Discover Crescent City, California – A great place for eating and exploring
By Toby Neal, Staff writer- IPA Magazine Travel and Award Winning Author
Crescent City near the Oregon border has become one of our favorite stops on the coast. There’s a lot to recommend this slightly-tawdry little enclave that Highway 101 runs right through: several excellent restaurants, a lighthouse on a tiny island only accessible on foot at low tide; good fishing, surfing at the main beach, a pier with lots of active and silly sea lions to observe, and for those who trailer camp, an RV park that butts up to a beach that goes on practically forever.
The town of Crescent City, California, is also nicely positioned as a stopping point between Brookings, Oregon, on the border of that state (always gas up in Brookings; it’s a dollar less than anything in California!) and the bigger metropolis of Eureka, California. Eureka’s the largest town along the far NorCal coast, a logging enclave that holds down the northern end of the state like a paperweight.
There are numerous motels, but we were trailer camping on this visit and parked our rig at the furthest south RV Park (there are several; all similar in closeness to the beach as long as you choose one on the ocean side.) Afterward, we ate dinner at our favorite restaurant, Schmidt’s House of Jambalaya.
This tasty little bistro on the jetty with an ocean view is run by a lovely couple passionate about good food. They make classic Cajun dishes that are not only fabulous but reasonably priced. We had po’boys, crawfish etouffee, and delicious French Onion soup; the jambalaya itself is too spicy for our wimpy tastebuds. Washed down with a glass of local red wine, we were fueled by delicious food and ready for one last adventure that day.
The tide was out and I enjoyed the novelty of crossing the tidepool reef on foot to reach the area’s lighthouse on its little island. The Battery Point Lighthouse is one of the oldest in California, and its little Cape Cod lightkeeper home is still occupied (tours are available, but not at the time of day we were there.)
After crossing the wet reef, we hiked up a curving path to the crown of the island as the sun began to set in streaks of mauve and gold. A few intrepid cypress trees protected the buildings from prevailing winds, thankfully absent this evening, as I studied the historic white clapboard house where a light burned inside and jazz music floated out of an open window trimmed in hardy old-fashioned roses.
Sitting on a boulder beside a crowded, weathered wood observation deck, I dreamed of how wonderful it be to live all year round at that residence. Every day would be a panorama on a tiny island surrounded by water, with seals, birds, whales and fishing boats passing by.
(On the other hand, you’d have to share your tiny island with the public, and that would get old fast…we were far from alone on our sunset trek to Battery Point.)
Streaks of amber, oxblood and maroon lit the low cloud line off the horizon in a dreamscape; before it was entirely dark and too hard to see our way back, we trekked across the reef to our trailer for an excellent sleep, lulled by the sound of waves on the nearby beach.
Learn more about Toby Neal novels and other writings at: http://www.tobyneal.net/