And we’re back for round 2 in Point Reyes! In the previous article we got ourselves all the way up here from San Francisco and then explored some of the more southerly areas of this huge nature preserve. In this chapter, we’re going to go all the way to the northernmost tip of Point Reyes: Tomales Point. This was hands-down the most beautiful place I visited in 2021.
Then again, I spent a lot of 2021 cooped up because of COVID, so the bar was set pretty damn low… but it really was cool.
Tomales Point
The northern side of the Point Reyes National Seashore area comes to an extremely sharp point. And it’s called Tomales Point. It’s an interesting piece of cartography to be sure, but what makes this place even more interesting lies deep underground. The long inlet that separates Tomales Point from mainland California is actually the San Andreas Fault. You’ve heard of that right? The giant fault line that is supposedly overdue for a massive earthquake that could destroy both LA and the Bay Area at literally any moment?
Well we’re going to be spending a lot of time on that fault line today. Although, out here away from the city, it all feels pretty benign. And honestly, even in the city, whenever people bring up San Francisco’s impending doomsday, I struggle to care. In the immortal words of Lucille Bluth, “I’d rather be dead in California than alive in Arizona.” 💅
Anywho, let’s get back on topic. Here’s a map of the route we took from our little cottage in Inverness to get up to the Tomales Point trailhead. And below that, are some pictures that I snapped along this GORGEOUS and remote stretch of road. The pictures that look back down the Point Reyes coastline show the venue of our previous article jutting out into the sea off in the distance. This is the rock formation that the Point Reyes Lighthouse illuminates.
Hiking From Pierce Ranch
You can’t actually drive all the way out to Tomales Point. There’s a parking lot and a trailhead next to the historic Pierce Ranch. From there, it’s a 9.4-mile round trip hike to get all the way out to the tip and back. Over the course of this route, there’s a total elevation gain of 1,177 feet. Honestly, it’s a pretty easy hike. I did this when I was fresh off a particularly rough COVID infection, still trying to get my mojo back, so this should give you no pause. Here’s an AllTrails link for more information on it.
The views were immediately stunning as we got out onto the trail and began climbing onto the ridge that runs the length of Tomales Point. Even in November, the warm Californian sun lit this place up and reflected brightly off the ocean, which stretched out endlessly before us. The sound of the wind and the Pacific Ocean crashing against the rocky cliffs below us served as ambient background noise to the conversations we had about the wildlife that we saw. There were all sorts of colorful birds flying around in the scraggly grass and circling overhead, but most hikers on the trail were spending the majority of their focus staring out at the ocean in hopes of catching a glimpse of a whale. They were tough to spot, but if you kept an eye on the horizon for a few minutes, you were sure to notice tall spouts of white water shooting up from the sea, catching the sun. Once I knew what I was looking for, it felt like they were everywhere. There must have been hundreds of whales swimming just offshore. The earth is so cool.
The whales and the birds were cool, but the MAIN animal that I was hoping to spot was a Tule Elk. Tule Elk are one of just two species of Elk that are native to California, and they are actually endemic to California, which means that they live ONLY here. When us white folk first got out here, we hunted them to the brink of extinction. Apparently, by the mid-1800s, most people believed that they actually were extinct until a rancher discovered a single herd of fewer than 30 Tule Elk near Bakersfield. He took steps to protect them, and thanks to him their numbers have grown to about 5,700 (as of 2020). And every single of one of them is apparently descended from that last herd that the rancher found. That rancher’s name was Henry Miller—so 3 cheers for him! ❤️
In the 1970s, ten of these Tule Elk (eight females and two males) were reintroduced to Point Reyes, and Tomales Point has served as a preserve for them ever since, although they can be found everywhere in Point Reyes.
So I was PUMPED to see some Elk out here! But after like an hour of walking, I had seen diddly squat. Then, at the top of a hill, BOOM there they all were. It was a whole herd of them, unceremoniously grazing just 20 feet from the path. The herd was mostly females, but there was one big male with a huge set of antlers in the mix. It was actually pretty intimidating. I walked pretty far off the path to flank this big boy and get some different angles of him with my camera. He definitely made prolonged eye contact with me at multiple points. However, I wasn’t the only one staring at him. A small cluster of hikers had formed to watch the Elk hang out up here. The male seemed to be patrolling, guarding the herd. I have no doubt he would have charged somebody if they got too close, but nobody was dumb enough to push the envelope. I do think I got some pretty cool pictures though. Take a look at these! These Elk actually have some pretty distinct facial features, right?
