VOLUME 12 / NUMBER 3 / AUTUMN 1996

an you imagine walking all the way from Oregon to Mexico? The very idea would eem exhausting, not to mention unnecessary, to most of us. And yet, now and then people do it for reasons of their own (to prove their ruggedness, to write a book) or for some larger cause. In the early '70s Don Engdahl, a newspaper reporter, took the walk to call attention to the beauties of the coast in hopes of winning legislative support for its protection. His articles, printed in the San Francisco Chronicle, fueled the movement that led to the passage of the 1972 Coastal Initiative, Proposition 21, and to the 1976 California Coastal Act. That landmark legislation embodied the vision of a healthy coast open to public enjoyment. It included provisions for a state-long Coastal Trail.

On June 1 this year, 12 people set out from Pelican Bay State Beach in Del Norte County, heading for the Mexican border along the route of the Coastal Trail, which is now about half completed. Their purpose was to drum up support for this trail, and to check out the condition of coastal parks and other public access. Five of the 12 arrived at Borderfield State Park in San Diego County on September 20. They had walked 1,156 miles, about one-third of that distance along roads and highways because no alternative passage existed. During the 112-day journey (96 days hiking, 16 days resting) 21 others joined them for some of the distance. Many others participated in supporting roles: 30 local hike leaders, numerous cooks, drivers, and various hosts.

The whole-coast hike was organized by Coastwalk, a nonprofit organization dedicated to the completion of the Coastal Trail and to improving public access to the shore. It was co-sponsored by the Coastal Conservancy and the State Parks Department. "There were no crises," said Tom McFarling, who with his wife Vivian coordinated the event. "No injuries, no breakdowns, and we were right on schedule. We were amazed."

The McFarlings founded Coastwalk in 1983, at the suggestion of Bill Kortum, long-time coastal activist and a veterinarian in Petaluma. The genesis was a seven-day, 60-mile hike along the Sonoma County coast, which proved so popular it became an annual event. In the years since, the length of the annual Coastwalk has kept growing. The hope is that this year's valiant organizational and personal effort will inspire others to help build the state-long trail.

At this point the Coastal Trail consists of many separate coastline trails and a plan for the missing links. The links are forged one by one, as local governments, citizens, and public agencies join in the effort. The Coastal Conservancy has spent nearly $39 million on 225 Coastal Trail projects in the past two decades.

Who needs to walk the whole coast, some people ask. "Long trails capture the imagination," responds McFarling. "Think of the Appalachian Trail, the Pacific Crest Trail. You may never hike the whole trail but it's something you can dream and think about." Michael L. Fischer, executive officer of the Coastal Conservancy, puts it this way: "It throws your mind forward along a path that your feet can slowly follow. It allows you to embrace a larger landscape."

The Coastwalkers started in the temperate rainforest of the redwoods and eventually arrived in the desert; they moved from the quiet, sparsely populated north to the very crowded south. It was the adventure of a lifetime. They covered an average of 12.4 miles a day. They were escorted by a series of guides, each of whom knew a certain stretch of coastline intimately. Special arrangements were made to allow them through private lands that are closed to the public, thus reducing by 75 miles the roadwalking anyone else would have to do. They enjoyed seven miles of blufftop trail in Sea Ranch, Sonoma County; about the same on the property surrounding the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Plant in San Luis Obispo County; 37.5 miles of beaches and dunes on Vandenberg Air Force Base; and 14 miles across the private Bixby and Hollister Ranches in Santa Barbara County. To take them across river mouths, harbors, and marinas, arrangements were made for kayaks, canoes, and pontoon boats. Friends and allies prepared their dinners, and a van lent by the Ford Motor Company carried their gear. The hikers stayed mostly at State Parks campgrounds, but also at five youth hostels, in a luxurious rented house in Sea Ranch, and in a cow pasture south of Half Moon Bay.

"The high points were innumerable--every day was unique. There were some low points too, such as walking along the edge of two-lane Highway 1 next to speeding traffic," said Coastwalk executive officer Richard Nichols. The discoveries they made ranged from wondrous to dismaying. The coast is amazing, but half of it remains inaccessible to the public. Parks are beautiful and much appreciated, but are rapidly deteriorating for lack of maintenance funds.

"The biggest access problems are in Mendocino and Monterey Counties," Nichols reports. "In Mendocino a lot of blufftop land is subdivided and there is no access to about 50 miles of the shore. In Big Sur we had maps that showed some ridgetop trails in the Ventana Wilderness, but found these trails overgrown and almost obliterated by erosion. The Forest Service lacks funds for trail work, so, for the most part, we walked the road in Big Sur. "My most striking image during the trip was of 'For Sale' signs on land that should be in the public domain, but nobody's buying. We have stopped expanding parks while the need for them is growing."

Defunding has forced state parks to privatize in a few places. "Wherever you see this, it's discouraging," Nichols says. The recently acquired Limekiln State Park in Big Sur is leased to a private company. Camping fees were higher than elsewhere ($22 a night, instead of $16 to $18), campsites were too close together, and sanitation was poor, the hikers found. Two toilets did not work, and the campground staff, when told, responded rudely, Nichols said. They noted a big difference between parks that include uplands as well as beaches, such as Fort Funston in San Francisco and Torrey Pines Reserve in San Diego County, and beach-only parks with houses on the bluff. "When you walk on a beach with private homes on the bluff you often walk between the surf and a wall," Nichols said. The natural character and beauty of California's eroding shoreline is gone, replaced by shoreline armor. "Beaches appeared to be well-used along the entire coast, but if youre willing to walk, you can find remote beaches even in southern California," he discovered.

On September 20, the Coastwalkers arrived at Border Field State Park and the wall that separates Alta and Baja California, the United States and Mexico. These five made it all the way: Beverly Backstrom, 65, of Santa Rosa; Marilyn Goeller, 58, of Walnut Creek; Barbara Johnson, 67, of Atascadero; and Fay Kelley, 59, of Benicia. Richard Nichols, 52, missed six days but was counted.

Tom McFarling, who walked the last seven miles, describes the scene: "We came around the bend and there, in the distance, was the bullring in Tijuana. Donald Murphy met us to walk the last mile to the cast-iron fence that comes down the hill. The girders are four to five inches apart to allow water to wash down, and Mexican people on the other side reached through to shake hands. We had brought some sand and seawater from the Oregon border and we dumped that on the Mexican side in a symbolic gesture. Donald Murphy had said, 'Trails connect people; they connect communities. They're an excellent way for people to get in touch.' We would very much like to see this trail continue." Back home in Sebastopol, Sonoma County, reflecting on the journey, Richard Nichols concluded that weaving the coastline together with a trail is a viable vision, but may take even longer than Coastwalk had figured. He also concluded that if others, in the future, are to have the opportunity to enjoy the places this group visited, citizens have to work for much more support for State Parks, the Coastal Conservancy, and other resource agencies.

Rasa Gustaitis