A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast. 
A scenic snapshot from a visit to the Gaviota Coast.
It’s a sunny day, hot in the wide plains and foothills of the Goleta Valley, a welcome surprise this far into November. Ninety degrees in mid-November? Crazy.
I’m heading out to the Gaviota Coast for a beach walk. My destination: the Observation Point at the mouth of Arroyo Hondo Creek.
I pass the turnoff to Winchester Canyon. I can already feel my shoulders relax. In a blink, the surroundings transform, the hundreds of new homes left behind, the last of the tracks in my rearview mirror.
Moments later, the surroundings transform to a more ruler character, the flatter topography giving way to rolling hills. I’m amazed. Last week’s rain has greened them up. I’m thinking emerald green the likes of an Irish countryside by Christmas.
Eased in Gently
The hills reach down to the highway, soft and rounded by centuries of wear, gentle enough to support vast stretches of avocado, a scattering of estate homes and the occasional ranch buildings and farming equipment and a decent amount of cattle grazing.
It’s as if I’m being eased into the Gaviota Coast experience. Farther west the hills steepen, the canyons grow deeper and the highway leads closer and closer to the the ocean coastline.
This is the Gaviota I love — a rough, rugged, sandstone filled heart of the coast. Rock upthrust almost vertically, layer after layer of bedrock form short, steep canyons and almost impossible waterfalls. Nature’s way of saying, “No Trespassing.”
Date with a Friend
I think of the beach below the Observation Point as an old friend, one I visit a few times a year, a pilgrimage of sorts.
Today is a special visit, just a few weeks after the Alisal Fire scorched the interior of the Arroyo Hondo watershed from the mountain crest down to the cliffs on the ocean’s edge. This was a chance to see how things look.
The trailhead down to the beach doesn’t have a name, but getting there is simple: Continue on to the Mariposa Reina overpass, head back south on Highway 101 to the Observation Point and park near the railroad trestles. You’re there.
A month ago, I was watching fire crews hustling along the railroad tracks frantically trying to hose down fire on the side of the cliffs. Smoke was coming up from beneath the trestles, a hint of flame licking at the lower supports. Fortunately, there was more smoke than fire.
Primal Views
While the Observation Point serves as a well-needed rest stop for the rare few who are to take a break from their frantic rush southward, it’s the view that sets it apart.
It’s an incredible view. The type of view that urges a more primal need — to explore, to unleash that sense of adventure, to unlock the need to see what’s beyond.
Stretching far into the distance the vertical cliffs recede into the distance, both north and south. The coastline has an undulating feel to it, long curving lines of cliff broken by small points that extend seaward.
Though not that prominent, they serve an important function: unspoken lessons about how to live quietly and wisely. The first of these is an important one: Venture out on a rising tide on the Gaviota Coast and you’re apt to get stuck.
Another is to check the tides online and come an hour or so before its lost point. That way you’ll have more time to explore.
A Welcome Challenge
Like a good part of the Gaviota Coast, getting from the parking area down to the ocean’s edge is not easy. Here it requires crossing the railroad tracks, wading through a thicket of sage down a slippery, precipitous path under the tracks.
Next is a set of 20 steps so narrow and precipitous that I often find myself sitting down and scooting. Old knees don’t bend so well. Finally I’m down, make my way through the cobblestones to the wet sand and savor the feeling.
“Hello, my friend,” I say quietly as I reach the water’s edge, good to be back.
Minus Tide Days
One of the things I’ve learned to like about winter walks on the Gaviota beaches is the abundance of days with minus tides. That provides access to beaches like the Trestles as well as the opportunity to explore farther than otherwise.
With a shuttle it’s even possible to walk long stretches of the coastline without having to double back. One of my favorites is from Gaviota State Park to the Observation Point; it's six miles total and as quiet and peaceful as can be.
To the south, a long seawall stretches into the distance. This not only protects the hillside from slumping down onto the beach, but at higher tides walking along the top is the only way south.
Ahead of me I spot several fishermen, perched on a wider section, casting out as the waves break below them.
There’s something quite intriguing about their efforts. I look into their buckets and see they’ve not caught anything yet, but I think that does not matter. It’s just being out here, working with what the ocean gives them that counts.
Heading West
Most of the time I head west from the trestles. Immediately after crossing the Arroyo Hondo Creek, a series of upthrust rocks create a minor challenge to get past.
Fortunately, these only last for a few hundred yards. From there, it’s a half-mile or so to the first of the points, just about the right distance for an afternoon walk. At a 2.0 tide, it’s easy to continue on. But beware, you won’t make it back if the tide gets too much higher.
Observation Point Observations
If I have enough time, I always try to head over to the abandoned arch bridge that parallels the railroad track trestle. It’s made of cement but in the late day sun it glistens.
The arches are beautiful, a series of graceful curved forms characteristic of a California architectural style used when building with character actually meant something.
Built in 1918 by the California Highway Commission, the predecessor to Caltrans as part of a project to modernize the highway system, the bridge served two-way traffic until 1950 and from then to 1984 as the southbound lane.
The span is incredible, a little less than 200 yards long. It’s a full 10-minute walk across and back. At the midpoint, Arroyo Hondo Creek is directly below. Its quiet waters often flow year-round thanks to the massive width and depth of the upper canyon.
To the south, the railroad trestle frames a small pool at the mouth of the creek. A steelhead ladder has been added by The Land Trust for Santa Barbara County, owner of the majority of Arroyo Hondo Canyon, to encourage their migrations upstream.
It is a good place to stop for a few minutes and ponder things.
What Is Gaviota?
This old bridge serves as a reminder of what the Gaviota Coast once looked like. A time when the highway was narrow, the traffic sparse, the coastal plain mostly undeveloped.
My own connection to the Gaviota Coast dates back to those days: launching our small boats from the Gaviota Pier for a trip up the coast to Cojo, and surfing the El Capitan Point break on my classic 9-foot-6-inch Greg Knoll board, a high school graduation gift.
I’ve spent a lot of time trying to figure out in my own mind what Gaviota is — beautiful beaches, hidden canyons, pastoral views, rugged sandstone, avocado-covered hillsides, tangible things that create a sense of place.
Mostly it’s the intangibles: more, a place that has a sense. All of the above and more.
Future Challenges
Like all beautiful places, there will always be ones who look to develop them. The Gaviota Coast is no exception.
Peter Douglas, executive director of the California Coastal Commission for 26 years, once said, “The Coast is never saved. It is always being saved.”
The Alisal Fire is a reminder of the many challenges the Gaviota Coast faces. The largest of those challenges is simply that almost all of the Gaviota Coast is privately owned.
Homeward Bound
It’s been an eventful afternoon, the sunset over the trestles setting a tone for the ride home.
The rosy colors reflect on the hillsides to the left of me as I pass Tajiguas Canyon. To my right, the colors shimmer on the ocean surface. Sea and summit — two of my favorites.
I’m thanking those who have come before, such as the most prominent Selma Rubin who led the charge to keep developer Jules Berman from developing El Capitan Ranch in the early 1970s. That project alone would have destroyed the character of the Gaviota Coast.
Others, such as the Gaviota Coast Conservancy, continue to fight the good fight. Born as part of the effort to protect the Gaviota Coast through the creation of a national seashore, the GCC continues to work on behalf of the community to protect the coast.
As Douglas knew all so well, there is no saving the Gaviota Coast. It is and will continue to be an ongoing process.
— Noozhawk outdoor writer Ray Ford can be reached at rford@noozhawk.com. Click here for his website, SBoutdoors.com. Follow him on Twitter: @riveray. Connect with Noozhawk on Facebook.