Five Days on The Lost Coast Trail

The Lost Coast Trail, hugging the coast of the King Range Wilderness area in northern California, is a hike I’ve wanted to do for years. Not typically being one to plan my life six months in advance, I’ve never gone through the process of getting permits when they first become available. So last spring I had been keeping an eye out for cancellations that would work for my schedule, my friend Zack’s schedule, and the tide’s schedule. When a few permits opened up for mid-July I confirmed all the details and happily paid the $5 per entry permit.

The Lost Coast Trail is unlike any hike Zack or I had ever done. After testing our backpacking skills last year with a 20-mile out-and-back trip to Sykes Hot Spring in Big Sur we felt confident we could complete our first thru-hike.

The rules of the Lost Coast Trail were unique for me. Bear Canisters would have to be brought along for the trip, as bears there have learned to attack the anchor points holding up food bags hanging from trees. Being a coastal hike in an undeveloped wilderness area, the rules about where you’re supposed to poop were also different than anything I had seen before, but we could hopefully hold off on telling you more about that for a few days into the hike.

In order to hike the Lost Coast Trail, you have to plan ahead. Due to high tides, certain parts of the trail are impassable at certain times of day. Depending on weather and a number of celestial factors that go well over my head (just assume the pun is always intended), some days may offer longer durations or more convenient times to make progress before the tide rises again and blocks the trail. 

Even figuring out how to get to the trailhead is a task in planning ahead. Zack and I opted to drive to the southern trailhead where we would join a two hour-long shuttle ride to the northern trailhead then hike back south along the coast, planning to arrive back at the car in five days.

Looking North from the shuttle pickup location, we could overlook the final part of the trail a few days before we'd be on it.

As we waited for the shuttle to arrive we watched the fog slowly expose the end of our hike on the beach below and talked with a few people arriving back from their thru-hikes. One woman recommended three campgrounds* in particular, all three of which were the ones I had planned on us staying at, which put me at ease about having planned the trip. She recommended one camp spot in particular at Kinsey Creek, which is where we were planning on spending two nights, so we vowed to get that spot as we joined our potential competition for it on the shuttle and rode to our starting point.

*In the King Range Wilderness you’re allowed to set up your tent and camp wherever you like, however some areas are widely used as stopover points and have well-defined camping areas. I’ll just be referring to these as campgrounds and campsites, despite them not technically being specifically designated as such.

 

Day 1

A flyover of our first day of hiking. Google Maps conveniently added high-resolution images of the King Range Wilderness about a month after we returned from our trip. Helpful for showing you the trail, less helpful for us when planning the hike. This shows where we started on the trail.

Getting off the shuttle at Mattole Beach with three other small groups (groups of more than three require an additional permit), the powerful wind coming off the coast was immediately noticeable. Zack and I joined everyone else in quickly eating before using the last bathroom we’d see until reaching our car. As everyone else from our shuttle made their way onto the trail, Zack and I rushed to finalize our packs, and I forgot to put the gators I had purchased onto my boots. Zack and I were making our way up the sandy path only a few minutes after the last of the other groups and I was happy with my high-rise boots for keeping the sand out even without the gators.

Making our way onto the first section of beach.

The first tidal zone we would have to worry about would start about five miles in, and would be impassible until morning. Zack and I figured everybody would be camping out at the start of the tidal zone, since it would have to be passed somewhat early the next morning before the tide cut it off again.

Being quick hikers (especially when egging each other on), we wanted to have first-pick of camp spots at Sea Lion Gulch so we quickly began to pass the other groups from the shuttle. Zack’s hat had other plans and decided to use the powerful wind gusts to make a mad dash for the ocean as we chased it down the beach. I managed to dive for it and stab it into the sand with my trekking pole just feet from the water’s edge. I lent Zack that hat, I wasn’t going to let him lose it.

Pausing to quickly fix the items that had come loose on the outside of our packs, I now wished I had put on the gators, as loose sand had made its way into my boots. With other groups already re-passing us I didn’t want to waste more time cleaning them out, so we plodded on sand in shoes.

Our faster hiking pace had us leapfrogging groups again as we made our way toward the first of many cliffs we would walk up and along. A group of backpackers heading north passed us as we started to get off the beach, and seeing the wind-swept sand kicking up into their faces made me doubly happy that we were taking a north-south route along the trail, as at least the wind was at our back helping us move forward along the beach.

That's not film grain, those black spots are pebbles of sand flying past us in the wind as we started our ascent off the beach.

