The next 4 days of driving, down the section I had looked forward to the most, Big Sur, were nothing short of heavenly. The best scenery of the trip so far (and that was saying something). I was instantly in love and in tune with the vibe of the untamed Central Coast. THIS was the California that I had heard about my whole life and longed to see! Where they live to surf.
The views and vistas from the constant turnouts alongside the road were unparalleled. Blue, not a cloud in the sky sky, winding road, cliffs, trees, bridges, rocks, and the wonderful Pacific Ocean combined for views that looked lke paintings. It hurt my eyes, it was so vivid and beautiful. I literally felt like I was dreaming. Around every new curve was yet another view that you just had to pull over and photograph, and everyone was doing just that. I had no qualms this time about playing the tourist and joined in, snapping away. I was in my element, creative juices flowing. These were the views to store up for the winter when I was back in Colorado and having a down day, not to mention something to record to say, “Yes, I was here. I saw this. Bitch.” I couldn’t stop saying, “Wow!” or “Oh My God” as I pulled over again and again (all the while towing Hammy mind you, on the twisting, turning, scary roads if you’re not used to them because you don’t live in Colorado roads). Yes, the views really ARE that good but they just have to be seen to be believed. Do make it a point to do this drive once in your lifetime if you can. It definitely ranks right up there for me and I can’t wait to get back.
Arriving around 7 pm at the end of a very great day after 5 hrs. of driving that, if driven straight through would have taken me about an hour and a half, my first stop of this legendary drive was at Limekiln* State Park. Located on a sharp left turn off the highway (if you’re traveling south) on a curve, directly at the end of a bridge, you have to really be careful here, pay attention, and be ready to turn in and go DOWN. Luckily I had been letting traffic go around me all day and had no one behind me so we eased on in, put it in 1st gear and crawled down the one lane road to the check-in kiosk. I saw my reservation on the board - Hunter, Site 7. Since they had already closed, I knew I would have to find the site on my own in the waning light.
Looking around, I saw no one camping or anywhere TO camp. Just the kiosk, the Campground Hosts’ trailer, and a parking area up a steep paved hill next to what looked like the restrooms and showers. To the left there was a small lane with a white bridge going down to the beach. Since the ocean was to my left and I reasoned there was no camping down there (I assumed the one lane road was a foot bridge since it was blocked off with a cone), I started to pull forward up the steep hill toward the restroom building. “Hey!” someone shouted, “Where are you going?” It was the Campground Host (which, btw, I’m finding out at this point usually means “Resident Stoner” when we’re talking about a rather remote campground ). “Um, I have a reservation for Hunter. I was going to my campsite?” I replied quizzically. “Well you’re down there”, he pointed, “On the beach. No RV’s or trailers are allowed in the Hillside camping area, that’s tent camping only, and put the cone back after you cross the bridge. Good night and have a good time”, he replied, slamming the door to his trailer shut, sounding rehearsed and all the while clutching his left arm as if it hurt immensely. “All righty then Mr. Grump A Lump”, I thought to myself, “Sorry to bother you” and what, wait a minute. Did he say - I’m on the beach???
Sure enough, as I backed up slightly, turned left, and pulled Hammy and us forwards toward the small, white bridge crossing a stream, someone saw us coming and removed the cone for us. I felt like royalty, entering the beach camping area because I was one of the chosen few who had been smart enough to make our reservations 4 months ago. Only 12 campsites on the beach, and I had one of them. I do have to admit, it felt quite special and I LIKED IT, so there!
As soon as you pull into what looks like the parking lot, you realize this is it, THIS IS the campground. The campsites are only slightly larger than a big parking space. OK, I thought, this is going to take me an hour to get Hammy backed in without killing one of my neighbors by running over them. So in that regard, along with there being no hookups, it was primitive camping. Yes, we were kind of on top of one another, but no, we kinda didn’t care, as the ocean was RIGHT THERE.
As I maneurvered to get Hammy backed in, everyone was very helpful and ready to lend a hand if I needed it; I was pleasantly surprised and instantly felt welcome. By some miracle, I was backed in and unhooked in under 15 min. Hammy is a real ice breaker and combined with Jack & Bella, everyone accepted us immediately as a welcome addition to the It crowd. We were a hit and it was a nice way to end the day. The commotion soon died down, however, and everyone went back to their campsites. We all then respected each others' privacy for the rest of the time and we left each other alone for the most part. No one was unfriendly, but we were all involved in doing our own thing and that was ok with all of us. It was mostly families and some couples and then there were a few surfer rowdies staying up on the hill like howling monkeys at night, drinking and then passing out, living the dream.
