Navarro River Beach
A quiet stroll to the south
Curling waves along the sand
It’s a moody evening out here on Navarro Beach. The day started out fairly gray earlier this morning, migrating gradually into sunshiny warmth, and now has reverted back to the lowering mass of clouds so typical to Mendocino winter. These clouds seem at first glance to be a solid sweep of gray, and yet they are actually subtly textured and shifting – I can see them all drifting at different rates across the sky, merging into and separating out of other blurry lines of gray around them. As a whole, they block out most of the heavens’ dome above, with but the faintest sliver of pink along the horizon, where the sun is slowly sinking down to its nighttime of rest.
Wind-brushed grasses greet you as you exit your car
The turbid waters below mirror the clouds overhead with their gray-green waves, muddied slightly by the sand they churn up as they toss and heave themselves in giant curls along the beach. Their continuous rumbling mutter breaks out over and again as they lift their heads in glorious sprays and spume, crashing into each other and the seemingly solid bulk of the coastline, which I know irresistibly bows over course of time to the raw power of the sea. It makes me giddy to watch these wintertime waves as they pound the rocks and reshape the beach’s outline in all their blatant power, unharnessed and wild.
Interesting driftwood everywhere you look
I look to the north, where a cliff hems in the view, little twin points of light giving tell to the cars winding their way up and around the corner as they head north on Highway 1. Below the tree-clad cliffside, an arm of scattered rocks reaches out to sea, gradually diminishing in size until it is completely covered by the surging waves. I turn my feet to the south, towards the jagged rocks that look like giant sharks’ teeth marking the other extreme of the beach.
Pictures can never do full justice to the power of the waves
As I walk near the water, creamy fingers of foam careen up the sand toward my toes, seeking I’m sure to grab and pull me in… or at least give me a good soaking. The pebbly sand gives softly way beneath my soles as I shift my course a little farther from the water’s edge. A dog barks happily to its owner, who is calling it back from where it has run off amongst the intriguing piles of driftwood that lie above the lower flats I’m walking on. I can see the owner through the dimming light, a fellow pilgrim intent on soaking up as much of this moody day’s last bit of moody beauty as possible. Mighty logs, twisted limbs, and gnarled root balls make up the driftwood maze that the dog is thoroughly enjoying. Teepees and forts of driftwood pieces artfully leaned up against each other rise from the jumble and speak of the fun that other, two-legged creatures have been having amongst the maze as well.
Looking towards the north end of the beach
Having reached the southern end of the beach, I stand for a while and watch that lonely sliver of pink along the horizon fading into soft tangerine. My fingers dive deeper into my pockets, and my chin snuggles down into my scarf… and yet it’s hard to leave. It’s beautiful, so beautiful. I want to linger until the last bit of light is gone. I want to linger as long as I can, drinking in deep, slow draughts of salt-scented air. This is what I love to do and yet so seldom allow to myself for some reason. Too seldom do I give myself the pleasure of walking slowly along the sea and sipping on the heady wine of the ocean’s spray. Too seldom. So even though the sun has finally set and that faint tangerine is steadily merging with the sea; even though the rushing foam of the waves on the sand is beginning to glow with a peculiar nighttime brilliancy against the deepening black all around it; I slow my steps as I turn back toward my car and the electric lights and propane heat of home. I let the tumbles of driftwood, tossed about by the different eddies and swirls of storms and high tides over the years, slow down my progress with meandering twists and turns. I savor the stretch of my legs and the way the sand crunches under my shoes. I pause and look out one last time. What a perfect winter evening for a quiet stroll.
Seen from above earlier in the day - try to imagine it without the utility lines swooping across the view!
Navarro Beach is at the western end of the Navarro Redwoods State Park, where the Navarro River reaches the sea. It is always a little bit different every time you go, with the sand bar across the mouth of the river building up and then getting washed away on a regular basis. In summer, when low tide can get really low, you can walk a fairly long way from the cliff on the north end down into the rocks along the south end. It’s worth a visit any time of year though!
Words & pictures by Laura Hockett