Mendocino Coast

The planning for this ambitious outing started in November of 2023, at which time it seemed impossibly far in the future. Then suddenly it was a month away, then a week, then it was time to pack and go. And all too soon it was over.

We're famous for having to switch to Plan B or even C, and this time was no exception. The traveling party was supposed to include myself Dick Estel, older daughter Teri Liddle, older grandson Johnny Upshaw, his wife Brittany,  their two sons, Colton and Jack; younger grandson Mike Liddle and his girlfriend Hayley Olivas.

Not long after the reservations were made and paid for, Mike informed us that he and Hayley were out, because he had mandatory training at work that week. The motel payment was non-refundable, but Teri and I decided the worst case Plan B scenario was that we could each have our own room. Then the training schedule changed, and Mike and Hayley were back in, but only for Saturday through Tuesday.

Meanwhile great grandson Colton became very involved with baseball, which culminated in a week-long tournament that matched up with our week on the north coast. Teri and I would still take Jack with us. Colton's team had a rough season, and they were out of the tournament by Monday, so the rest of the Upshaw's were able to join us on Tuesday. The downside here was that Teri's sons (Mike and Johnny) would not be together for any part of the trip. Such is the world of down-alphabet plans. 

As mentioned, our destination was on the northern coast of California, specifically Mendocino County. We would stay at a motel in Fort Bragg, and visit Mendocino Village, nine miles south, and several beaches and state parks that lie between the two towns. While I'm not a big ocean fan, I had a great time in this area in 2011 and 2012, and was ready to introduce the locale to members of my family, who had either never been there or had not spent any significant time.

Teri, Jack and I got an early start in my Honda CR-V hybrid on Saturday, June 22, with Mike and Hayley about an hour behind us. Getting from the middle of the state to the coast north of the bay area is NOT half the fun. Teri found driving in Bay Area traffic very stressful. I've tried several routes, none of them ideal. This time we went north on State 99, then west from Manteca on a series of highways that took us north through Oakland, across the Richmond-San Rafael Bridge, and on to US 101. We met up with Mike and Hayley near Santa Rosa for a short lunch and rest stop. Mike had played travel hockey as a teenager and wanted to show Hayley the famous "Peanuts" rink in Santa Rosa, built and originally owned by Charles Schulz. Jack was interested and rode with them the rest of the way. Teri and I continued up 101, then northwest on State 128, which leaves the US highway at Cloverdale, goes through Boonville and a couple of tiny towns, and joins CA Highway 1 a few miles south of Mendocino. This is a scenic 70 mile drive that goes past farm country with oaks and dry grass, a bunch of wine vineyards, and then through redwood country, with the road often shaded by branches joining overhead.

Much of the land along the coast here is a level headland, stretching in from the ocean anywhere from a few hundred yards to a mile, and bordered on the west by steep cliffs above a rocky shore. Mendocino Village, as well as other infrastructure along Highway 1, is situated on this plain, and we turned in on the southernmost street in the town, and drove around the outer perimeter,  close to the cliffs. We made a quick pit stop, but did not linger, since we were eager to reach our destination. The road returned to Highway 1 north of town, and we had a drive of just under ten miles to reach Fort Bragg.

We had three adjacent ground floor rooms at the Baymont by Wyndham, and went through the fastest and easiest check-in in the history of motels. Teri and I got some of our stuff unloaded, and were soon joined by Mike, Hayley and Jack.

On these trips we bring food for breakfast and lunch, and some dinners. The rooms had microwaves, and very small refrigerators, and a limited "free" breakfast. Teri had brought stuff to make tacos, one of Jack's favorites, for that first night, and we enjoyed supper in her room.

Before leaving home, we had discussed things we wanted to do, with me posing as an experienced traveler to this area. Sunday morning we drove south about eight miles to Russian Gulch State Park, which like most parks in the area has a segment on the coastal headlands, and extends inland. A trail goes up along a small creek through redwoods, towering hardwoods, and plenty of small shrubs and plants. This is the Fern Canyon Trail, and I learned while preparing this report that it's closed intermittently throughout the summer. It closed three days after we were there, so we were lucky to be there at the right time.

