The Lost Coast

Exploring a relatively unknown, small creek on California’s remote North Coast, where the Elk far out-numbered the people, I find what I’m looking for. 

Creek at my feet, ocean on the horizon. Fog so thick you could slice it. It’s taken long hikes, late-nights staring at maps, conversations with locals who can best be described as “rough around the edges,” and too many hours behind the wheel to get here. The fish have had a far more difficult journey to meet me. Dodging seals and shit…

After an hour they were gone. The fish, the elk, the fog, the magic. Part of the allure in chasing these anadromous fish I guess. Here for the moment and gone the next. Then and now. You know, like most special things are?