After I unhooked Hammy from the Tahoe and got set up, I paused to take my first real look around. I had to pinch myself; good God, did I really do this, book such a fantasamal spot? The ocean was no more than 50 yds away and you could hear it, bouncing off the narrow walls of the canyon and the bridge above us. Hmmm, I thought, not a bad way to spend my first night in Big Sur, if I DO say so myself, since basically there was no one else around to say it.
I put the dogs on leashes immediately to explore in what little light we had left. Of course we headed right for the beach. It was nothing more than a rocky area with rough sand, probably no more than 100 yds long. I took the dogs over to drink from the creek right where it was joining the ocean. Jack seemed confused about the fresh versus the salt water, but Bella of course climbed right in, wading happily. As we crossed over the stream to the other side of the beach, I stepped over a short, rocky rise and was just about to step on to what looked to be a very large rock when I realized at almost the last possible second, HOLY SHIT THAT'S A SEAL!! In the dim light and on its back, it was perfectly camoflauged as a rock. Everyone was staring at me, giving me dirty looks, like I KNEW the damn thing was there and was just going to go up to it with my dogs and harrass it or something. Um, hello people? How about a little fucking heads up that there is a 200 lb creature lying here that I almost STEPPED ON, Jesus Christ!!! I just got here, for God’s sake, let me in on the local news will ya? Once I got over my shock, I pulled the dogs away and we observed it from a safe distance. Just one, lone Harbor Seal, taking a break apparently from his herd or pod, as they don’t normally hang out alone like this, surrounded by humans. I thought perhaps at first that it might be dead and no one had the guts to remove it, it laid there so still, but then he finally opened his eyes momentarily and shifted positions, confirming that he was, very much alive.
Bella took care of business right there on the beach like a cat in kitty litter, right in front of everyone, scratching with her back legs in the sand after she was done and all the while giving the crowd her defiant, “yes I just did that” stare. Embarrassed, I pulled them off the beach and in the other direction. It soon became apparent that there was NO WHERE for Jack to poop. (for future reference, please note that Jack cannot do his business unless he is off leash, can run 100 yds into some bushes with complete privacy where he is sure no one is watching but will still look around to make sure, and he knows I will never be able to find it to clean it up. Then, he will go). Even in tent camping up on the hill, the sites were too close together and dogs weren’t allowed on the only trail. So back to Hammy we trekked. On the way back Jack understood this was his last chance and found a tiny clump of bushes to make do. Good deal, good boy.
With nothing else to do really until morning, I settled in happily with as many windows open as would open, which in Hammy right now is only 3, along with the overhead fan. I even took the battery out of the clock so that all I would hear all night long was that sweet Pacific crashing in my ears. Later, the fog rolled in and it actually got cold enough to see your breath! I needed a coat to go out and an extra blanket on the bed that night, something that astonished me for this part of Cali but man, did I sleep like a baby that night. The traffic buzzing by intermittently during the night over all of our heads didn’t even bother me.
Waking up the next morning to campground chatter on top of the waves crashing and smelling bacon, coffee, etc. was again tantalizing on the senses. I was immediately up, dressed, and out to take the dogs. Surfers had crashed our cone zone, coming across the sacred bridge to act like campers in order to go surfing. Hey, no fair! Get out, this is our spot punks! I shouted this in my head but I guess they didn’t hear me.
Knowing we had exhausted all pooping ground opportunities down here the previous night for Jack (Bella, as I’m sure you have surmised, will go anywhere. Bitch.), this time I headed for the entrance/exit road, as that was the only other place TO go. As we ascended the steep drive, a sharp, VERY loud “CHIP!” was heard from the rockface high up beside us on our left. A pika, ground squirrel, or other marmot-like animal was letting us know that he did not appreciate the intrusion. Jack was instantly on high alert, trying to spot it, as was I. We are usually both pretty good at picking things out, but we never did figure out exactly where the sound was coming from during the whole rest of our stay. With the acoustics in the canyon, sound played tricks on you.
In getting the full 50 cent tour of the campground in the daylight, you could see how the California Parks Dept. had taken advantage of the opportunity to put a park here, in an otherwise very small space. Limekiln is situated in a slot canyon, under a bridge, where Hare Creek follows the crevices of least resistance down in order to keep its appointment with the sea. With, as I also found out that morning, absolutely ZERO cell signal of any kind. It was then that I realized that I hadn’t really checked in with my kids or Michael for over 40+ hrs now. So after breakfast we quickly set out, to see some of the parks we had passed yesterday, along with finding what I felt sure would be a strong cell signal once I got up out of this hole.