I feel like I hadn’t seen a single Elk up until this point, but after passing this big heard, suddenly I was spotting Elk everywhere, grazing off in the distance in valleys and on ridges. I began snapping long-distance photos of them whenever I saw them. By the time we got back to our car, we must have seen 20-25 of them total. And I continued to spot them off in the distance for the remainder of my time in Point Reyes. I guess it’s like spotting the whales’ water spouts out in the ocean: you just have to know what you’re looking for.
Kehoe Beach
Just a short drive south down the road from the trailhead for Tomales Point is Kehoe Beach. The distance from the road to the actual beach is short, but it’s an interesting 20 minutes of walking. In the beginning, it’s an easy walk on an easy-to-follow path, but just before you get to the beach the trail gives way to a maze of tall beach grass and sand dunes. I saw somebody’s sandals sitting on a tuft of grass, so I took the cue and did the rest of the hike to the beach in bare feet. It mostly worked out for me. 😂
Kehoe Beach itself was wonderful. It’s a long, straight, sandy coastline, and you can see almost the entire length of Point Reyes from north to south standing out here. Looking down the coast, the sun and the sea spray create some mist that serves as a picturesque veil for faraway land formations. That day, in late afternoon, the sun was illuminating the sand and the mist in such a way that the whole area was shades in hues of gold. In many ways, it felt like the quintessential California beach scene.
Off in the distance, people were silhouetted against the gorgeous backdrop as they walked down the beach in pairs. Near the waves, there was a capsized rowboat tied up next to a tidal river that cut back up towards the beach grass and sand dunes. As the waves washed up on the sand and then retreated back, troops of Sanderlings (little birds) scurried back and forth, their mirror images reflected in the wet sand below their tiny feet.
This was one of those rare moments for me that felt truly idyllic. I knew that I wasn’t going to see anything this pretty for quite some time; that this might, in fact, be one of the prettiest places I’d ever have the pleasure of seeing. As I finally write this, 4 months later, I still have no clue when the next time I’ll be somewhere this pretty will be. I remember thinking similar things during that sunset in Taormina, Sicily a few years ago. And those things were definitely true. You have to soak these moments while you can! Travel is a hassle. This is what makes it worth it.
On the way back from this beach, I actually snapped a lot of other photos, so I might as well share them. There was a hawk, a coyote, and a flock of dairy cows. I saw a lot of animals this day.
Peter’s Perspective
Back at the house that night, the temperature had dropped considerably but my brother and I spent some time out on the deck playing with our cameras to attempt the capture the starry skies that looked down on Point Reyes. He’s much better at this kind of stuff than me, but I think my camera got a couple of halfway decent shots. Astrophotography will be the hobby I pick up in retirement.
Here’s a thought. I rarely get to see stars this bright because I am a “city slicker.” And most of us nowadays are city slickers. And everybody knows that because of all the city lights, you typically can’t see much of the stars—if anything at all—from the city. Growing up in the urban Midwest, I remember looking up at the sky in the middle of the night and seeing a blotchy, uneasy shade of red where the stars used to be. That, folks, is what light pollution looks like.
So most people don’t get to see the stars that often, and that’s just the way it is. But we are actually one of the first generations for whom this is the case. The earliest electrification of cities happened in 1882, and 50 years later (in the 1920s) at least half of all U.S. cities were still using gas lamps. So it has been less than 100 years since the world switched on the lights for good. My grandparents were born into a world where most people could still see the stars.
THAT MEANS that for ALL of human history, no matter where people were, when they looked up at the night skies, the stars were ALWAYS this bright. And I don’t just mean in the “before” times when people were still hunters and gatherers. I mean that when people looked up from city streets—until very recently—they saw a bright sky full of stars over their heads. Think about that. At night, in the streets of ancient Babylon and La Belle Époque Paris alike, city-dwellers would look up and see bright stars like these as the backdrop for their worlds as the default. This was one of the few human experiences that was truly universal.
We’re some of the first people for whom this is not true.
Kind of sad, right?
One thing I have learned through COVID is the continued importance of human beings having a connection to nature. I am (or, was) one of the least outdoorsy people you will ever meet, but maybe that is changing because, MAN—I feel so rejuvenated after a walk through the forest. Here’s a fun fact for you. Apparently, studies have shown that rates of domestic violence are statistically lower in households that are EVEN WITHIN SIGHT OF A TREE. That should tell you something about what humans need.
This was the final article from 2021. The Omicron variant was first reported while I was out here so I didn’t hear about it until I got home. Things took a turn for a while after that, so I’m glad we got to squeeze this trip in. From there I flew back to my cold, easterly dwelling where I would hunker down for the frigid germ-infested darkness of winter, but I thought back on this day often.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Peter was born & raised in Columbus, Ohio, and started this blog when he moved from Boston to Hanoi (Vietnam) in 2014. After years based in Nashville working on his band, The Great Palumbo, he now resides in London, UK.
