Tag Archives: Point Reyes

Stranded sailors, and resting elephant seals.

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Daughter “Pippin” and her children were with me for a few happy days. The weather was not forecast to be friendly to our desire to be out of doors the way we like, but it cooperated in the end by bringing rain mostly while we slept, and we managed to go exploring all four days. It would take another full day of blogpost-crafting to tell you about everything that blessed my soul, but I want to share about two surprises we encountered.

At Point Reyes National Seashore, we made a wrong turn and ended up on Drakes Beach, where we thought we might as well get out for a minute and look, before we turned around to go to nearby Chimney Rock. The beach was mostly closed, because elephant seals were currently “pupping” there; several park staff were milling about near the temporary fence to tell us all about the animals. As of the 1st of March, this article says there were 870 weanlings on the Point Reyes beaches.

We watched this big guy above (4,000 to 5,000 pounds, they say) throwing sand onto his back to cool off, and wiggling his whole body down a little farther into his damp bed. It’s curious to watch oneself watching heavy animals doing mostly nothing; I think one reason we don’t get tired of staring is the principle of unpredictable rewards. They lie still for who knows how long — do I get vicarious enjoyment from just watching a seal seemingly sleeping like a log? — and it is rewarding to still be watching when suddenly they lumber across the beach a few feet, or merely lift their heads to check out how close the visitors are getting.

At one point a docent opened the fence and escorted us out on to the beach to get closer to the seals, while keeping at a safe distance. The gigantic males can move pretty quickly if they want, and we watched from afar as a couple of them challenged and threatened each other over territorial rights.

The day before our visit, the last female had left the beach after being impregnated, and it was expected that the males and pups would soon leave, too. In the meantime, they were resting, the pups living off their mothers’ milk of which they would get no more. They’d have to get out into the ocean pretty soon, and learn to find real food, not just whatever trash washed up on the beach. A volunteer was collecting trash even while we leaned against the fence, getting sunburned.

We didn’t go to Chimney Rock after that, but to visit the Point Reyes Lighthouse, where we walked down the 300+ steps and hiked back up again, after eating our picnic lunch beside the path.

Out there we looked at Leathery Polypody, Polypodium scouleri; and Orange Rock Hair, Trentepholia aurea.

The second surprise was the following day, when the ocean tides also were not as convenient as we might have hoped; the moderately low tide would not happen until about 7:00 p.m., and we went out to the coast again, hoping to find some tidepools to explore. At least, Daylight Savings Time was just recently in effect, so we would have sunlight.

What a wonder! After we’d hiked down the path, we realized that the dark ripples on the beach that we’d seen from above were fields of stranded Velella velella, or By-the-wind Sailors. Once upon a time I found one of these creatures on a beach, and it was very small. We never dreamed we’d see them like this, here on our North Coast beaches that are not typically so colorful.

They are described online thus: “This hydroid polyp remains afloat on the suface of the Pacific Ocean for most of its life. It never touches or even comes close to the ocean bottom, and the only stage in its life when it is completely submerged under water is the larval stage. The Velella velella begins its life in the middle of the Pacific Ocean, is brought by the wind to the shores, and is usually cast up on a beach where it dies and disentegrates.” source

Sailor with its sail up.

We had to wait around for a while for the tide to go out as far as it would, but what few tidepools we saw were mostly full of sailors.



Ivy and Jamie spent a lot of time collecting pebbles and pieces of shell, and sometimes running in the surf, which throughout the year ranges from 50-55 degrees in temperature.

When we returned home they left their treasures on the front walk, and in the morning sorted them carefully, asking me to choose some to keep. As they were packing up to leave for home, Jamie arranged mine where they will be a daily reminder of our beloved beach outings.

Kites fly high at Limantour.

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Even though his older brother is the one I call Pathfinder, my son Soldier took the lead in planning our family outing yesterday. Both of them wanted to include not only a hike but some  beach time, coming as they did from places where one can’t make a day trip to the ocean.

All eight of us were able to go in one car, which added to the fun. The children who had recently endured 12-hour days on the road were cheerful, even though it took us a while to get to our destination, a beach farther south than we usually venture: Limantour. The main thing I always retain in my memory of this beach is that it faces south, so it is a little warmer than many North Coast beaches. It is on a long spit of land on Drakes Bay, named for Sir Francis Drake. In the article, “Drake in California”, you can read the many keys to the identification of this bay as the place where the explorer thanked God for a safe haven.

This map shows you where we were in relation to San Francisco:

And this next one reveals Limantour Beach in the Point Reyes National Seashore:

We piled out of the car at the trailhead and hiked about two miles out to the beach, through dense woods opening up from time to time to views of the estuary and wide blue skies; irises in three shades of violet and purple dotted the sunnier banks. Under the trees stands of giant nettles extended back into the dappled shade, with swaths of forget-me-nots or candy flowers at their feet by the path.

Candy Flower – Claytonia sibirica

It was the sort of hike where Grandma, with one or two companions, falls behind the main group to examine and hopefully identify wildflowers, and then eventually catches up when the group stops to wait. Liam spied the Indian Paintbrush first.

The trail was bordered by a lush jungle of trailing blackberry and manroot, strawberries, buttercups and ocean spray. I couldn’t stop for everything that was interesting, and I can only mention a few of the hundreds of plants. But at the time, I pointed out to anyone who would listen, how conveniently the plantain herb was growing near the nettles: if you were to get a nettle sting, you might chew up a few plantain leaves into a poultice to put on the burning flesh to soothe it. Or so I’ve been told many times.

In spite of my lagging, we arrived on the beach and oh, what a lovely, clean and white expanse it was to behold; we didn’t pause, but walked right on out to the shore.

We had brought along three kites, so all the children had plenty of time
holding the fliers against the wind. It was a perfect day for that.

This one above, once it got up, flew by itself all afternoon at the end of its tether,
while we ate a picnic on the sand, and the men dug holes for the waves to flow into.

Then it was time to reel it in, and head back out the way we had come.


It was only on our way out that I had time to really notice these grand bushes of purple lupine, a relation no doubt of the big yellow version I’ve seen so much of farther north, and have even grown in my garden.

Almost the last thing I took a picture of was a baby rattlesnake lying still as could be on the path. It was too young to have rattles, but as we stood around looking at it, the other adults told us about how the shape of its head and neck helped them identify it as a rattlesnake, and how the venom of juveniles is very potent.

I couldn’t see his eye until I saw the picture I had taken enlarged; he was definitely alive and awake. We were told that rattlers aren’t able to strike effectively if they are not coiled up. But we moved on very soon, stepping around the rattleless tail.

My family all departed this morning very early, before the sun was up, and while fog was still lying low in the neighborhood. All day I’ve been reeling myself in! I had hoped to go to bed early tonight, but instead, before I move on into May — coming right up! — I wanted to finish my story of kites and wildflowers, and my dear people.