Fifteen miles later back north to the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, we discovered there was a hefty day use fee and again, virtually nowhere to park or hike. So back south towards Limekiln we went. I again passed Esalon for the third time, the world famous self-improvement & enlightenment retreat I had been hearing about for years and longed to go to, so this time I decided to stop out of curiosity. I drove down a steep embankment to the guard shack. A friendly “guard” lady told me I couldn’t come in because they get too many lookie loos, but she handed me a thick book of all of their programs, showed me where I could turn around, and sent me on my way. The establishment sits on one of the most gorgeous views and landscaping you've ever seen in your life, bar none.
On the way back to the campground I stopped at every turnout on the way back to check my phone. Nothing. Not even a hint of a signal. At one turnout, in yet another one of the most beautiful spots along the whole coast, I pulled over to see a magnificent tree and to get up close and personal. This tree had to be over 150-200 yrs old - the thought that it had stood here in this spot, totally unshielded from everything the Pacific Ocean and the wind had thrown at it all these years, suddenly filled me with unspeakable emotion. This tree was literally The Tree of Life. It embodied the very essence of what life was about. Enduring hardships to rise again and again, and become stronger for it. I hugged the tree, thanked it, and admired with fascination the way its pine cones grew differently from other conifers I’d seen. Ever since June Lake, where I had begun seeing giant pine cones and collecting them, I had become fascinated anew with this seed-spewing pod. The different sizes, characteristics, etc. I found very cool. On this great tree, the pine cones grew out diagonally along the trees' branches, hugging them tightly from underneath. It was as if they had evolved that way over time because of the wind they had surely been battered with over the years and needed to hand on now for dear life in order to have any hope of reproducing.
I picked up the only pine cone on the ground from the tree and turned to go. Suddenly, my phone somehow caught a signal from space and started going crazy with text messages coming in. Shit! I backed up slightly to try and catch the signal again. One more text came in. I started reading them, and the chain of events became clear. Michael was genuinely and clearly worried about me. The last time I had been on the phone with him was when I saw the people with the vintage camper pulling into New Brighton up in Monterey Bay and told him I was going to find them and talk with them. His imagination went wild from there and he envisioned me duct taped & tied & on my way to Mexico (which, at any other time, wouldn't sound so bad right, but without Michael, no dice. Shit. I had no intention of anyone worrying about me, but it was also so unlike Michael to EVER worry that I hadn't given it a thought for him not to hear from me for a few days. Awwwww. I got all warm and fuzzy inside suddenly - the big lunk DOES care about me. His last text said if he didn’t hear from me THAT morning that he was going to call the CA State Highway Patrol to have them start looking for me. Awwwwwww again. He's sending CHiPS out after me!! I always did dig those uniforms, right ladies? Thanks honey, you're the best!! There were also a few texts from my oldest daughter, saying that Michael was calling and texting her and was I ok?
I sent Taylor a “Hey, I’m ok, no signal tty tomorrow” text and it went out. Mission accomplished. Contact established with the outside world. I then started banging out a text to Michael, as I knew calling would be useless with such a weak signal. I typed too much and his text refused to go out. I tried another shorter one, just one sentence, and that too failed. Whatever signal I’d had was gone. I walked all over the turnout, holding my phone up in the in air to no avail. Oh well, I thought, Taylor will maybe let Michael know I am ok. Maybe.
Driving seven miles past Limekiln, there was still no cell signal anywhere. Defeated, I returned to camp. I had no choice but to wait until morning to contact my peeps. Besides, I was still glowing inside a little over Michael being so worried. I kinda wanted to see what lengths he would go to to find me. The dogs and I took our final walk on the beach and I got packed up as much as I could to get out early the next morning, hitching Hammy up and then making a simple dinner.
I reveled in the simplicity of life while camping. Yes, it can be work, but no more so than when you are at home, and in many ways, much less. There is no yard work other than sweeping my mat off, no real house cleaning other than wiping off surfaces, washing dishes, sweeping the floor, and doing bug control. We were like a little village here, everyone co-existing peacefully. Life truly is good on the road and I was in love with this lifestyle. I relished my last night camping next to the ocean listening to the waves; I didn’t want to fall asleep, never wanted it to end.
