the waves were refracting around to hit the beach at 90 degrees to the direct waves coming from the northwest. Where these two different waves met they created little moving pyramids of water. It looked like these waves from two directions created a confused area that was calmer than where the waves hit directly. I went a little north of the line of pyramids, paddled to shore, and landed with no problems. When I pulled my kayak up the sand, I discovered a lake of fresh water behind the beach. This was a luxury: I could rinse all my equipment off in this water and not have to hose it off when I got home. I even took my wetsuit back to the lake after I changed and rinsed it off.

The only problem with landing (or launching) from Greenwood Cove is the hike up to the town of Elk. The trail is a nice inclined plane so you don't have to haul yourself straight up the cliff. To get this nice shallow slope, however, the trail is around two kilometers long. I walked up the trail with most of my loose equipment hanging off my paddle yoked across my shoulders. From the top of the cliff I scoped out the best place on the fresh water creek to paddle the kayak to a landing close to the trail. Then after I moved the kayak I took off the wetsuit and changed into dry clothes. I put the wetsuit inside the kayak and started up the trail. I made it most of the way up, then leaned the kayak against a fence to rest. I took out and carried the wetsuit, spare paddles, and the last of my equipment. Finally I came back for the kayak to haul it empty the last few hundred meters. I swung pieces of my equipment around my head to throw some of the water all over the parking lot. The sky answered by starting to rain gently. The rain got stronger and stronger as I stowed my equipment but never enough to inconvenience me.

I had considered leaving the kayak at the beach, driving my van to the next beach, hitch-hiking back and kayaking another trip today. The trip I had just completed was only nine kilometers but the next beach was 21 kilometers south. Instead I drove to this beach, Manchester State Park, to check out the kayaking possibilities. They don't look so good. From the parking lot next to the beach, you can't get to the water because of a 10 meter vertical drop at the edge of the dunes. There used to be stairs here, but they have collapsed and in typical State Park management style have never been replaced. I walked over a kilometer down the edge of this cliff before I found a place to climb down to the water, and almost another kilometer before I found the official access where the dunes were lower.

When I first came to the edge of the dunes, I saw an explosion of water spray up just past the breakers. What could this be? It was too large to be from an osprey hitting the water so I started hoping that it was a gray whale migrating north. Sure enough this is what it turned out to be! As I traveled up the dunes and then up the beach, I managed to keep pace with this lone whale traveling the same direction . When I walked out close to the surf, the whale spy-hopped: sticking his head up out of the water several times. Only 200 meters away from me on the other side of the breakers! I like to think that he did this because he was curious to get a better look at me.

When I found the official trail I tried to follow it back but took the wrong turn. I ended up meandering the long way around the park past salt marshes and fields of wildflowers. It was a nice walk but would have been nicer if I had been better prepared with proper footwear instead of sandals. In the end I hiked about ten kilometers around and through this park. The trail I followed back to my car turned out to be the trail that goes out to the walk-in "environmental campsites". I had just missed seeing them and didn't want to retrace the trail. Instead I drove to the north end of the park and hiked a kilometer or two south down the beach to check out the camping possibilities. There is a road at the north end of the park that actually gets close enough to the water to consider carrying a kayak in or out. But perhaps I could just kayak-camp here on my way by on a two day trip. The instructions at the trail-head say that registration is $10.00 per car parked in the lot, so the fee would be $0.00 for me with a kayak but no car. The campsites look abandoned and rarely used so I could probably camp out here for a week before a ranger even noticed. The composting toilet that I looked at was nailed shut and marked out of order. It had an arrow pointing away from the other working toilet and north towards the ruins of two houses on the cliff. (I think the arrow was a cruel joke left by a vandal).

I had seen these houses on the way down the beach so I followed the dune trail back past them to get a better look. From the beach they seemed an anomaly: The construction was very modern, so why were they abandoned and rotting away after being built so recently? The cliffs had not crumbled out from under them and forced the owners out. When I saw them up close the story got even more curious. This was obviously someone's dream house: Hand built in a beautiful spot overlooking the beach. It was a complex of three buildings arranged around a central courtyard. Two complete 2 bedroom houses and a one room studio. The houses each had two baths, large garages with built-in storage shelves, stone fireplaces, laminated open beam ceilings in the living and dining rooms. One of the houses once had a closed in greenhouse (conservatory?) attached to it. Marty and I often comment about how newly constructed houses along the shore don't seem to have enough windows. This house did not have that failing: The walls facing the ocean were almost completely windows. (all kicked out by vandals of course). Even my seat-of-the-pants engineering sense, however, told me that there was insufficient support around these windows to hold the ceiling up. The heavy open beamed roof had collapsed one corner of the house where little more than two 2x4's had once held it all up. This and a few other cheep construction details makes me think this was an owner-built house, perhaps built without a permit.

The house had a poorly placed weather-head for the power hookup, requiring that the wires hang over the central courtyard. But there were no wires and no telephone poles anywhere near the house. Did the builder's poor judgment extend beyond construction details, finishing it only to discover that he couldn't get a permit to have power brought out to it? The feeling of the anguish of having to abandon this wonderful site after all that work soaked into my bones. This seemed like the kind of disaster that I knew I was capable of bringing on myself. The house was now on State Park Land, so somehow it was converted from private land recently. I'm not sure I really want to know the whole story about the place, because the details would hurt too much.

After all this hiking and exploring, the beach did not look like a good kayak landing spot. Similar to Salmon Creek Beach, it has a long self of sand extending out under the water. The tide was low creating a soupy area close to shore with the waves breaking almost 200 meters out. I could launch through this, but I would get cold and wet. The best time to launch here would be at high tide, when the waves would break closer to shore making the trip out shorter. A sunny day would be another requirement so I could warm up after getting cold and wet on the way through the breakers.