Recently, I ventured south on California's Pacific Coast Highway, accompanied by my adventure partners for the day, Mallory and Alli. Our plan was to retrace one of my earlier excursions by hiking to Lower Moro Campground in Crystal Cove State Park, and then finish the day by visiting one of Laguna Beach's most iconic landmarks.
Crystal Cove is quite emphatically the gem of Orange County's coastline. The pristine, aqua blue waters are home to vibrant tidal pool ecosystems and frequent whale sightings farther out to sea. On the other side of the road, a vast trail system branches out and up into the San Joaquin Hills, a beautiful area popular with hikers and mountain bikers alike.
We set out from El Moro trailhead, quickly gaining elevation along the southernmost ridge trail. Southern California had an uncharacteristically wet winter and although the wildflower "super bloom" farther east received all of the attention, Crystal Cove was the greenest it had been for years. Orange California poppies exploded here and there while black mustard plants towered over the path, painting large swaths of bright yellow on the verdant hillside canvas. A steady, refreshingly brisk wind flowed from the ocean like an encouraging mantra, urging us higher and higher.
About two and a half miles in, we reached our destination, Lower Moro Campground, a small plot of 10 to 15 sites with bathroom facilities but no running water. Staying a night there is on my list - I'm sure watching the sunset from the peak, and the sunrise the next morning, would make for an unforgettable view. But just then, the vista was enough, and Mallory and Alli agreed. From there, Newport Beach stretched north, the jetties at the Wedge and the bay all visible. Even farther to the horizon, a thin cap of snow atop the San Gabriel Mountains held on against the April sun, a strange sight considering the hot temperatures we were experiencing. Several buzzards soared level with us, riding the thermals and updrafts with effortless acrobatics, putting on a show.
Only a month prior, I had stumbled upon a nearby mountaintop oasis, a pond that is undoubtedly spring fed but was bolstered by the heavy rain fall. Then, the water was deep and countless tadpoles (more than I have ever seen concentrated in one place) swam in the mud around the edge. Since then, the campground had been overgrown, but I still managed to pick my way back, finding the bed empty but still damp. My hunch was that not everything was as it seemed and sure enough, those tadpoles had grown into frogs, and some into toads by the look of it. They came pouncing out of the vegetation, tiny dots hued red, brown and green. Careful not to step on any, we knelt down for a closer look and another surprise. Toads began pouring out of holes in the ground, exiting their cool and dark burrows in twos and threes. After snapping some pictures, the girls decided it was getting too Old Testament and we decided to start the journey back - besides, we didn't want to risk squishing any of our new amphibious friends.
With the windows rolled down, we continued along PCH to Victoria Beach, a public area with a very private feeling entrance - if you didn't know where to look, you would easily miss it. The staircase is sandwiched between two charming beach houses in a luxurious Laguna Beach neighborhood. Parking is super limited, but somehow large groups of people make the trip every day. Our destination was what locals refer to as "Pirate Tower', an elaborate, medieval looking spiral staircase built in 1926 for California State Senator William E. Brown and his family to access the beach and swimming pool. Harold Kendrick, a retired Naval officer from Los Angeles purchased the house in the 1940's and liked to dress as a buccaneer and hide gold coins in and around the structure, thus contributing to its current moniker.
The perfect day of hiking and sightseeing came to an end as any coastal Orange County adventure should with a turkey club and a peanut butter malt at Ruby's Shake Shack atop the bluffs.