As we climbed up the beach and began traversing along the edge of cliffs, the wind was no longer blowing directly on our backs, and our packs began to feel like parasails forcing us off the precarious path. Thankfully I was able to counter this by leaning to the left and putting weight on my trekking poles to make sure I wouldn’t fall off the cliffs to my right.

As we descended back toward sea level we saw Punta Gorda Lighthouse come into view. Just before the lighthouse we had passed the final group from our shuttle, however. Deciding we were sick of playing leapfrog and that we’d rather get the best campsite, we continued onward, opting to add a couple more miles to our day by hiking back to the lighthouse after setting up camp.

Punta Gorda Lighthouse coming into view.

Soon after Punta Gorda Lighthouse we passed one of many small stream outlets along the trail and made our way up a dirt trail directly along the tallest cliff we had passed yet. I had lost my fear of heights years ago, and I told Zack it seemed it was time for him to lose his.

At points the trail felt a little precarious in the high winds.

We came upon an empty campground and took our time scouring for the best spot while being serenaded by an offshore choir the campground got its name for. We opted for a smaller spot that would have us sleeping on a slight slope, but would give us a nearby hill as protection from the gusting winds.

We set up our tent as other groups arrived, then we dropped what weight we could from our packs and backtracked north to Punta Gorda Lighthouse to eat dinner. We were thankful to have less weight on our backs, but we had to fight our way back into the wind as we made our way back along the edge of the cliff. When we reached the bottom and headed for the lighthouse, we found the sea lions had come closer to the trail and didn’t appear too pleased to see us. Determining we were still at a safe distance we quickly made our way past them and up to the lighthouse.

 Exploring the ground floor and the cement structures nearby the lighthouse, we decided they would offer great protection from the wind as we cooked dinner on my butane burner. Dinner had to wait as I encouraged Zack up the spiraling ladder to the top of the lighthouse where the wind was fierce.
Taking plenty of time to enjoy the view, we eventually made our way back down to make dinner. This is where I would first get the feeling I may have made a significant planning error for the longevity of our five night trip.

Night one would have us making a risotto I had picked up from Aldi. As the risotto simmered, Zack and I noticed a bird flying erratically around the building we were in the entryway of. We then noticed a nest in a corner of the room with a chick in it. Mother bird, still having safe access through a window on the other side, seemed satisfied we wouldn’t be a threat however.
As I continued to burn off water for the meal, we watched the sun reach for the horizon and I thanked myself for getting the larger of two butane canisters I had considered. The hot meal tasted and felt great, especially as the sun began to disappear.

We quickly cleaned and packed up our cookware, prepped our headlamps just in case we’d need them, and headed back north past the sea lions. The winds died down noticeably with the setting sun, which was fortunate as we were now navigating the cliffside in the day’s last light.
As we approached the campground  we passed two guys from our shuttle putting their bear canisters near a rock at the top of a hill. They suggested everyone put their bear canisters in one place, which Zack and I agreed to do after we enjoyed the night sky.

As the rest of the hikers went to bed Zack and I stayed up enjoying some whiskey, me infinitely jealous of the collapsible chair he had brought along with him as I perched myself atop the bear canister. My back was aching due  in part to the broken sternum strap on my pack that I jerry rigged a quick fix for before the hike.
Later that night, returning from a conspicuous trip behind a nearby bush, I let Zack know I had seen a pair of eyes reflecting back at me from my headlamp. The eyes were coming from atop the hill everyone else’s bear canisters had been left at. As we tracked the eyes it was clear the animal was interested in the stash of food but was too skittish to go to it as we kept shining our headlamps onto the hill. Zack and I are both convinced it was a bear, and after 15 minutes of it eyeing us and the food stash, it disappeared from view over the hill. We decided to store our bear canisters far away from everyone else’s that night.

The sun setting on our hike back from Punta Gorda Lighthouse.

 
Day 2

Having gone to bed late, we were awoken by footsteps as others got an early start on the trail, which passed not far from our tent. As we exited our tent into the cold and foggy morning air we watched more people descend the hill toward us and our neighbors packing their tents. Having planned on skipping breakfast, we got to work packing away our gear.

The path forward immediately drops down the cliff into the outflowing creek below, which we would follow onto the beach that had previously been blocked by the tide. This morning we would need to leave before 9am or the tide would once again get too high for the start of our hike to be passable.

As we packed we watched as a group of a dozen Boy Scouts and their leaders came trotting down the hill and past our site. Great, more people we would have to leapfrog in front of today, and it was to be the longest hiking day of them all. Thankfully, we could go full-throttle to get where we needed because tomorrow would be a rest day, with us staying at camp and enjoying the coast. First we needed to get there though.