We are always glad to see one of the coastal country's unique creatures, the banana slug, a special treat for Jack, who is a fan of reptiles, amphibians and creepy crawlies. We've discussed why it is that we like these slimy beasts, while we hate the small brown ones that inhabit our gardens at home. My theory is that it's because they know their place and are NOT in our gardens. Jack predicted that we would see five, but in the end we had to be satisfied with four . This was the first time we had seen them up a tree, wedged between cracks in the bark; previously they have always been on the ground. Teri would later see number five on our last day there.

We also saw plenty of wildflowers, berries, and other stuff. What we did NOT see was the waterfall that is at the end of the hike. It had become obvious that the distance was more than we wanted to walk, but, as I explained, it's a fairly small although charming fall, as seen in this 2012 photo, so we did not miss much.

One of the more interesting sights along the trail were what Jack called "Grass Trees." These were plants, ranging from a few inches to several feet in height, with long, thin needle-like leaves that resembled grass growing horizontally. These plants  appear to be very fragile - Jack pulled one stalk toward him and it did not straighten back up; another one collapsed as soon as he touched it.

When we got back to our starting point we drove a short distance within the park to a small beach under the iconic Highway 1 bridge over the creek. Getting to the beach from our parking place required crossing the creek, and there was no safe spot to cross without wading. I've crossed plenty of creeks stepping from rock to rock, so I don't have to do it anymore. I was content to sit on a retaining wall below the parking lot and enjoy the view. The Frederick W. Panhorst Bridge  completed in 1940, is similar to nearby spans at Jug Handle State Natural Reserve and Hare Creek, and according to Wikipedia, is "a reinforced concrete open-spandrel deck arch bridge." Don't say you never learn anything from these reports. I actually prefer this view looking back inland from the headlands that I photographed in 2011.

After a period of fun on the beach, we drove out toward the entrance, but turned west to drive to a parking lot on the headlands, and walked on a trail that winds along the edge of the cliff. There are unofficial trails in several places across the grass-covered plain, and we used one of these as a shortcut back to the parking area, and returned to Fort Bragg, ready for dinner. 

A week earlier we had celebrated Teri's birthday at her mobile home park, although today was her actual day. Mike announced that he would take us all out to dinner for his mom's birthday, so we went to the Noyo Fish Company, near the harbor. The Noyo River runs into the ocean on the south side of Fort Bragg, and a road winds down to the bottom where there is a harbor, a number of restaurants, and beach access.

I don't care much for seafood, so I had a beef dish that was very good, and Jack had a  burger, while the others took advantage of the fresh caught menu offerings. We ordered at a counter inside, found seats out where we had a view of the harbor, and enjoyed our food after plenty of exercise to enhance our appetites.

We finished the day with a visit to Glass Beach, a place "filled with seaglass," i.e. shards from bottles and other sources that  have been worn down by the action of sand and waves. The reality does not match the hype; apparently all the large pieces have been gathered. Nonetheless, Jack, Hayley and Mike had a good time, and returned with handfulls of sand in which you could spot a few tiny bits of glass.

Back at the motel, we watched the moment when the sun disappeared entirely into the ocean, and captured shades of purple, pink and blue as the light faded.

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On Monday we drove south to Mendocino Village, nine miles south of Fort Bragg. When I first visited here in 2011, I was struck by two things. First were the many wooden water towers, dating from the days when water was brought down from the hills above, and pumped with windmills into tanks on the towers, providing water pressure through gravity. There were a number of different types, and I took many pictures.

The other thing were some tall, spiky plants that I learned are called echium, with a common name of Pride of Madeira. Although they were very common in Mendocino, eventually I saw them in various other places along the coast. They are sometimes considered a weed, and grow readily in poor soil, but I found them to be dramatic, delightful, and certainly worth an archipelago's pride. (The water tower and echium photos are all from my earlier visits).

We did not see many of the plants in the area of Mendocino we visited this day, but Teri and I saw a lot of them on the route we took through town the first day. The towers, on the other hand, could be seen rising above the village from a number of vantage points.

