Pescadero State Beach

 

Ice Plant on the Bluffs, Pescadero State Beach

I've been wanting to head south along the San Mateo coast for a while, and with rain in the forecast for next week I figured now was a good time to go. 

Arriving good and early, I realized I was too early. The gates don't open until 8 a.m., which is too bad. Pescadero Marsh looked good in the light before sunrise, but I saw no way to take advantage. Nowhere to park, that is.

The biting predawn cold melted away as the sun rose into a hazy morning sky. I'd hoped for lots of shorebirds, and maybe even some harbor seals, but had to settle for a small flock of whimbrels that soon got the jitters and flew north. Once they were gone, the beach was desolate except for a narrow wrack line composed of tiny crab shells, a scattering of by-the-wind sailors, and a couple of bird carcasses.

I drove a little farther south to see what I might find, pulling off the Cabrillo Highway at a random pull-out that looked worth exploring. The sandstone tafoni formations drew me in, and I kept my eyes and ears peeled for black oystercatchers as I looked for compositions. I finally spotted one flying toward me from the south, and it whistled its single-note call as it passed by. I whistled back, and the oystercatcher landed not too far away.

View of Pescadero Beach from the Bridge

Driftwood in the Dunes

Mouse Tracks in the Sand

Foraging Whimbrels

Synchronized Foraging

I guess the pickin's were nothing special -- nothing worth being spied on by a nosy photographer anyway -- so the birds kept moving north.

Small Sea Tunnel

The Mouth of Pescadero Creek

Bridge Over Pescadero Creek

Killdeer On Trail to Pescadero Marsh
(Out on the marsh I spotted a bufflehead, a great blue heron, a great egret, and a pair of Canada geese, almost all of which made haste to ditch me. The geese didn't fly away, but they were definitely "up periscope" on me until I soon left.)

Coastal Sandstone Along Cabrillo Highway

Tafoni Weirdness

Some of the sandstone was in the tidal zone where it gets sculpted by the motion of the sea.

The oystercatcher wasn't hunting; it just wanted to tuck a foot and a beak, and get some shut-eye. Much as I'd liked to have it otherwise, I had to respect its wishes and head back to the car for the trip home.

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