Possibly the best time to visit Point Reyes National Seashore north of San Francisco, California, is during Spring (March - May). If you are early, and visit in March, you have a very high probability of sighting the gray whales as they make their way back from Baja, Mexico to the freezing Alaskan waters. If you visit during mid-spring, you get a chance to experience the pupping season for the elephant seals. Towards late spring, widlflowers bloom all across the Seashore making it colorful and rugged simultaneously.

Our trip took us into the middle of the blooms. We were too late for the whale migration (the sighting count being 4 for the day we visited the Lighthouse). Moreover, both Rachna and I lack the patience that is the hallmark of a whale-watcher and a naturalist. Even then, we decided to hit the signature Point Reyes Lighhouse trail before anything else. Highway 1 all the way from Stinson Beach to the Seashore was aesthetic, but not as impressive as the stretch near Big Sur. Nevertheless, it takes you straight into the Park, from where you take Sir Francis Drake Boulevard towards the Lighthouse, which is at the tip of the Point Reyes isthimus.

The worst roads of any National Park plough you through countless farms, which have been leased out to farmers after the seashore became a part of the National Park Service. An agonizing and boring 45 minutes later, we finally reached the Lighthouse parking lot. The detrimental effects of the proximity to the San Francisco, Bay Area were clearly visible everywhere. Overtly crowded with tourists blaring their cheap car stereo, the parking lot was overflowing by a mile. Picnickers were scurrying all over the lot trying to grab their jackets as they were hit by the icy Pacific breeze. Very colorful and festive, but definitely not what I had expected of a National Park.

A windy 308 steps later (and staring at the agony of the people climbing back up), we were standing at the historic Lighthouse sounding its foghorn across the infinite Pacific. It must have been a terrible job listening to the crashing waves all through the night, ocassionally tossing a ship or two to the rocky shore below. A quick survey of the old machinery, and we were off on our way back to the top. It wasn't too bad, though we had to make one stop to recover from all that grease that has been blocking our arteries over the years. Back on high ground, it was time for lunch, and to pump in more of that grease into the bloodstream.

The Point Reyes Lighthouse

The Lighthouse provided one of the most spectacular views of the seashore. Morning fog usually limits visibility till the straight edge of the coastline, hindering views of beaches such as McClure's, which fall behind the bend. But, to get the most colorful display of wildflowers, you have to take the Chimney Rock trail in Spring. The trailhead can be reached by a one-lane road just a few miles from the Lighthouse. This narrow detour surprisingly has no visible signs if you approach it from the west. You just take the first available narrow road to your right, or just follow the loud tourists.

If you thought the Lighthouse was crowded, you should visit the Chimney Rock trail during Spring. The place was teeming with photographers carrying their megabuck 600mm primes and macros for the wildflower display. No, I was not jealous carrying my puny digital point-and-shoot and a cheap zoom on my newly acquired Elan 7E. I was merely filled with admiration. I counted at least 30 megabuck-macro-carrying species right in the parking lot, out of which 15 or so seemed to belong to a photography club, as they huddled close together trying to capture the same subjects.

Wildflowers in bloom at Point Reyes

From the same trailhead, a short detour takes you to the Elephant Seal Overlook, which is worth the visit during the pupping season. You won't come face to face with the seals, but you do get to see them drying themselves on the sandy shore. Along the Chimney Rock trail, the first few yards are quite uninteresting. As you tread deeper, you find photographers clinging to the hillside, swarming over meadows, and lying on Poison Oak, trying to capture the ephemeral burst of color. Rachna and I are chicken enough not to try any of those activities - I dread Poison Oak, and I have nightmares about falling off a cliff. So we stood over the flowers by the wayside, and took the worst images of wildflowers in the glaring mid-afternoon sun. And of course we blamed the results on the lack of a megabuck macro lens.

Chimney Rock itself wasn't very impressive, so you could skip the trail if you aren't visiting in Spring. By the time we got back to the parking lot, the notorious late afternoon Pacific coast fog had rolled in, and it was barely 4:00 pm. Our plan was to stay at McClure's beach on the northern tip of the isthimus, for sunset, but that seemed pointless now. So we headed towards the Bear Valley Visitor Center to take the very touristy Earthquake and Kuelo Loko trails.

Pacific Fog

Elephant Seal Overlook

The Earthquake trail leads you through an interpretive 0.7 miles of lush green foliage. Of interest are artifacts such as shifted fences and barns which convey the power of an 8.3 magnitude earthquake which shook San Francisco back in 1906. What really concerned me was the calculation that it would take 30,000 minor quakes of magnitude 5.3 or so to quell the energy which has built up along the San Andreas fault over the past century. Since we haven't seen too many of these minor quakes, the Big One will probably be nastier than we have imagined.

By the time we traversed the Earthquake trail, it had become sufficiently dark owing to the thick evening fog. So we headed back to San Rafael, where we had managed to purchase an excellent hotel room deal through Priceline (I don't work for them, get no commission, just a happy customer). Sir Francis Drake Boulevard to San Rafael is very much like Highway 84 in the Bay Area - curvy, and dark. It passes through Samuel P Taylor State Park, which seemed to deserve a visit. San Rafael downtown looked incredibly rich and reminded me of Carmel-by-the-Sea, but seemed to have lesser pretensions.

The next morning we took Sir Francis Drake Boulevard through Samuel P Taylor State Park back to Point Reyes. The State Park definitely needs a visit. We reached the Bear Valley center by noon, and were informed that 12-2 pm was probably the best time to go tidepooling on the numerous rocky beaches. Tidepooling doesn't show up on Merriam-Webster's website. It probably means hunting for sea creatures left behind on the shore when the tide is low. These creatures range from relatively uninteresting limpets and barnacles to the very intriguing starfish and sea urchins.

McClure's Beach is quite far away (in spirit and distance) from the touristy Lighthouse and Chimney Rock trails. In fact, it is at the northern tip of the Seashore, closer to Bodega Bay than to Point Reyes Station. The drive to McClure's is quite scenic and serene, with less traffic and lesser ranches. From the trailhead to the beach is a very scenic, steep 300 foot drop over 0.5 miles. The beach itself provides one of the more attractive vistas in the Park. The flat and sandy center is ideal for sublime relaxation, as the rocky edges of the beach protect you from the gushing winds. But it is at these rocky ends that you have the most fun tidepooling.

Fifteen futile minutes later, Rachna spotted the first purple sea star clinging to the purple rocks, exposed. Within seconds, I found another one inches from the first. It took us 5 minutes to find the third and last. It took a mis-step from Rachna to discover the fractally infinite and well-camouflaged sea anemone colony. Their sizes ranged from millimeters small to inches large. It took us half-a-minute more to discover the rock faces strewn with a mollusk colony. Whatever little courage I had in my mind pro-snorkling were eliminated completely that morning. Man was built to stay on land for a reason.

We had lunch at exposed seaworld, and then headed back. On our way to the Bear Valley center, we found the photography club heading towards McClure's - ready to point those megabuck macros at the teeming sealife. No luck this time eh? The tide had probably rolled in already, and would cover up everything by the time they reach the beach. Back at Bear Valley, the only other point I really wanted to visit was the Point Reyes Bird Observatory, but after hearing that a part of the stretch involved gravel roads, I quickly backed out. I wasn't going to torture my Celica through unhealthy dust. So it was back to Highway 1, and through the Golden Gate Bridge into the humdrum of San Jose.