I awoke at 1 am and lay there just thinking, listening to the late night sounds mix with the sound of the waves crashing on the shore. Suddenly a different kind of crash came from the campsite next to mine - midnight marauders! A raccoon had knocked something over on the picnic table. I was amazed at the speed with which the dad sprang from his VW Vanagon camper; I swear it took him no more than 2 seconds and he was outside, flashlight in hand. I peeked out the window then went back to bed. It wasn’t 5 minutes later that the raccoon decided to give us a try. Jack heard the coon trying to get into the cooler and gave a warning “chuff”. I grabbed a flashlight and casually opened the door; I had gotten used to them by now at other campgrounds and routinely placed heavy objects on top of the cooler to ensure they couldn’t get in. I swung the door open and was greeted with - GREAT MOTHER OF JESUS!!! The creature standing beside the cooler on 2 legs resembled something more like a small bear cub than a raccoon. It was twice the size of Bella and gave me a casual glance as if to say, “hey, can you get that light out of my eyes, I'm trying to get something to eat here?” I actually had to make a move towards it before it scuttled away into the darkness down into the creek. Usually, as soon as you get back into bed and get all comfortable they come back, but for some reason this one decided to stay gone. I slept the rest of the night in peace until awakening early at 6 am.
Unable to fall back asleep, I took the dogs for one last walk, ate a light breakfast and we were on the road at a record breaking 7:37 am. The drive was amazing; early morning fog still blanketed everything and was rolling across the road from the ocean. People were out for their morning walks and bike rides. I passed an amazing campground right on the ocean and made note of it for future trips - the Kirk Creek Campground. Now THESE people were camping in style! I wondered how far in advance you had to make reservations here. It was out in the open and there were no hookups here either, but it was perched right on the Big Sur coast with incredible views. As I drove through the campground just to look, everyone knew there wasn’t a spot to be had and gave me that look - yeah, no vacancy here. Bitch. I smiled and just drove on - next year. Bitches.
I could have spent the whole morning walking the foggy fields and beaches of Pacific Valley; the few that live here truly are lucky, with both solitude and beauty to call home. I was truly envious, but it was time to get down out of the cliffs and to a viable cell signal. It was over 25 miles in total after leaving Limekiln, coming down off the cliffs on winding roads and back down to the flatlands before I picked up a strong signal.
I immediately pulled over as more notifications poured into my phone. I called Michael first and gave him some light hearted shit about freaking out and calling everyone, then seriously told him never to do it again. Hunter had a rule, a big sign that hung in his kitchen, which was also his “office”. It read, “Never, EVER, call 911. This means you.” I subscribe to the same. If Michael didn’t know where I was, then no one was going to know, and I didn’t need my family or children freaking out unnecessarily. It turned out anyway that Taylor had informed him that she had heard from me the day before so he didn’t put the APB out on me. Darn. I found myself a little disappointed; the idea of having the law looking for me had been kind of exciting.
After calling the girls to let them know all was well, I hung up the phone and put it back on the non-skid pad on my dash. I pulled back onto Highway One and soon saw a sign up ahead: “Elephant Seal Viewing Area”, One Mile. I got into the right lane and put my blinker on. The sky was blue, the temperature was an exquisite 68, I was back on the road with Hammy, going to the next place up ahead, to see the next great thing. It was good to be back in civilization, but getting lost for 2 days in Big Sur has been the best thing that has happened to me in a very long time. The feeling of peace and serenity I will long carry with me. Thank you Big Sur; I needed that. And thanks, Tree, for the wisdom: “Never be afraid to branch out”. I’ll be seeing ya again soon.
Until next time, I’m living small and loving it largely
Eli “The Gonzo” Hunter
For full photo album of complete trip, follow me on Facebook @ https://www.facebook.com/eli.hunter.94
* - Limekiln - Lime kilns are what they use to change limestone, which is primarily calcium carbonate (CaCO3) into CaO which is quicklime + CO2. There also is usually a hydrated complex attached to the limestone so this firing in the kiln detaches the water that is attached to the limestone core compound.
Quicklime is the primary ingredient in mortar and cement. CaO reacts with water to set up a reaction that forms a cement type rock structure. Mix it with sand and gravel and it is concrete.
Without the incineration of lime (marble is just a form of limestone) if you just ground up the limestone or marble , it would never react with water to form a hard cement. The heat actually drives off the water vapor and CO2 in the compound, which makes it reactive to water after changing into CaO from CaCO3*H2O (hydrated calcium carbonate or limestone)
(Bet you didn’t know you’d get a science lesson here of all places! :))
