With full summer striking us, consider looking away from the scorching backcountry and seek hikes above or upon local beaches — especially places that the maddening crowds haven’t yet fully discovered.

I’ve always enjoyed hiking to and on isolated bluffs and promontories above the sea. It could be trekking along Point Lobos and staring straight down into the ocean, SCUBA diving off Palos Verdes Peninsula (beneath huge sea cliffs), or walking with my partner upon the mellow Ellwood Mesa (bluffs) in Goleta.

One reaps a startling rush and a momentary epiphany while treading above crashing waves in a salty wind as exuberant shorebirds soar above all the while.

An organic interface among three natural elements — sea, sky and an earthen trail along the cliff — can break the urban inertia and inspire wild thoughts. Irish poet Aubrey de Vere admires the great cliffs of Kilkee:

“Awfully beautiful art thou, O sea!   
Viewed from the vantage of these giant rocks   
That vast in air lift their primeval blocks,   
Screening the sandy cove of lone Kilkee.“

As stark symbols holding fast against Poseidon’s encroaching waves, the seacliff-ocean marriage also provides an intriguing trinity of ideas. The origins of life were most likely in water; the maternal sea and masculine headlands constantly clash; and land forms emerge from the primal ooze as described in the Mesopotamian creation epic “Enuma Elis (When Above).”

Although the isolated Naples Bluff area is only a few miles past Goleta on the Gaviota Coast, it qualifies as “remote” for me since in my rambles there I’ve never met anyone else at this place.

Wild Pete and I were once again the only nature-worshippers enjoying this secluded splendor on July 28, drinking in the squeals of shorebirds and inhaling great draughts of salty, cleansed ocean air.

Park your vehicle close to the Highway 101 South sign, then look about and locate the small path that leads onto the crumbling pavement of the old coastal Highway 1.

After a half-mile, the wrecked asphalt bears hard right, leading directly south toward the ocean. From late-19th-century developers’ dreams, this decayed “road” was once named Lily Langtry Lane after the famous actress. World travelers and developers John and Alice Williams attempted to create the new town of Naples here around 1887, and there have been sporadic real estate efforts ever since.

Tom Modugno tells the full story of wide-eyed developers like the Williamses and the hopes for a railroad station and boomtown at this gorgeous headland. There’s even a fake Naples Railroad Station model still on the site.

Along Langtry Lane, we could already smell the sea, and I heard the cries of various shorebirds.

After passing through one gate, we came to the second gate pictured here with the hypnotic sea glimmering blue in the distance. The bent pole at the left of this gate that has always been this way allows one to slip through and continue walking toward the water.

We noticed a small barranca (arroyo) cutting down to the beach but first wandered out to the blufftops where the great half-dome of blue sky towered over the low tide. There were still trailing clouds, and we could not make out Santa Rosa Island, but we were struck by the bared inter-tidal zone that had attracted many birds.

Below, we observed broken and spent lobster bodies and hundreds of healthy tidepools. The variety of birds feeding in these exposed intertidal pools drew our attention, and even a non-birder such as myself could make out the brown pelican, snowy plovers and black cormorants shown in the photograph below.

We circled back a bit along the narrow blufftop and took the obvious trail down into that larger barranca mentioned earlier and followed it through the cliff to the vast ocean below. I needed my twin sticks and my very heavy boots with sharp lugs since the rocky trail down narrowed and became slippery.

Closer to the shore, we found another smaller, unlockable gate obviously meant to keep cattle from lumbering onto the beach.

Almost there, we paused to enjoy the view, and I could hear a seal barking out there. This last 40 feet makes the beach part too difficult for some less supple hikers.

You will definitely need the sturdy rope that is barely visible in the photograph above.

I managed the very steep descent only by wielding my twin poles on the way down; but on the return later, I had to pull myself up using this excellent, knotted and taut rope — but otherwise … it’s a very long hike back to the Ellwood Bluffs and western Goleta!

Once down on the pristine beach, we rambled and floated through the midmorning and met a couple on the beach walking our way accompanied by a three-legged black dog.

The avian flocks abounded, while caws and cries mixed with the slap of ocean waves. The tide was very low, and some of the seaweed had turned a brilliant green.

After about three miles of easy beach walking east, we turned around and eventually spotted our arroyo with the white rope and very carefully clambered up.

My ancient hands had some trouble gripping the ropes’ convenient knots, so next time I’ll wear gloves.

The last stanza of “The Sea-Cliffs of Kilkee” contains lines about the commingled cliff, sky and sea:

“Cloud-like they sweep the long wave’s sapphire gleam,      
Ere the poised osprey stoop in wrath from high.   
Here man, alone, is naught; Nature supreme, 
Where all is simply great that meets the eye —   
The precipice, the ocean, and the sky.“

4.1.1.

Driving: Head north on Highway 101 to the Dos Pueblos Canyon Road exit, then drive the wending Naples Access Road under the freeway and end up heading back south for about two miles until reaching the sign for re-entering Highway 101 South. Park right there, near the highway entrance.

Irish poet Aubrey De Vere’s “The Sea-Cliffs of Kilkee” was written in 1846 (Kilkee in County Clare, Ireland, is the site of spectacular sea cliffs). Point Lobos State Natural Reserve is in Monterey, California.

On the fascinating history of the twisted “Naples Development Co.” and its real estate shenanigans, see Tom Modugno’s comprehensive article here. The saga of attempted development at Naples goes on today, but robust public opposition holds it back. On European settlers’ Dos Pueblos, see Walker A. Tompkins, “Santa Barbara’s Royal Rancho: The Fabulous History of Los Dos Pueblos (1987).”