Systematically going over the Bay area map on AllTrails, I came across a bluff trail I had never noticed before: Thornton Beach. It is south of Funston, and while people noted they couldn’t get down to the beach itself, it seemed like a cool little spot to check out. I usually enjoy the bluffs over the beach anyway.
Arriving at the tiny parking lot (literally only 10 spots) with only six cars there, I knew we wouldn’t be fighting crowds. From the truck, I could not see the beach, ocean, or even a trail. Once out of the vehicle, I spotted a few trails that started just on the other side of the rope that acted as a parking barrier, so Tucker and I hopped over and started along the bluff.
Coming to the edge, I was overtaken by the panoramic vista. We stood atop a canyon ridge; down below there were a few people and dogs walking in the hollowed out canyon area. Above them, more trails led through the bluff, and beyond that, the sea. I was in awe, but pulled myself together to try to figure out how we could set foot on every inch of every path down below while not backtracking too much.
Tucker and I started down the path heading north on the first path I saw.
Arriving at the tiny parking lot (literally only 10 spots) with only six cars there, I knew we wouldn’t be fighting crowds. From the truck, I could not see the beach, ocean, or even a trail. Once out of the vehicle, I spotted a few trails that started just on the other side of the rope that acted as a parking barrier, so Tucker and I hopped over and started along the bluff.
Coming to the edge, I was overtaken by the panoramic vista. We stood atop a canyon ridge; down below there were a few people and dogs walking in the hollowed out canyon area. Above them, more trails led through the bluff, and beyond that, the sea. I was in awe, but pulled myself together to try to figure out how we could set foot on every inch of every path down below while not backtracking too much.
Tucker and I started down the path heading north on the first path I saw.
Even then, choices abounded.
Half a mile in, I realized that I had been here before: from Fort Funston! I had come from the north, taken a turn and headed down to the beach. Had I continued straight, I would have ended up right here.
So I turned around and headed back to trails we had never tread before. Taking the western most path, we rose up on the bluff’s edge and could see south along the coast.
We looped around and headed back into the canyon, where no sea, no bluff, and no mountains could be seen. It was its own private place of magic.
I wasn’t ready to head back up the way we had come, and I had seen some people come down from the southern edge of the ridge into the canyon. So rather than return the way we came, we took a mid-range trail, and walked south again, with the canyon to our left and the ocean to our right.
The way I had seen a few people come down the hill I did not think would work in the same way going up. They sort of slid down the embankment in a cloud of sand. But there had been people even farther away, up on the ridge who I saw later on down below—so there had to be another way up.
Indeed there was. I was reminded of Vancouver, where this would be rated “easy” because at least there was a chain you could hang onto while scaling the side of a mountain… with a dog. This was actually the first time Tucker even turned around and was like, “Um, maybe we should skip this one?”
I went slowly, making sure he was on solid ground, and he overcame his fear. His fear had made me pause though, as he’s never frightened of anything. But I felt we could be safe, and we could feel safe as long as we didn’t look down until we were all the way up. I find it strange how hesitant I am now—even though being hesitant is actually more risky than just having the confidence to move forward swiftly.
Doubt is a dangerous thing.
Once up on the two foot wide sandy edge, I quickly scrambled to safety with Tucker ahead of me. Taking a moment to look down across the valley rather than down the way we came up, I was filled with awe at the beauty rather than dismay that I had risked our lives.
I went slowly, making sure he was on solid ground, and he overcame his fear. His fear had made me pause though, as he’s never frightened of anything. But I felt we could be safe, and we could feel safe as long as we didn’t look down until we were all the way up. I find it strange how hesitant I am now—even though being hesitant is actually more risky than just having the confidence to move forward swiftly.
Doubt is a dangerous thing.
Once up on the two foot wide sandy edge, I quickly scrambled to safety with Tucker ahead of me. Taking a moment to look down across the valley rather than down the way we came up, I was filled with awe at the beauty rather than dismay that I had risked our lives.
We followed the ridge line back to the parking area and a little alcove under a tree to look from a view it from another perspective.
Any way we looked it, this magical land was stunning. Whether we could see the ocean, or were in the canyon, or atop the bluff, or even hanging on for dear life off a chain, I couldn’t ask for a better place in which to “shelter in place.”
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