Every Trail Tells a Story
Sinkyone Wilderness State Park
To walk California’s only true Lost Coast.
To trade traffic noise for surf thunder.
To stand where elk, whales, and solitude still outnumber people.
Every hiker has a place that gets under their skin and never leaves. For me, that place is Sinkyone Wilderness State Park. Thirty-five years ago, long before it had the protection or attention it deserved, I volunteered to assist the one ranger and serve as camp host. January storms washed out the muddy road, cutting me off from the outside world. For ten days, it was just me, a drafty little cabin, the booming surf, and a herd of Roosevelt elk who treated me like the new guy in the neighborhood.
With the trails to myself, I walked every mile and created the first detailed map of the park’s footpaths-Trails of the Lost Coast-hoping others would follow my bootprints and join in protecting this extraordinary land. Those days sealed my love for Sinkyone, and when hikers ask me which California state park is my favorite, this is the one I name without hesitation.
Part of what makes Sinkyone so special is that it almost didn’t survive. For more than a century, the redwoods were logged, ranchers grazed the ridges, and homesteaders scraped out a living in this isolated corner of Mendocino County. What they couldn’t change was the ruggedness of the land. The mountains here rise almost straight out of the Pacific, and that impenetrable terrain forced Highway 1 inland. In doing so, it left behind California’s only true roadless coast-the Lost Coast, which stretches through Sinkyone and north into the BLM’s King Range Conservation Area.
Step onto the trail here and you quickly understand the name “Lost Coast.” There are no gift shops, no lattes, no fast Wi-Fi. Just miles of pounding surf, crumbling bluffs, and forests that feel half-forgotten by time. The ocean is not background music-it’s a constant, thundering drumbeat that shapes every moment of your hike.
Wildlife thrives in the absence of human intrusion. Roosevelt elk graze the prairies and sometimes wander right past campsites with a look that says, “Don’t mind us, we were here first.” Gray whales migrate offshore in winter and spring. Pelicans and gulls fill the skies. Even the eucalyptus groves, a relic of ranching days, lend a surreal accent to the wilderness.
Theologian Thomas Merton once dreamed of building a monastery at Needle Rock, believing this remote place ideal for prayer and contemplation. Standing on a bluff watching the surf explode against the rocks, you realize he wasn’t far off. Sinkyone is a cathedral, but one without walls or stained glass-only sky, sea, and the solemn company of ancient ridges.
It is not an easy place to reach, and that’s the point. Getting here means rattling along potholed dirt roads, hoping the rains haven’t turned them to impassable mud. But effort has its rewards. Hike the Lost Coast Trail and you’ll find a California that feels raw, elemental, and unspoiled.
From Highway 101, take either the Garberville or Redway exit and proceed to “downtown” Redway, located 3 miles north of Garberville on Business 101. Turn west on Briceland Road. After 12 miles of travel, fork left to Whitethorn. A mile or so past the hamlet of Whitethorn (don’t blink or you’ll miss it), the pavement ends, and you continue on a potholed dirt/mud road for 3.5 miles to a junction called Four Corners. Proceed straight ahead 3.5 miles to the Sinkyone Wilderness State Park Visitor Center. The park road is steep, winding, and only one lane wide. Maps and information are available at the visitor center.
Begin at the Needle Rock Visitor Center, once the Stewart family ranch house. Walk past the old barn, noticing the path that dips down to the beach and famed Needle Rock itself. Continue along the Lost Coast Trail, dipping in and out of a gully and passing Barn Camp and Streamside Camp, both walk-in campsites.
Cross Low Gap Creek on a bridge, then head toward the eucalyptus grove that shades the Jones Beach campsites. From here, the trail forks: left drops quickly to Jones Beach, right continues the Lost Coast Trail.
Take the right fork if you’re bound for Whale Gulch. The path traverses marshy ground, skirts cattail ponds, and climbs to higher bluffs with sweeping ocean views. Eventually you’re rewarded with a lofty overlook of Whale Gulch. A rough path descends to the lagoon and driftwood-strewn beach below-perfect for contemplation or just for sitting quietly, listening to the Pacific’s endless sermon.
Return the way you came, lungs full of sea air, ears still ringing with the boom of the surf, and maybe-if you’re lucky-an elk or two watching your retreat.