Reaching the beach, we had to be careful trekking along the newly deposited rocks, which were slippery and unstable. Not being my ideal warm-up environment for a long hike, I precariously balanced with my trekking poles as I skipped from stone-to-stone along the foggy beach.

Eventually the large stones made way for smaller stones anchored into the sand as we continued to pass groups of people. Some of the Boy Scouts were complaining about how slow their group was going, saying it was embarrassing that they were being passed. We would later find out they had started from the very beginning of the trail at 4 a.m., so despite their embarrassment we were impressed.

You can see some of the Boy Scouts ahead and other groups making their way up the hillside.

We passed the Scouts as they waited to regroup before the trail took a vertical turn off the beach. As we struggled to find the first switchback up the cliff, the gaggle of Scouts ended their break and began up after us, so we kicked it into high gear, quickly gaining elevation in order to increase the distance between us and the many people we came here to escape.

Walking on dirt trails is heaven compared to hopping between slick boulders or slunking through sand, so we appreciated every step on solid land once we reached the top. The sturdy foundation and cliffside views only lasted half a mile before we reached the groups in front of us, who had piled up waiting for one another to lower themselves back onto the beach as the dirt trail descended even more steeply than it had risen.

We found ourselves back on a rocky beach and took the opportunity to pass more groups of people, and not a moment too soon. Near the start of this 3 ¼ mile stretch of beach, we ran into a pair of BLM Rangers coming the other way. Having kept my permit in my pocket for such an occasion, it was a quick interaction as they checked it and we were on our way. As we looked behind us we saw other groups scouring through their packs to get their paperwork out. This gave us a bit more buffer between the next group and finally a bit of seclusion.

This was to be the longest travel day of the trip and Zack and I had one objective: get to Kinsey Creek and secure our campsite for the next two nights. As we had been waiting for the shuttle at the start of the trip, Zack and I talked to a woman who recommended a specific site at Kinsey Creek (and confirmed the itinerary I put together looked great, easing my mind about the trip). We intended to get first pickings just like the previous night, and we had done well so far to pass people on our way south.

Having skipped breakfast, and even having skipped refilling our waters in the morning (Zack had none, I had a few ounces), we would have to stop eventually, but determination, grit, and pure unadulterated stupidity kept us moving forward for the time being.

Soon after passing Randall Creek we realized a dirt trail had again begun paralleling the beach and scrambled our way up the berm onto it. Two more miles would bring us to Spanish Creek and our only break of the day.

The trail nearly reached the mouth of Spanish Creek before turning inland, passing between campsites and a grove of small trees growing around the creek. As we stopped at a shaded opening along the trees, I ducked under the treeline and filled the water filter from the creek before hanging it on a branch and letting the water percolate through the filter and into our bottles. 

Spanish Creek would make me more envious of Zack’s FlexLite chair, as my best option was still to sit atop my bear canister, though I at least had a tree here to put it next to and lean against. To deepen my envy, other hiking groups took breaks right by us, many with similar chairs of their own. As we enjoyed our break our concern for our desired campsite grew as other groups passed us by, but we figured most people were likely trying to camp farther south than us so they could be closer to the start of the next impassable zone for the following day. The following day was of no concern to us at this point. However, our concern for our camp spot continued to rise as we heard another breaking group considering spending the night at Kinsey Creek. There were only 1.7 miles between us and our destination, and none of it required hiking on the beach, so Zack and I hurried along after hearing the other group’s deliberations.

One of a few small private properties in the King Range Wilderness.

With about a mile left in the day’s hike, we encountered the first rattlesnake of our trip, with me having heard it before seeing it curled up just off of the trail. As I jumped and flailed my arms calmly carried on down the path, behind me Zack was disappointed to find the snake had slithered away before he saw it, but he’d have a very similar encounter of his own before the trip was over.

As we turned the corner leading down to Kinsey Creek we were able to see clear across to the site we’d set out for. As the woman who recommended it said, it was as large as a mansion and had a killer view overlooking the campground and driftwood-filled rocky beach. More importantly: it was empty.

Zack and I excitedly crossed the creek and checked to make sure none of the other campsites were occupied yet either. Confirming the “mansion” was the best spot, we made tough decisions regarding tent placement and kitchen tiling before spreading out our stuff for an extended stay. A minor win for me in my jealousy of Zack’s chair: the campsite came with a premade driftwood bench that we would spend far too much time trying to improve throughout our stay.

The two guys who had been considering staying at Kinsey Creek arrived and made friendly chatter while checking out our campsite, but had to make do with a more forested area close to the creek.
We spent the evening setting up the tent and cooking another risotto on the burner. While cooking this second dinner, I began to question my decision to include meals that required boiling off so much water. We still had to make pancake mix and oatmeal for our breakfasts, and Zack likes his morning coffee, so it was time to start using the fuel more sparingly.

