Highway 1, the Pacific Coast Highway, runs all the way from San Juan Capistrano south of Los Angeles to Leggett, hugging the coast. Just past San Francisco it rumbles through hilly Marin to Stinson Beach, past 71,000-acre Point Reyes National Seashore and Tomales, through Bodega Bay and Jenner and the carefully planned community of Sea Ranch, past the old lighthouse in Point Arena, Elk's giant sea stacks and the little wooden bridge that marks the Albion entrance and up to picturesque Mendocino and the whale-and-beer-and- chowder town of Fort Bragg, all the way to Rockport at the northwestern corner of Mendocino County, where it suddenly stops and turns reluctantly inland. Bearing east, it heads toward Leggett, crossing the Eel River to meet up with Highway 101 where, joining California's central artery, it begins a long meander north in conspicuous detour around a huge leaf-shaped swath of California real estate known as the Lost Coast.

It's odd to find an undeveloped strip of California coastal property, let alone a 90-mile stretch wide enough to encompass both the 60,000-acre King Range National Conservation Area and 7,500-acre Sinkyone Wilderness State Park, but the landscape here, at the juncture of three tectonic plates, is hardly a settling one. A fierce geology shoves the rocky talus of the King Range upward at a violent rate, lifting peaks a startling 13 feet every 1,000 years, or 10 times faster than most places in the world. Heavy rains -- this is one of the wettest spots on the Pacific coast, averaging 100 to 200 inches a year -- and high winds erode the slopes and send detritus tumbling downward. There is no coastal thoroughfare because the crumbling cliffs and precipitous palisades offer no leeway. There is no string of dreamy seaside villages replete with shops, cafes and cheery little inns, no stream of gawking, car-bound visitors. But there are floods and mudslides, quakes and storms, ticks and mosquitoes, poison oak and even scorpions, wasps and rattlesnakes -- a natural "No Trespassing" sign so convincing that most folks observe it and, like the freeway, turn aside and let the coast stay lost.

But an explorer will benefit from this form of natural selection. This is a landscape free, for the most part, from the crass clear-cut of civilization, urbanization and gentrification, and while it's not the pristine wilderness that nurtured the Sinkyone and Mattole Indians who once fished and hunted its rivers, forests and shores, it has a wildness to it that explorers find appealing.

Two roads lead inward. Motoring along potholed byways kinked in elbow and hairpin turns; bordered by scotch broom, fern, oak, pine and clutters of blackberry bramble; through curtains of fog and drifts of sunlight; past old truck homes, clutches of rusty mailboxes and dirt roads leading nowhere, the visitor will eventually find his way to where the rigor of the mountains meets the vigor of the sea. In the south, from Redway, just east of Garberville, the Briceland-Thorne Road winds 22 miles through the King Range and terminates in Shelter Cove. Mattole Road, the other option for ingress, snakes through the northern half of the area from Weott at the southern boundary of the Avenue of the Giants through Humboldt Redwoods State Park to Honeydew and then along the Mattole River to Petrolia, where it becomes Wildcat Road and finally up to Cape Mendocino, where it turns inland to hook up with Highway 101 again at Ferndale near the coast. A few small tributary roads -- some dirt and gravel and often closed -- run north and south, but any in-depth investigation of the Lost Coast is better done on foot.

The Lost Coast Trail, a rugged 50-mile segment of the California Coastal Trail, runs the length of the region. With steep ascents and fickle contours dependent on the tides, it's a rigorous trek that takes about a week. A number of day hikes of varying lengths and difficulty sprout from the many trailheads.

The visitor would do well to start at Shelter Cove. Situated at Point Delgada in the heart of the King Range National Conservation Area, this grassy headland is popular and relatively populous because it's one of the few flat pieces of property beneath the King Range. Launched in the '60s as a $50 million project designed to house 10,000 residents, it stalled under the weight of plane wrecks, earthquakes, fires and environmental pressure. Today, one seasonal restaurant, a year-round eatery, a campground, coffee shop, general store, three motels, a B&B and a host of huge vacation homes with breathtaking views create a quiet and comforting haven from the unmitigated force of the elements.

Silver, teal, green, gray, aquamarine -- the protean sea with its unwearying rumble hurls itself against the rocky shore, sending up great fists of foam. Frigates of cloud skate landward. The frigid California current, driven by atmospheric wind, sweeps southward and drifts westward here, invoking an even colder, deeper upwelling. During the summer months, May to September, the chilly water rises from the sea as fog. Winters are wetter. Cold fronts and warm, moist air from southwestern storms slam into the King Range, climb and condense, raining buckets upon the mountain's eastern slopes. The waters offshore swell with seals, sea lions and porpoises and -- in the winter months (December through early February) and the spring (March to mid- May) -- with gray whales on their 6,000-mile journey from the Bering Sea to Baja.

It's a great place for a picnic. Open space is plentiful thanks to the Bureau of Land Management's purchase of coastal lots to guarantee public access. Its office, which serves as the visitor's center, is just up a way on Shelter Cove Road, close to the Whitethorn junction near the post office. There you can pick up trail guides, tide tables, bear canisters and fire permits (both required for overnight stays) and check out the cool 3-D map of the King Range.

