BLM Dispatch #30 - King Range National Conservation Area - Part 3
Here in the King Range, the seasons determine what kind of landscape you’re going to encounter.
From October to April, one storm follows another, and together they bring more than a hundred inches of rain, turning the land into a soaked ribbon of rainforest green. Hiking trails are muddy, bloated tributaries cascade westerly through the woods to find the perennial creeks that run into the sea, and celebrity fungi and mushrooms like earpick and lion’s mane sprout in gratitude.
From late spring through early fall, the King Range enters a dry season marked by clear skies, parched hillsides, and dusty trails. Coastal fog often drifts inland in the mornings, briefly softening the drought, but by afternoon the air turns warm and brittle. Streams shrink or vanish into gravel beds, and the coastal prairie take on a muted gold.
Scenes from the southern end of the range…
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BLM Dispatch #29 - King Range National Conservation Area - Coastal Prairie
This is one of my favorite photos from my book.
My friend Noah and I set out from our temporary home at the Mattole Beach Campground on a ten-mile loop that would wind us high above the ocean and back again. Two miles in, after climbing nearly seven hundred feet along Prosper Ridge Road, the day shifted. An old two-track path through the prairie veered from the gravel road and we followed it toward Strawberry Rock. Within moments — a snap of the fingers — the clear blue September skies dissolved into fog, a curtain sweeping over the ridge and swallowing the sun whole.
I took this photo, then turned around to shoot some frames in the other direction. When I turned back, he had disappeared…
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BLM Dispatch #28 - King Range National Conservation Area, Part 1
I remember the exact moment I first heard about a magical place called the “Lost Coast.”
A friend described an undeveloped shoreline where steep mountains plunge straight into the sea, old-growth trees rise from a temperate rainforest, and the isolation is so complete that residents carry helicopter insurance.
It sounded like something out of a fairy tale. I assumed it must be in the Philippines, or off the coast of Africa, or tucked away in New Zealand — or at the very closest, somewhere in Hawaii.
When he told me it was in California, I practically knocked him over as I ran to my computer.
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