This is what retirement is SUPPOSED to look like. The Noyo Harbor District's Mooring Basin is key to the beating heart of the local economy, bringing in thousands of these guys to fish every year. Prior to the mooring basin, commercial fishing boats parked on both sides of the harbor, creating a gauntlet allmost as bad as the harbor entrance itself.
Several times a week, we slip under the Noyo River Bridge and let the world fall away as we run the beach with the dogs. What a life. What first‑class, free fun. In this simple ritual, we’ve met unforgettable locals and wide‑eyed visitors, watched sea mammals surface like old friends, and traded glances with shorebirds, seabirds, and even a washed‑up ocean‑going sunfish that looked like it had drifted in from another planet.
Noyo Beach will never win a beauty contest against Pudding Creek, Ten Mile, Seaside, or Big River — and yes, it sometimes hosts a few too many local characters for comfort. But somehow, we love it almost as much as the dogs do. Maybe more. There’s something about its scruffiness, its working‑harbor honesty, its mix of tides and stories and humanity, that feels like home.
Today, Caesar wandered off to the far end of the jetty and sat alone, watching the ocean for a full five minutes — as if he were contemplating the meaning of life or listening for something only dogs can hear. Brutus, of course, had no such philosophical ambitions.
Come with us on a little journey through a place layered with history. We’ve had hundreds of days out here — exploring the old dredge‑spoil area, filming starfish and monkey‑faced eels off the jetty, chasing sticks, chasing light, chasing time. But this is just today. Just a tiny slice of what heaven can look like when you’re lucky enough to live here, love here, and share it together with two dogs who think every tide is a miracle.
In the end, it doesn’t take a grand adventure to feel the magnitude of this coast — just two hours, four hearts, and a stretch of sand where the Pacific keeps reminding us that we belong to something bigger, wilder, and endlessly beautiful. Here, under the bridge and beside the waves, we remember again and again: this is our place, our joy, our little piece of forever.
Caesar and I enjoyed the sunset from the walkway that runs from the top of North Harbor Drive down toward Princess Seafood under the bridge. Harbor Lite Inn, long the marquee property of the Hurst family, was sold in 2021 for $6.8 million to GP Investors Inc. Its primary owners according to the website are siblings Bob Hunt and Pamela Amante, also own the Wharf and the iconic Beachcomber—solidly in the mid to upper‑mid range. In winter, these are two of the best spots in town for hosting visiting relatives.During the Civil War era, lumber baron Alexander MacPherson chose a spectacular perch above his mills to build a grand home. Today, the view is even finer from the Noyo Harbor Inn, which now occupies the site. In 1912, the Holmes family purchased the property from Union Lumber Company and enhanced it with the extraordinary local woods available at the time. The home passed through several owners and briefly operated as an inn in the 1990s before that venture closed. In 2011, Joseph Marino purchased the property and renamed it the Noyo Harbor Inn. Between 2011 and 2017, the inn underwent extensive renovations, with local artisans using the finest indigenous materials to create spacious, comfortable rooms while preserving the building’s craftsman‑style charm. The inn officially reopened on Thanksgiving Day 2017, restoring a historic gem to the community. We’ve enjoyed many memorable dinners there.The Wharf was reported to have been purchased by the Hunt siblings earlier this year, yet property records still list the Hursts as owners. It may be that the Hunts acquired the business rather than the real estate. We’ll know more after our next trip to Ukiah..The Noyo River Bridge features the open, scenic railings the community fought hard to secure when Caltrans replaced the bridge in 2004. I covered the opening for the Advocate-News in 2005 and still have the photos. The railing design resurfaced in public debate last year after a young man apparently jumped from the span, with some questioning whether the rails were too low or too easy to climb. Documents Frank later obtained showed the old bridge had been in far worse condition than anyone realized. That earlier bridge also had its moment in cinematic history, appearing in Noyo Harbor’s iconic films The Russians Are Coming and Overboard.This building appears to be apartments now, though it was once part of the Hurst–Silver hotel‑restaurant complex. I’m also digging into the history of the North Harbor Trading Company. The business looks old, but the name “North Harbor” didn’t come into use until after the high bridge was built at the end of WWII. Before that, it was all one harbor, linked by a low bridge. Always snazzy sports cars out front. We enjoyed a fantastic Midwestern‑style, classy, and delicious birthday dinner at the Wharf. Its familiar ambience warms the hearts of many Central Valley visitors who still miss places like the old Refuge in ColusaBack in the 1980s and 1990s, the harbor was dominated by characters, hustlers, and assorted oddballs. As Dusty Dillon told me when he bought what is now Princess Seafood, you could practically walk the length of the harbor under a patchwork of tarps. Makeshift, unpermitted structures were everywhere, and the late Jimmy Cummings controlled much of the north harbor. The positive transformation since then has been remarkable, thanks largely to Stephen Dunlap and the Princess crew, who have brought everything fully aboveboard—at least as far as we can tell, lol. Quite the turnaround.The Noyo ran muddy brown and mighty today, but we dodged a bullet. Had Sunday’s heavy rainfall arrived on Friday during the king tides, flooding would have been a serious problem.Brutus needs his daily constitutional swim to sleep well at night. He used to head out so far he was just a tiny dot on the water. Now, at 10, he’s a bit more cautious, but he still loves the ocean with all of his big, goofy, and ferocious heart.New doggo friends are always a joy. Noyo Beach is one of the area’s two off‑leash dog