Overlooking a small cliff across the trail from our mansion, we enjoyed another beautiful evening sunset along with our slightly undercooked dinner from another driftwood bench. As dusk washed over us we cleaned our dishes and placed the bear canister away from the tent before taking in another clear night sky.

Looking up at our campsite from the beach you can see a fire destroyed the hillside south of Kinsey Creek.

 

Rest Day

Neither Zack nor I regularly eat breakfast, so we were fine opting to skip that meal to get started on the trails earlier in the day (or sleep in longer, depending on how realistic you want to be). A rest day, however, means we had time to cook, so I whipped up some pancakes and simple syrup and we enjoyed breakfast from the porch of our now fogged-in mansion.

With breakfast consumed and our neighbors from the previous night having left before we arose, unpleasant business now had to be conducted. As I mentioned earlier, the rules on where to poop along the Lost Coast Trail sound strange, but the BLM recommends you do it on the beach. You’re supposed to dig a shallow hole along the beach where the sand is already wet, and I’ll let you imagine what the hole is then used for. The convenient part about this method is that you can even leave your toilet paper in the hole before filling it back in with sand. As the tide comes back in it will remove your doodoo and dissolve the toilet paper. The less convenient part is how exposed you are, looking over your shoulder and praying no hikers are making their way toward you.

Following business hours we spent some time exploring the creek and relaxing around the mansion. Zack eventually made his way onto the beach as I searched for a spot to set up the hammock I had been unsure about bringing.
Throughout the morning other hiking groups would pass us by as we dillied about. As the afternoon rolled around, other groups began to stop along the beach to enjoy their lunches, and I joined Zack after failing to find a suitable hammock spot.
On my research for the hike I had read that river otters had been spotted at this creek before, and we happened to be in the right place at the right time. As I joined Zack a mother otter and her pup were stalking the crashing waves nearby, hopping up and down the beach right in front of us. People on the other side of the beach (including the Boy Scout troop) had no idea this was going on, and we hoped it would stay that way for fear of them scaring off the otters.

As the pup played along the beach its mom eventually caught a fish, but now had to play keepaway with nearby seagulls as she tried to eat it.
Eventually the otters decided to head back to the creek, but seemed to find it difficult to do so with people spread across the beach. Finally the mother found a safe opening back toward the creek and some of the groups from the other side of the beach got to see the pair scurry up the sand and disappear into the trees.
Zack and I decided to head off the beach as well. Rinsing some clothes off in the creek, we left them to dry at the mansion before changing out of our sandals and readying to get back onto the trail for a short trip north.

A pair of hikers going south reaches Kinsey Creek as the Boy Scouts have lunch on the beach.

The previous day we had noticed a large hunk of metal had washed ashore half a mile up the beach from our campsite, and we wanted to check it out. Here we killed more time enjoying the beach and I found a large sand dune to lean my back into as Zack relaxed in his chair.

We enjoyed the crashing waves for a while before making our way back to camp. Once there we got to work improving the bench I had been using, adding a few pieces of driftwood we had brought up from the beach. Held together with a piece of tieline and cushioned by my pillow, I felt like the king of Kinsey Creek, right up until I watched Zack sink into his chair without any fear of it falling apart on him. As I intentionally undercooked the night’s pasta to save on fuel, I was reminded that the only king here was the wilderness range itself.

We once again enjoyed a warm meal overlooking a setting sun, readying ourselves for another race against the tide at the end of our seven mile hike the following day.

Day 4

Thankfully the tide wouldn’t come in until a little later this day, but the lack of morning motivation led to a lackadaisical packing effort on my part. We’d decided to skip breakfast as usual, with Zack just making himself a cold coffee for the trail. Keeping the same pack configuration we’d had all trip, much of the gear was on Zack’s pack and I was happy to find my pack (containing the food) was noticeably lighter than it had been when the adventure began. Due to my slow packing we were nearing the end of our window of opportunity to make it to our desired campsite when we finally hit the trail. Another day without a break it would be.

Throughout the morning Zack and I saw a few cold-stunned amphibians along the trail, as well as plenty of birds perched on driftwood and deer grazing the fields. Zack also got to have the same rattle-snake experience I had a few days prior, not seeing it until it rattled near his foot. It’s a great way to get the blood flowing in the morning.