When we arrived at the village we found parking spots and started strolling around. Jack likes to get souvenirs wherever he goes, and already had a stuffed puppy from the ice rink, one of Snoopy's siblings from his days at the Daisy Hill Puppy Farm. We all enjoyed going through the many shops in Mendocino, and Jack spotted a lot of possibilities, but in the end, did not choose anything, wanting to check out stores in Fort Bragg also. On my earlier visits I had found a zipper front hooded sweatshirt, something that's hard to find, but it disappeared some time ago. I hoped to get a new one, but they either did not have zipper shirts, or they did not have my size. One shop took my name and phone number and said they would call when they got some in.

I think everyone else resisted temptation to buy anything, but we enjoyed looking at the unique offerings in this charming  place. We also enjoyed the many flowers growing in front of houses and businesses, not knowing if they were wild or domestic.

A few years ago Mike took up golf and became quite enthusiastic about it. He looks for a course wherever he travels, and this trip was no exception. A little after noon we returned to our cars, and Mike, Hayley and Jack left and headed south on Highway 1. Their destination was the Sea Ranch Golf Links, almost 90 minutes south in Sonoma County.

Teri and I moved my car to a main shopping street, and went through a few more shops. We were getting hungry, and searching with our phones, we found that we were very close to the Flow restaurant. We made our way upstairs and found a table by the window, with a view of the headland and the ocean. It was fairly pricey, but the food and service matched up well with the cost. I asked if they had Coke, and the waiter said, "We have cola." I ordered that, assuming it was Shasta or some other generic brand. It proved to be something quite different. I can't recall the name, but it was in a fancy-looking seven-ounce bottle, and had a touch of cinnamon. The label noted that it was created for use with whiskey or vodka, but it was also good with my burger. It was an interesting variation, although I would not choose it regularly.

We had parked where we could easily get to a path that led out on the headlands, but after lunch we did not feel like any more walking. We went into a couple more shops, then headed back north to our hotel.

That evening was game seven of the Stanley Cup Final, between the Edmonton Oilers and the Florida Panthers. None of us had a dog in the fight. My team, the San Jose Sharks, Teri's, the Detroit Redwings, Johnny's, the Pittsburgh Penguins and Jack's, the Minnesota Wild, did not make the playoffs. Mike's team, the Colorado Avalanche, went out in the second round. But when the winner of the cup is being decided in game seven of a best of seven series, every true hockey fan is watching.

Florida won the first three games, and looked to easily close out their opponent in the next game (then the next, and the next). The Oilers mounted a fierce comeback to force the deciding game seven, but a team has come back from being down 3-0 to win the cup only once in NHL history, and this was not to be the second time. We were all cheering for Florida, who had been in the final twice previously, but had not won the cup in their 30-year existence. The game was exciting and with the Panthers up 4-3, Edmonton tried right to the last second to tie it up and force overtime. In the end it was the Panthers who raised the cup and skated around in front of their home fans. Mike, Hayley and Jack did not get back till the game was over, but had been checking the progress on their phones.

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Since our arrival we had enjoyed sunshine and highs in the low 60's. When we got up on Tuesday, we were disappointed to see fog over the land and sea. This day also marked the "changing of the guard." Mike and Hayley had to go home, although they planned a couple of stops along the way, first at the Fort Bragg botanical garden just south of town. Then they would return to Santa Rosa and visit the Peanuts Museum. Teri and I were there with Mike a number of years ago, and were impressed with the various displays.

Johnny, Brittany and Colton would be arriving in mid to late afternoon, and Teri, Jack and I wanted to look in some shops in downtown Fort Bragg. One of our first stops was the Skunk Train gift shop, where I had bought skunks for the boys in 2017. Once again I looked for a zipper front hooded sweatshirt. Once again I was told that they will be getting some in "later."

Jack was more fortunate, finding a bunch of things he liked. In typical Jack fashion, he took a long time to decide, but finally settled on a fanny pack decorated with the railroad's iconic railroad conductor skunk. Ultimately I decided on a Skunk Train cap, since I only have about 15 caps (some are getting dirty and are probably not washable).

Just up the street from the train depot and shop is a mall/museum, with a number of small shops, and two early day steam railroad engines. We did not find anything we wanted here, but would return another day.

Teri's brother Mike T has been to Fort Bragg a number of times, and recommended the Cowlick ice cream shop. We had driven by it the first night and saw a line out the door and down the block, but in the daytime it was almost empty, so we all had a nice dessert in between store visits. (Although Ice Cream Month was not till July, we managed to enjoy it four times in Fort Bragg - twice at Cowlick's and twice at Rite Aid, the home of the classic Thrifty brand of ice cream that I used to buy for 49 cents a half gallon).

