There is no such place as Clayton Beach. It’s a trick. Zach and I tried to find it but couldn’t. The trails we followed took us over train tracks on a blind corner, down steep rooted muddy ledges, and eventually within 3 feet of a cliff that offered certain death-by-barnacled-beach-rocks. Danger danger danger, every step of the way. It’s a miracle we made it out of there alive.
Heeyyy. Wait a tick. Maybe this isn’t a trick beach at all. Perhaps it’s something far more sinister. Was all that danger there on purpose? Who knows, but it’s possible we just escaped from the mouth of a real live tourist trap.