From Black Sands Beach in Shelter Cove you can catch the Lost Coast Trail heading north to the remains of the Punta Gorda Lighthouse and the mouth of the Mattole River, or south -- the far more challenging half -- up bluffs and down ravines through the Sinkyone Wilderness. The hike in either direction takes around three glute-busting, knee-jarring days. You'll encounter quite a cast of wildlife. In addition, wrens and warblers, plovers, osprey and endangered bald eagles, bear, coyotes, elk, fox, bobcats, mountain lions, skunks, raccoons and some of the biggest banana slugs you've ever laid eyes on make this region home. Other shorter hikes setting out from the area include the King Crest Trail, an 11-mile march along the spine of the King Range from Saddle Mountain Trailhead to North Slide Peak that will take you to King Peak, the highest point on the California coast north of Big Sur , and a 4-mile climb to the same summit and back known as the Lightning Trail, probably because of the switchbacks that zigzag up the mountain. Buck Creek Trail -- a 4-mile, four- plus-hour hike that takes off from Saddle Mountain Trailhead -- is one of the shortest and steepest ridge-to-beach routes. Horse Mountain Creek Trail is less aggressive, dropping only 1,800 feet to Buck Creek Trail's 3,200. Chemise Mountain Trail, one of the easier rambles, runs around 6 miles from Wailaki Campground to Needle Rock and takes about three hours. Whatever the trail, be sure to pack food, water and protection from sun and storm for your trot into tick-ville; you won't find any convenience stores, and the weather can be mercurial.

For a far less strenuous discovery tour, drive through forest and ranchland to the little blink-and-you'll-miss-'em towns of Honeydew and Petrolia. Located right in the middle of a patchwork of public property, private property and in-holdings that web the region, they are interesting stops, though hardly tourist towns. Though it'll take hours to get there, Honeydew will come and go before you know it unless you slow down on the turn. You might recognize it by the small bridge and landmark general store -- the only building on the bend or in the town -- and by the line of locals seated on its porch, sipping beers and squinting suspiciously at strangers. Contrary to what one might expect, this little store is tourist-friendly, and the owner has been known to wax loquacious about the local action, which is mostly seismic.

Petrolia, where the first California oil well was drilled, is around 11 miles farther up the curling road and a mere 5 miles from the coast. Thankfully, the oil quality was low, production poor and transport a bit of a problem, so the oil industry never took hold. There is a B&B in Petrolia. It has one room and is the only B&B in the Mattole Valley. There's also a church, a general store and several houses -- all quite picturesque in the low-key, backyard way that tends to make intruders of outsiders. It's hard not to intrude in a world that prefers isolation. Locals, though friendly, are understandably wary of tourism. Many of them see newcomers as a threat.

Eric Godson, an Idaho transplant and Vietnam vet whose trip to Mexico in the '70s took an unexpected detour to the Lost Coast, observes that many residents just want to be left alone. "We learned to live simply, with efficiency and very little waste," he says, citing geographical, meteorological and practical concerns as preoccupying. "For me, it was a place to regenerate," he adds, before getting sidetracked by recollections of a cabin aromatic with the grassy scent of hundreds of swollen marijuana buds hanging from the rafters. Now a Bay Area resident, he's surprised by how little the Lost Coast has changed. "My old 1950 Ford and '57 Jeep are still up there, towed to a neighbor's property. He says I can have them back if I want them."

It's not surprising that locals are extremely defensive and possessive about land and privacy. For a profound sense of what has been lost, spend some time in what's left of the once vast redwood groves. There you will get an impressive picture of the area's true magnificence. You can hike and camp in Rockefeller Forest -- 13,000 acres of protected sequoia sempervirens stretching along Mattole Road from the Avenue of the Giants all the way to Honeydew. The cathedral-like beauty of a woodland full of these soaring trees, some of which are more than 300 feet tall, will make you wince at the way a couple of decades of logging managed to destroy the work of millennia and understand why conservationists have been at loggerheads with lumber companies in the region. The 33-mile Avenue of the Giants is a main attraction. It skirts the perimeter of one of the last great stands of California coastal redwoods -- 52,000 acres of river and redwood established in 1918 by the Save the Redwoods League. Quite popular with tourists, it comes with the usual exploitative sideshows like Chimney Tree, the Shrine Drive Thru Tree and the Eternal Treehouse.

Whether tourist or traveler, save some time for a rejuvenating stop at the Benbow Inn, an oasis of taste and calm and a wise alternative to the crowded Benbow Recreation Area, which is crawling with campers and kids. Conveniently located on the way back from the Lost Coast, which has a notable lack of top-notch restaurants and accommodations, this three-story Tudor-style hostelry still reverberates with the rugged elegance of its glamorous past. Designed by Albert Farr, the architect who designed Jack London's Wolf House in Glen Ellen, it has hosted a rough-and-ready celebrity clientele like Spencer Tracy, Clark Gable, Alan Ladd, Basil Rathbone, Eleanor Roosevelt and Herbert Hoover since its opening in 1926. The gracious lodge-like lobby with its enormous fireplace and comfortable tables and chairs is just the spot to settle your weary bones and read or chat or nap. The dining room serves the best meals around, so if you're tired of burgers and trail mix and bugs and banana slugs, this is the place to roost, rest up and find yourself before you head on home.

For more information about hiking and camping in the King Range, check in with the Bureau of Land Management King Range National Conservation Project Office: 768 Shelter Cove Road. (707) 986-5400 or www.ca.blm.gov/Arcata.

Call of the Wild offers three-day beginner backpacking trips into the King Range: Call of the Wild, 2519 Cedar St., Berkeley, CA 94708. (510) 849- 9292, visit http://www.callwild.com/ or fax (510) 644-3811.

-- L.W.M.