Taylor Point

Hikes along the beach here can look deceptively easy. At low tide, passes between sea stacks look short and manageable. The distance around a cliff can seem the shorter option. But tides can and do sweep in washing people away. Up and over Taylor Point, as the sign recommended, seemed the wiser option.

The 1.2 mile trail leading up from Third Beach to Scott's Bluff began with a 30 step climb up a ladder built into the slope. One after the other we grabbed hold of the dangling rope and pulled ourselves up the incline. At the top of that ladder, we grabbed the end of another and than another after that. The final ascent was a repel where the only foot holds were those created by our boots as they dug into the lose sloping ground beneath us. At the top we entered a lushness so different from the golden beach we had come from that I stopped and looked back to make sure it was still there. The contrast in atmospheres was remarkable. Here the sun was muted as it filtered through the vines overhead. It landed as a hazy veil over us. A Thicket of ferns surrounded us at waist level and mud engulfed our feet. The fairy-land feeling increased as we continued. Giant tree roots pulled from the ground and we passed high rock walls of soft elf-blanket-like moss.

Fairy-land gave way to Jungle Book. Giant ferns created sweeping overhead mats of green. "I'm the king of the jungle," I sang. John played the other wild animals and we continued hiking, traveling up and down with the contour of the earth, until we reached a series of wooden steps. At the end of them laid Scott's Bluff.

We had arrived at the bluff at low tide. Another sign here also gave warning to the danger of walking around the point. "The last person to attempt to walk around this point was trapped between the tide and the cliffs and was washed out to sea. " We had no desire to meet that fate, and more interesting anyway was to explore the tidal pools and sea caves a few yards away. The first two caves had rounded bowl-like endings (the home of the illustrated hibernating bear), the third trailed off to a narrow jagged end. But no bears would be sleeping here, their rocky floors were already being patterned by streams of sea water. We spent the rest of our time at the bluff taking ques from the seal pups nearby. We pulled up onto the rocks and laid down to relax.

Later in the afternoon, when we'd reached the other end of the point again, we considered how nice it would have been to pitch our tent right there on the sand. Another time, we though. In leu of that we pitched our pot and camping stove and, behind a wind-protecting drift log, cooked ourselves dinner. To the glow of a yellow-orange on the horizon we crossed the Teahwhit Head and found our van.