As we plodded along a beach section of the trail, Zack saved us a lot of pain by realizing the trail had continued inland without us. We cut up the beach to rejoin the trail just in time to start making our way up another cliff. The elevation would slowly make its way back down and we would eventually rejoin the beach.

Coming up on Big Flat Creek we had no plans to slow down, but I was forced inland in an attempt to keep my feet dry. The soles of my well-loved boots had started to fall off, and that was hardly the only issue with the nine year old footwear. Finding a narrower point to jump across upstream, I ended up having to throw my pack and crawl through mud to get back to the trail on the other side. 

As we continued south there was a noticeable change in landscape. We were now walking along the bottom of a cliff covered in large vegetation reminiscent of a rainforest, interspersed with streams of water flowing onto the sand. Due to our ongoing race against the tide, we didn’t have much time to stop and enjoy the beauty.
The plan for our final night was to stop at Buck Creek, which is in the middle of the tidal zone we were worried about. My hope with camping in the tidal zone was that others wouldn't want to do it, opting to get through the final 1.5 miles of it and not have to worry about it the following day. Our concerns about the tide became more urgent as our path between the crashing waves and cliffside was noticeably narrowing.

We made it to Buck Creek and were happy to find it completely empty. We made our way up the initial ascent to the campsites before stripping off our packs to scout out the best spot.
As we decided on the highest area, our hearts sank seeing someone come up onto the beach from the north, only to be joined by another hiker. Zack and I made sure to be seen securing our campsite, and kept watch of our new guests, wary of where they would set up camp. As their third straggler caught up with the group, we were shocked and relieved to see the group continue south. Their bold strategy certainly paid off for us as we watched the tide completely cut off both the north and south entrance to the beach. The beach would now be a private one until the tide went out in the morning. We used the opportunity to explore, wash ourselves and our clothes in the creek, and get more sun than we’d been willing to elsewhere.

Our campsite even had an area where I could finally set up my hammock. Sadly, it still only got about 20 minutes of use throughout the evening. It’s hard to stay put at your campsite when you’ve got a whole private beach and hillside to yourself.
We spent our final evening on the trail watching the sun disappear from the beach while we snacked away on the dry food we had brought instead of cooking our final batch of pasta.

We could see the end of our journey from Buck Creek.

 

 

Day 5

Zack and I sputtered out the last of the butane heating up water for my oatmeal and his coffee in the morning. As we packed camp one last time I was surprised to see hikers going by along the beach. I didn’t expect anyone to be traversing this section of trail until later in the morning, but more people than I expected were risking it while the tides were still fairly high.
When we got started on the trail it had been a while since anyone had passed by, but of course once we start heading south on the beach we turn around and see two groups not far behind us. Wanting to increase the distance between us, we once again pick up the pace. Over the trip Zack and I had gathered a sense about where the best places to walk on any section of beach were. If it’s too rocky your footing may shift on you, too sandy and each sinking footstep becomes a mental and physical challenge to keep trudging on. The last day of hiking would start us off with a nice mix of the two, allowing for solid footing along securely seated rocks in the sand. Unfortunately this wasn’t to last, as the beach quickly shifted to gravel then sand. Knowing we only had 5.2 miles left until reaching the car, we kept pushing and increased the distance between us and the next group so they were out of view.

As the fog opened up we began to recognize landmarks our shuttle driver had pointed out before bringing us north. There was a giant boulder sitting on the beach ahead, and farther in the distance we could see the hillside houses that would let us know we’d gone too far had we reached.

The final few miles of beach are accessible to the public without a permit, so while there still weren’t many people we did get a few “woohoos” from daytrippers noticing the large packs on our backs. Then finally there’s the trail’s final feature for those taking the north-south route: a 100+ ft climb back to the parking lot, but it’s well worth it for the functioning toilet at the top.

Changes for the next trip

Bring fewer battery packs, or use my phone more. This being the longest and most-remote hike I’ve been on since my childhood, I was very worried about running out of charge for my phone and something going drastically wrong. I ended up bringing three external battery packs and also used my phone sparingly. Better to be over prepared than under, but my back would’ve appreciated not carrying the two larger battery packs that I never used.
Less dry food: I packed a lot of dense, calorie and nutrient heavy oat bars and nut mixes with us, but I forgot Zack and I don’t do a lot of snacking when we’re hiking. We could’ve used the bear canister space for something else, as much of it returned back to the car with us.
A chair: As I’ve mentioned throughout, I was very jealous of Zack’s collapsible chair and it’s definitely something I’ll be picking up before my next long hike.
A working sternum strap: After getting back from this hike I looked into it and realized Osprey has a lifetime warranty, so with a few pictures sent in an email I’ve since had a replacement strap mailed to me.