beachesLinda and I took turns photographing each other in the old riverbed. I’m standing on all alluvial rock. The creek still flows, though I haven’t been able to find an official name for it. Judging from the width and depth of the historic outflow, it was once a much more substantial body of water.Linda absolutely rocked the Moses/Elijah prophetic staff—far better than I did. She looked ready to command the tides, while I mostly looked like a minor sea god whose powers were limited to politely requesting calmer waves.Brutus insists that he and I compete — and compete hard — every single day. It’s all tug‑of‑war and trick‑the-human games. Everyone else is a friend; I’m the designated rival. He needs that daily battle, and I’m starting to realize I do too. Caesar, meanwhile, wants no part of arguing, growling, or wrestling and bolts the moment we startIf I fool him and hide the stick or ignore him, I get this, the challenge face.Then this demand that the game resume. NOW!When you’re a great swimmer, it doesn’t take long before a pretty gal named Sugar glides in beside you — matching your strokes, tossing you a look, and making sure you notice she’s got styleWhile Brutus and I tussle, tug‑of‑war, fetch, and play hide‑the‑stick, Linda tunes out the snarling, barking, and general chaos and quietly finds heart‑shaped rocks — Love on the Beach.The jetty had been overtopped at high tide. The dogs won’t go near it when the ocean is upThe clouds seem to mimic the bridge. The Todd Point Headlands always pose for a sexy photo. The South Harbor, seen here, proudly calls itself the working harbor. The North Harbor has plenty of jobs too, though they’re more tourist‑oriented — party boats, markets, a distillery, and restaurants..If you’re a gull, this seawall is the perfect place to poop and socialize. For sailors, old and new, it’s a whole different story — the margin of error is razor‑thin, and big boats find it downright intimidating. The captain of a tall sailing ship that the late Dusty Dillon once hosted told me that getting in and out of Noyo Harbor ranked among the top ten scariest moments of his entire sailing career. He wouldn’t be coming back.Natural concrete! Ocean basalt forms from cooling lava and is usually solid grey‑black like this rock — without the striking white markings. Calcite in the ocean creates a chemical reaction that lets it flow into the grooves of the rocks while they’re still warm on the sea floor. The white patterns look like fossils etched into the stone. And if you find a rock with a solid white line circling all the way around it, that’s considered good luck!Here is the outflow of the creek that runs out in the middle of Noyo Beach. Does anybody know its name? HIstory??. No, it is not part of the Noyo River. The river rocks go deep but mostly emerge in winter storms, then the old creek or river is buried by sand most of the summer.This handsome fella wanted to meet Caesar and Brutus.We’re home from our harbor adventure, back with our beloved back‑lot neighbors — Cleone Grocery & Campground.
Frank Hartzell has spent his lifetime as a curious anthropologist in a reporter's fedora. His first news job was chasing news on the streets of Houston with high school buddy and photographer James Mason, back in 1986. Then Frank graduated from Humboldt State and went to Great Gridley as a reporter, where he bonded with 1000 people and told about 3000 of their stories. In Marysville at the Appeal Democrat, the sheltered Frank got to see both the chilling depths and amazing heights of humanity. From there, he worked at the Sacramento Bee covering Yuba-Sutter and then owned the Business Journal in Yuba City, which sold 5000 subscriptions to a free newspaper. Frank then got a prestigious Kiplinger Investigative Reporting fellowship and was city editor of the Newark Ohio, Advocate and then came back to California for 4 years as managing editor of the Napa Valley Register before working as a Dominican University professor, then coming to Fort Bragg to be with his aging mom, Betty Lou Hartzell, and working for the Fort Bragg Advocate News. Frank paid the bills during that decade + with a successful book business. He has worked for over 50 publications as a freelance writer, including the Mendocino Voice and Anderson Valley Advertiser, along with construction and engineering publications. He has had the thrill of learning every day while writing. Frank is now living his dream running MendocinoCoast.News with wife, Linda Hartzell, and web developer, Marty McGee, reporting from Fort Bragg, California.
Nice journey up and down the basin! Remember when Noyo River Inn was The Casa Del Noyo where Mrs. Wallace would take us music students for recitals to play on the grand piano–picture window overlooking a “million dollar” view. Pops did commercial fishing on the side. As a kid I had to steer the boat and watch the Fathometer! I wasn’t crazy getting up 4am to get thru the river to the ocean before the low tides, but loved being on the high seas, all the wildlife and sea creatures to watch and enjoy. Remember once having a hard time getting back through the jetty with high swells, never forget looking up and seeing all the people gathered up on the bridge watching us try, but Pops, forever calm and sure, got us safely home. He grew up on these shores, recognized every location on land looking from the boat, and was happiest on the water.
Nice journey up and down the basin! Remember when Noyo River Inn was The Casa Del Noyo where Mrs. Wallace would take us music students for recitals to play on the grand piano–picture window overlooking a “million dollar” view. Pops did commercial fishing on the side. As a kid I had to steer the boat and watch the Fathometer! I wasn’t crazy getting up 4am to get thru the river to the ocean before the low tides, but loved being on the high seas, all the wildlife and sea creatures to watch and enjoy. Remember once having a hard time getting back through the jetty with high swells, never forget looking up and seeing all the people gathered up on the bridge watching us try, but Pops, forever calm and sure, got us safely home. He grew up on these shores, recognized every location on land looking from the boat, and was happiest on the water.