A MEETING WITH CRESCENT CITY
 

FOR YEARS I had strolled through the shadows of the giant redwoods in Jedediah Smith National Park, had picnicked on riverbanks within Smith River National Recreation Area, eased along back roads in Six Rivers National Forest, and lunched at Patrick Creek Lodge west of Gasquet on Highway 199. I perceived Del Norte County as a wilderness, a rural outpost unsullied by signs of "civilization." In great measure, my opinion was correct. 
 Then on one long weekend, I decided to explore Crescent City, the metropolis of the North Coast (pop. 8,800 or so). I found a few pleasant surprises, intriguing enough to settle in for the night rather than racing south at dusk to the Motel Trees in Klamath or even all the way to Eureka.
 The site of Crescent City first was spotted from the landward side in the spring of 1851 when a small party of searchers for the legendary Lost Cabin spied on the horizon a watery inlet. (During the gold fever days of the 1850s, Lost Cabin stories sprang up like California poppies. They always featured a miner who struck it rich, worked like a beaver amassing a fortune for his family, found a fine hiding place for his hoard and then a) was murdered by savages, b) vanished in a storm, or c) went wacky with loneliness and forgot where he buried the treasure.)
 In1852-53, the chartered schooner Pomona arrived with eager settlers aboard and the town of Crescent City was laid out. By the following summer, some 300 buildings stood proudly back of the shore. The town served as chief port of entry and supply center for the gold miners of Oregon and neighboring settlements in California. By 1854, 800 citizens called it home and a local newspaper was printed. Fraternal organizations were born, the fire department organized itself, and wow! By 1855,  miners on Myrtle Creek were earning from $5 to $15 daily. In fact, the local enthusiasm was such that in 1856 Crescent's first drama was given by the Crescentonian Club: "The Toodles and Paddy Miles, the Limerick Boy."
 Crescent City, at first the seat of the former Klamath County, and so jealous were Crescentonians when the seat was moved to Orleans Bar that they forced formation of a new county, Del Norte, in order to make their burgeoning city its seat (so it is said).

 Crescent City, however, always has fallen prey to disaster, witness the Tragedy of St. George Reef, which occurred in the summer of 1865. On a turbulent July 30, the steamer Brother Jonathan, plying off the coast west of Point St. George, was struck by a sudden, swift storm. The vessel hammered onto the reef with enough force to drive her foremast bang through the hull. The ship was doomed, 80-90 passengers drowned (some sources claim 200 died), and only one boatload was saved. On a bluff overlooking the sea, the Brother Jonathan Cemetery is today a State Historical Landmark.

 Most Californians are unaware that any naval action at all hit home during World War II. On Dec. 20, 1941, the 10,745 tanker SS Emidio was torpedoed and shelled by a Japanese submarine. Only five lives were lost; the ship foundered on the rocks near Crescent City. Some bits from the hull are preserved as open-air art along the waterfront.
 On a windblown outcrop seven miles off the coast and 13 miles from town, the St. George Reef Lighthouse ranks among the greatest structures of its kind ever erected by the U.S. government. Pretty Pebble Beach Drive follows from Fifth Street west to a point from which you can admire the oddly romantic ruin. Sea lions and whales play here. When waters are calm, families can venture to shore to collect agates, dig razor clams, or even surf. The lighthouse was closed in 1975; its 18-foot, 5,000-pound Fresnel lens is displayed today in the Del Norte County Historical Society Main Museum.
 As you drive out Pebble Beach Road, you'll spot Castle Rock where the breeding population of seabirds is second only to that of the Fallaron Islands off San Francisco. With binoculars, you'll shoot murres, cormorants, and gulls; occasionally even a tufted puffin. Joy galore.
 Another lighthouse, that at Battery Point, was established in 1856; since 1982 it is once again in operation, with a light shining from dusk to dawn every night. It stands offshore on an island at the foot of A Street and can be reached only a low tide.
 On March 27, 1964, natural forces battered Crescent City once more, when a tsunami (great wave) created by a vicious Alaskan earthquake swept over 24 blocks of downtown. Surprisingly, no lives at all were lost. Today, a breakwater of more than 1,600 concrete tetrapods weighing 25 tons apiece seems to be protective the harbor quite well.
 Don't depart Crescent City without a stop at Oceanworld, right along Highway 101 a handful of blocks after it enters the town. In addition to a giant tank where undersea creatures cavort, it features guided tours beneath the sea, performing sea lions, shark-petting, and other arcane activities.
 For suggestions on where to stay and were to dine, click on Itinerary.