Still California

Crescent City, California

You used to be able to just go.

Pull over, walk into the redwoods, and be the only one in them. No reservation, no timed-entry slot, no parking app. Six hours north of San Francisco, that is still how it works.

What people actually miss

Nobody misses the traffic. What people miss is smaller and more specific than that.

Walking into a redwood forest on a whim — not booked three months out, not a ticket for a 9:40 entry window. Elk meandering through a meadow, close enough that you stop the car and just watch. A path down to a beach where the only footprints are the ones you came with. Pulling salmon out of a stream so clear you could drink from it.

None of that is gone. It got crowded, metered, permitted and booked out — in the parts of California most people can drive to.

Come to where it's still California.

The state runs out at Crescent City: past the wine country, past the northern forests, where the coast turns rocky and the weather turns honest. Most of the county around it was never built on, because most of it legally can't be.

The Smith

The Smith is the only major river left in California that has never been dammed, and the clarity is the thing people remember — the riverbed stays visible through water deep enough to swim in, and it comes back clear within a couple of days of a storm, which almost no river does. More than 320 miles of it are federally Wild and Scenic, the most of any river system in the country. It holds the state-record steelhead, at twenty-seven pounds. Chinook run in November, steelhead in January.

Check the season before you pack a rod. The salmon fishery is managed tightly, and that is a large part of why there is still one.

That's why we have the ocean.

The river keeps its own hours. The ocean is the other half of the answer, and it is a working fishery, not a view: Crescent City harbor runs one of the largest Dungeness crab operations on the West Coast, and it is one of California's top ports for Pacific halibut.

What comes out of the water here: Dungeness crab, the good kind, in winter. Pacific halibut. Rockfish in more varieties than you will learn the names of, with lingcod sitting underneath them. King salmon through the summer. Albacore when the warm water pushes in close enough to reach. Surfperch off the beach, for the price of a rod and a walk down the sand.

Same rule as the river: check the season, and check the shellfish advisories before you cook anything you pulled out yourself.

Most mornings

Most mornings you can spot deer and wild elk, raccoons and bobcats in the meadows. Raccoons behave as though the lease is theirs. The bobcat is the one you tell people about.

And if you want elk by the dozen, you don't have to go anywhere. The meadow is our front yard, and the herd stands in it most days of the year — no drive, no hike, no permit.

Start here

What's so special about Crescent City?

The tail end of California, up past the redwoods, where the coast turns rocky and the weather turns honest. For anyone weighing a move, or a week away.

Read on

Properties

Nothing listed right now.

Every home here is one we own and sell ourselves, so the list is short by design — and at the moment it is empty. The next place goes up here first.

If you are looking for something specific up here, tell us what. It is useful to know before a place goes on the market.

hello@stillcalifornia.com