We went into several stores along the main street, including one that offered books, vinyl records and CD's. Although I no longer routinely buy CDs, having more than enough, I could not resist one by John Mayall and the Bluesbreakers, featuring early career performances by Eric Clapton on guitar and John McVie on bass. With no CD player in my 2024 Honda, I had to wait till I got home to play it, and It was well worth the $6.50 I paid.

We returned to the motel to await the arrival of the rest of the Upshaw's. After we ate lunch from our supplies, Jack and Teri engaged in a spirited game of Crazy 8's, while I read and watched them.

It was not long before Johnny, Brittany and Colton arrived, and after they got settled into their room, we drove to the harbor area, and went out to the beach, which my notes say was dirty and rocky. This was no barrier to the boys, and Jack asked to be buried in sand, something he always likes to do at any beach.

Once he emerged from the sand, we went to the Sea Pal Cove restaurant, one of many in that locale. It was very reasonable, and dining was outside on a deck. It was cooling off and a fire was going in a huge fire ring nearby, not close enough to help us while we ate, but very nice to stand by after we had finished our food.

Throughout the week we usually went our separate ways in the evening, reading, watching TV, or playing video games. We were only a few steps apart if we needed to look in on each other, and we usually went outside to watch the sunset. On this foggy night, the sun was not to be found.

--Dick Estel, July 2024

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In planning activities for this trip, Johnny's family heard about the Avenue of the Giants, and wanted to check it out. A little ways north of Leggett, where CA Highway 1 joins US 101, the route is known as the Redwood Highway. Avenue of the Giants is a 31-mile bypass that goes into the land of the giant coast redwoods, and is part of the original alignment of the US highway.

To get to this point we had to survive the heart-stopping last 20 miles of Highway 1 from the coast in through the mountains. This section of the road is narrow and winding, with many, many sharp curves where the recommended speed is 15 miles per hour and often less. In 2011 I had driven this stretch in my motor home, but I was more than happy to just be a passenger this time.

Once we reached US 101, we soon came to the Grandfather Tree, a redwood with a huge, multiple trunk, one of the widest redwoods in the world. It's about a half mile south of Richardson Grove State Park, as well as  being a tourist attraction with chain saw carvings and the obligatory gift shop.

It's a few more miles north to the southern end of the Avenue, just north of Garberville. As soon as we entered the road we saw a sign saying that it was closed ahead. We believed the warning, but drove to the barrier so we would not miss anything. Returning to US 101, we had to go only a short distance to get back on the Avenue of the Giants, which eventually led us to the Founder's Grove in Humboldt Redwoods State Park, where we ended our exploration.

But first, it was time for lunch. We had brought sandwiches, and drove into Williams Grove, paid the $8 entry fee, and found a picnic table. It was cool, free of crowds, and a delightful place to rest and walk around a bit. Redwood sorrel, a low-growing, clover-like plant, provided an extensive ground cover.

Continuing on to our final destination, we parked and walked on a loop trail through the redwoods, enjoying ferns and other plants, as well as the living and fallen giants and old stumps. One of the most impressive sights is the Dyerville Giant, which was the tallest in the world when it fell in 1991. The fall was measured on seismographs, and people who heard it thought at first that a train had crashed. 

When we finished our walk, we followed a road that took us directly to US101, and made our way back to Fort Bragg. When we reached the ocean we stopped at a wide, sandy beach, where the boys enjoyed wading in the the shallow final few yards of a little stream. It had been partly foggy in the morning, with clouds seemingly drifting away, but it was now sunny, and stayed that way for the rest of our visit.

We agreed we would enjoy another visit to the Avenue of the Giants, when we could spend more time there. However, we would go up Highway 101 all the way, and not approach by way of Fort Bragg.

Back in Fort Bragg we enjoyed dinner at the Noyo River Grill, overlooking the river, then spent some time watching the waves from the Pomo Bluffs.

--Dick Estel, July 2024

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Photos (Click to enlarge; pictures open in new window)

Russian Gulch          Mendocino Village          Fort Bragg & Beach          Avenue of the Giants

Russian Gulch