Portuguese Beach
A mini adventure tucked into the Mendocino Headlands
Early morning glow above Portuguese Beach
I awoke early this morning to the intermittent chorus of frogs in the lush bushes below my window, those happy little critters singing joyous songs of breaking day as they lay hidden between leaves still dripping from yesterday’s rains. It was still dark outside, but I knew the first hints of dawn were coming soon, so I stretched, eased out of bed, and decided to indulge in one of my very favorite things – an early morning ramble. True, it is delightful to stay all cozied up in bed until the sun has fully risen and you have milked every last minute of repose that you can, but on the other hand… there is something truly magical about early morning. Sister to that mystical golden glow that hovers over evening, dawn holds its own hushed enchantment. Birds flit and twitter through bushes, a cottontail might dart past you on the trail, and as colors brighten and grow, all of nature seems to stretch and give a luxurious shake of the shoulders as it awakens from its nightly hibernation. And the best part of it all is that most people are yet in bed, which makes it feel like this glorious daily miracle is on display for you alone.
Oh, sunrise, you lovely thing
So today, with the world washed freshly clean and the air bracingly chill from an end of winter cold snap, I hopped in the car to make the short drive over to Mendocino. My goal for this beautiful morning: Portuguese Beach. While I knew that I could almost directly access this little cove by parking at the western end of Main Street, I wanted to get in a little more rambling, so I parked by the Presbyterian church and made my way down the dirt path behind it that starts the trail around the Mendocino Headlands State Park. The well-loved path made me smile as I quietly picked my way over the occasional gnarled root poking its way out before my feet – I’ve walked this path so many times that each twist and turn of the trail, each corner prone to squlechy mud or hiding the best view out over the water is like an old friend. Even in the halfway light of dawn, I could recognize the spots where different patches of wildflowers will come popping out through the coming months of spring and summer – rambling rose, iris, lupine, the river of calla lilies, watsonia, poppies, wild radish, salsify, scarlet pimpernel, and more.
As I rambled toward my goal, I stopped frequently to look back at the clear light breaking out over the Big River watershed and glimmering on the foam of waves that rolled along the beach. So lovely. Soon though, I found myself nearing the place where the trail meets up with the western end of Main Street. Portuguese Beach was almost right below me. Time for a little adventure!
I rounded the corner and began to pick my way down the path to the beach. The tide, while not high, was not particularly low, and I could see the hiss of the waves sometimes reaching up to the rocky outcroppings that divided the beach up into distinct sections. A twist of the precipitous little path later, and I could also see the last few yards of the wooden steps dangling off the slope sideways – I was in for a wee bit of scrambling!
There go the stairs off the edge…
The potential for slipping off the wet, gritty stones plus the need of avoiding the prickly blackberry vines that were hidden in the seemingly innocuous plants that I kept grabbing for slight support (more mental than physical, really) occupied my full attention for a few minutes, and then I was down amongst the first piles of driftwood. I say the first piles, because almost every inch of the little coves along this beach are full of wave-worn, shaggy logs and branches tossed up by the vagaries of the currents that run about the bay. I mounted one monster half-buried in the smooth sand and looked down the jumbled line of other old behemoths. In the dreamy light of morning, they looked like the long-forgotten bones of dinosaurs that were being slowly unearthed by the encroaching waves of the sea. I smiled at my fancies and gazed at the abrupt cliffs above me. Across one section, a broad swath of clinging nasturtium leaves veiled the running trickle of a fresh water spring that was making its way down the join the waves. I turned to follow its determined way across the sand and saw a cormorant watching me from where it bobbed just on the other side of the gentle waves. The sleek bird quickly ducked below the water before popping back up a few yards further on, cocking a bright eye at me again as it considered whether or not I would interrupt its solitary hunt for breakfast.
Logs like old fossils
I looked down, the occasional paw print in the sand the only sign of any other early morning perambulators. A flash of brown feathers in the corner of my eye hinted at a tiny bird that had decided to play hide and seek with me amongst the jumble of weathered driftwood as I meandered slowly back to the stairs. Once back at the top of the bluffs, I looked out over the now sun-bathed bay and the stirrings of a new day that were just starting up along the charming stretch of Main Street. What a beautiful morning. Beautiful. And it had all been for me.
A fun seaweed find marooned above the tideline
While Portuguese Beach is a lovely spot to explore, especially at lower tides when more of the rocky coves are accessible, it is not suitable for everyone due to the lack of stairs for the last couple of yards down. It’s not terribly tricky, but I would only advise it if you are up for a little undignified scrambling on the way down. The lack of stairs is generally easier to navigate on the way back up.
Words & pictures by Laura Hockett