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The hike in from the Mattole Campground had all the natural elements the rugged Northern California Coast is known for.
Thick salty air wafted skyward in the perpetually stiff northwest winds. Thundering, unruly surf boomed on wave-battered reefs and lonely windswept beaches. And robust spotted harbor seals basked in the mild morning rays, slumbering away while thermoregulating along the North Coast.
Also known as the “Lost Coast,” this mostly untouched coastline is a bucket list backpack trip for many looking to explore 25 miles of roadless California shorelines just below the mighty and majestic King Range. However, just three miles south of the Mattole River Mouth and its campground, is one of the most remote lighthouses on the entire West Coast. It is known as “the Alcatraz of Lighthouses.”
On a Northern California map there are two prominent topographical protrusions extending into the Pacific Ocean. To the north is Cape Mendocino, and to its south is Punta Gorda, Spanish for substantial point. The two substantial points represent the farthest extension west than any other points along the Golden State’s 840 miles of lengthy shoreline.
Over the years, from 1868 to 1912, those two substantial headlands proved to be a treacherous stretch of coast that claimed many ships, some wreckage still seen there today. Between Shelter Cove north to Punta Gorda are many large, hidden submerged rocks, a sea captain’s nightmare navigating the North Coast. Besides huge surf and strong winds, fog also played its part in disorienting sea captains, especially at night when the fog hugged the steep faces of the King Range. It made conditions especially dark.
Cape Mendocino Lighthouse was established in 1868, but another 20 years went by before funds were requested from Congress to construct a lighthouse at Punta Gorda. As shipwrecks continued to mount, a road was built from Mattole to Windy Point. The lighthouse was built in 1911 and active at the prominent point in 1912.
Soaking in the North Coast
As I hiked along the coast, I could feel the perpetual northwest winds pushing me south toward Punta Gorda. Hardy cormorants, preening brown pelicans, and raucous gulls held their ground on thick seabird guano-covered rock outcrops. Opportunistic turkey vultures hovered and swooped over deserted beaches hoping to scavenge whatever the sea provided. It was just another day along the Lost Coast, and I was reveling in its remote beauty.
It was late September, and there were just a couple backpackers along the Lost Coast. Most hikers and backpackers visit the Lost Coast in the summer, so I was grateful for its solitude. The Lost Coast is blessed with 12 year-round, free-flowing creeks, and between those creeks are many seeps of naturally filtered water spilling out of eroding shale bluffs. So, carrying much water wasn’t necessary along the entire coastal route.
After another easy creek crossing, I looked up into the morning sun where wispy fog swirled around Punta Gorda. The lighthouse was situated just above a low-lying bluff not far from the surf. It was easy to imagine the surf with a big, surging high tide becoming an issue for the survival of the lighthouse. King Tides with an accompanying storm surge appeared potentially troublesome.
A perfect indicator was the group of young northern elephant seals carving out yet another breeding colony on the California Coast, the one at Punta Gorda established in 2015, and representing the furthest north in their range. Their loud bellows could be heard up and down the beach. Currently, there’s about 800 animals that use the rookery for breeding, birthing, and the large males defending their harems and territory. And that number will continue to rise.
However, when those big winter storms hammer the Lost Coast, many of the northern elephant seals, especially their pups galumph up onto the low-lying bluff next to the lighthouse. They molt in the spring, and along the trail below the lighthouse patches of their old fur were found north and south of Punta Gorda.
Still Standing
I was expecting to see a dilapidated, lonely, and forgotten light station that the U.S. Coast Guard closed for good in May 1951. At the time, it was deemed to be too remote to man and maintain. Punta Gorda had ceased operations and was left to weather the elements of the Lost Coast.
The Coast Guard transferred lighthouse duties to the Bureau of Land Management (BLM). In the 1960s several of the old buildings were claimed by squatters. Who could blame them though? It’s beautiful out there with plenty of fresh water, and the ocean providing a consistent bounty of seafood. After several attempts to remove the squatters, BLM burned down all the wooden structures. All that remains today is the lighthouse, oil house, and a couple of old cement foundations.
The good news is the lighthouse is in great shape. It looked as if it had recently been painted. A new circular staircase had been installed providing easy access to the top. From there, stellar views north and south of the Lost Coast stretched as far as I could see. Any cracks in the walls had been repaired, allowing the lighthouse to endure over time. In 2020, President Trump enacted the Great American Outdoors Act, providing funds to repair and maintain structures such as lighthouses on public lands. In 2022/23, the Punta Gorda Lighthouse received its facelift, rehabilitating a lighthouse left to deteriorate along the Lost Coast.
I had about 22 miles to go before reaching Shelter Cove. After exploring the Punta Gorda Lighthouse, I threw my 60-pound backpack over my shoulder, and trekked southward in soft black sand, the lighthouse and the elephants seals in my rearview mirror.
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