Buckhorn Cove
A mini oasis of calm, tucked away from view
A rosy dawn over Buckhorn Cove
Do you remember last week when I wrote about that peaceful Mendocino calm that steals over almost all aspects of life out here on the coast? I gave in to it again this morning. I was on my way home from a beautiful sunrise run up Big River, and with the sky still rosily brightening to the full light of day, I could feel the tranquil Mendo air seeping into my brain. Before I could start to think about all the things I had to do today and how I needed to get home quickly and get going on everything, I pulled over on the side of the highway at mile marker 47, just south of Little River. I had long been wanting to stop here, where I had so often seen vehicles parked on the side of the road, their owners strolling about 20 yards along the shoulder of the highway before disappearing into the brush. Where had they been going? Well, the cares of the day could wait; I was going to find out…
There is a bit of space on the shoulder for you to park right here at mile marker 47
I followed the narrow path that wound down along the side of the highway and out of view between the bushes. Ducking under a branch or two and being careful of my step on the uneven trail, all of a sudden I found myself looking out on a beautiful, rocky, secluded cove surrounded by cave-ridden cliffs and filled with the swelling sound of gentle waves breaking on the pebbly shore. Oh, how lovely! I felt an involuntary smile lighting up my face as I tried to drink it all in - picturesque moats of seaweed deposited by the tide, seagulls winging low above the waves, mini tide pools with tiny fish and myriad sea snails, craggy cliffs pocked with stately arches and mysterious caves, determined cypress trees clinging to the sides of the rock.
Funny, furry seaweed deposits left behind by the tide
If there had been more time, I would have simply sat down in that rocky cove and spent the rest of the morning there. There were a few private homes quietly looking out over the water with me, but other than that, there was no sign of humanity to be seen. I felt so marvelously alone, tucked away from the world and all the to-do’s and musts it contained. I wanted to climb the rocks and explore every corner of the tide pools. I wanted to peel off my sweaty socks and shoes and let the cold Pacific waters wash over my ankles. I wanted to sing something joyfully operatic into the ocean breeze that caressed my face.
Sea snails and tide pools
Alas, the world was tugging at the corner of my brain, my subconscious reminding me of all that was on that list I had so carefully written out yesterday in an attempt to be organized. I had to leave this little oasis soon. I headed back to the trail, and then turned around one last time before the bushes blocked my view once again. One more slow gaze around the entire cove, my heart filling up to the brim with the peaceful calm of the place, and I at last turned back to my car and the day ahead, ready to face the world.
If the name of the inn across the highway from this charming little spot is any indication, I believe my discovery of this morning must be named Buckhorn Cove.
While not terribly difficult to access, I would not recommend this mini excursion to anyone with any mobility issues, as the trail out to the cove is very narrow and rather uneven. There is also only space for a few cars to park on the side of the highway near mile marker 47 – if there are already a few there, you’ll probably want to come back later.
For additional secluded ocean access trails, check out this post from last summer.
Baby seaweed!
Words & pictures by Laura Hockett