The coarse black sands of the Lost Coast in Northern California were gritty and cool as naturalist Holly Lohuis and I backpacked barefoot along the classic 25-mile-long route from Mattole Campground south to Shelter Cove. The only blemishes on those glistening sands were the prints of foraging black bears, coyotes, raccoons, gulls, and the occasional skunk — lots of traffic between 12 creek crossings at the foot of the mighty King Range.
Of the 840 miles of California coast, the Lost Coast is gratefully roadless. The only access is backpacking and/or paddling its windswept, wave-battered shores. The King Range towers above it. The daunting coastal range receives 120 inches of rain per year, feeding year-round creeks and naturally filtered springs spilling out of crumbly shale. Those reliable water sources eventually converged with the Pacific. While we trudged in the soft sands and beneath weathered marine terraces, we soaked in the grandeur of the Lost Coast’s endearing solitude.
However, while we trekked the Lost Coast, we couldn’t help dwelling on Santa Barbara’s own version of its “Lost Coast.” Yes, there are stretches of Northern Santa Barbara County that are roadless and/or inaccessible. It’s some of California’s most unique and stunning scenery with rugged coastal topography swept in coastal sage scrub; rolling, wind-groomed artistic sand dunes; lonesome pocket beaches; and hefty marine terraces.
