Wednesday, April 29, 2009

Big Sur - Day Two

 The Dish and I were up early again. I slept well considering our new environment. The only aspect of the yurts that's truly tent-like is the thin piece of cloth separating us from them. 

Our bed was comfortable, and the blanket count sufficed. A constant ocean breeze raced through camp bringing on cold conditions, but we stayed warm.

The main house offered free coffee and make-your-own waffles. 
Everything tasted decent. 

We talked to a few strangers, looked at a few items adorning the 
walls and then we raced off up the coast.

I had to stop and take some pictures along the way.

We decided when we return to Big Sur we will camp for real; we missed the fire pit.
 But if we ever have the money to stay at another Big Sur resort we 
will stay at Deetjen's Big Sur Inn. 

Deetjen's is old, and to be honest a bit frightening. 
A few vintage cabins are scattered around a small piece of property
 and we heard the doors can only be locked from the inside.

The honchos were kind enough to install a lock on 
the door in the picture below. 

Deetjen's property line burrows into the woods. A private road in the back makes for a nice hike up to an old wooden bench with a view of the ocean.  

We could see the residual of the fire that raged here last summer. 


A stranger told us that if the fire would have enveloped Deetjen's the historic property would have been lost forever, never to be rebuilt again. Apparently all the cabins are not built to modern code, because they haven't been fully refurbished since the 1930s-1940s. 

After snooping around we hit the road again. Next stop, Nepenthe. 
Supposedly this is one of the oldest (and best) gift shops in Big Sur. 

I don't agree, because among all the fancy artwork and drapery 
there were no patches to be found. 


We spoke to another stranger before we left Deetjen's. The gentleman told us of a beach with purple sand, but we had to blah, blah, blah...blah...blah. He started spouting off exact miles from exact points on an exact road. Apparently there were no signs and the one-way dirt road was inconspicuous. 
We were never going to find this place.

But we found it.


We strolled. We ate. We played Frisbee. 



Then we were off on another hike. 

This time we found a trail along the side of the main highway, so we parked next to all the other cars along the street. 

The McWay Waterfall House trail lead us to the terrace of the house that once stood there. Lathrop and Helen Hooper Brown used to own the house and also owned hundreds of acres in Big Sur. In 1962 Helen gave the property to the state and she named it after her friend Julia Phieffer. 

I also read that one of Helen's wishes was that no one would ever be 
allowed access to the beach by the waterfall. 
 
Below is a photo from another trail we found.

On our way back to Treebones I noticed a lot of these wooden stairways situated over barbed wire along the side of the highway. On the other side there are trails that lead to the cliffs over looking the ocean. We will explore them next time. 

When night fell we layered ourselves up, grabbed 
two bottles of wine, my camera and my tripod. 

We walked the perimeter. 
We snapped photos.
We drank.



In the post before there is a picture of us sitting on red Adirondack chairs watching the sun fall into the ocean. 

We sat there again, but this time we looked up. 
Tricia saw her first satellite.




By the end of the evening we owned the place. 
We made construction plans. 
We laid out where and when things would happen. We were the proprietors, the security. That's exactly why it was OK to spill a cup of wine on the walkway. 
We would clean it up after we were done laying there, 
or whenever we felt like it. 


Soon we were the animals, the wind, then the grass. We were content, happy.

Then, sometime early in the morning, ravaged by a noxious stomach,  I was just a wet-eyed guest hugging a trash can. 





Sunday, April 19, 2009

Big Sur


We were up and on the move a bit after 4 a.m. on Thursday. I drove first. My eye lids started dropping around Santa Barbara. Tricia took the wheel, but first, we needed grub. The early morning hours choked any normal civility one could have during that time. We tried dining at a Denny's like an old couple, but instead we laughed, pushed and teased. The scene fully matured when Tricia blew boogers from her nose; she darted for the ladies room. If I were only a bit funnier orange juice would have been included. From the look on the waitress's face I gathered we were no where near her normal Thursday morning crowd.


After a couple bathroom visits we wished the waitress a swell day and hit the road. I dozed in and out until we approached Morro Bay.


It was just like I remembered it: cool, damp and beautiful.


The rock had not changed, but the water teemed with life. A group of seals were strangely floating there and I believe I saw a bat ray descend deeper below the water's surface.

The photo below is for Dean.

We stayed for an hour or so and when I finished my love affair with the seals
we left for Cayucos.



Cayucos is a sleepy little beach town. The main street consists of a short strip of shops, some of which look old, and others quite modern, but nothing too fancy. There is a fishing pier (pictured below) and there is a quaint family-style restaurant that turned me on to Pepper Plant sauce. We ended up finding the little mart that carried it and we bought two. 

We found Moonstone Beach on our last trip to the Central Coast. It's basically Cambria, but the signs say Moonstone. We ate clam chowder and fish and chips then took a stroll along the coast.



The elephant seal vista point is near Hearst Castle. We stopped, along with a hundred strangers, and bathed in their stink.  


Treebones abruptly appeared. Big Sur owns small signs. Adding to our confusion was the resident cool guy; Oakleys and all. He was working on the sign and his truck practically blocked the entrance. If you've ever been to Big Sur you know people drive like the Devil is chasing them. I pulled off in a rush and made a scene full of dust while I screeched to a stop wondering if I had made the right decision. I did. I simply had to pull around the work truck and make my way up a serpentine road. 


We settled in to our yurt and spent the rest of the day exploring the perimeter and beyond. By beyond I mean the ex-meth lab we stumbled on across the highway. 

Above: The front door.
Below: The front door, sink and Tricia. 

Above: The bed and table.
Below: Our little heater. It works well if you place your ass really close to it.

Above: The ceiling. It had a hard plastic covering and at night we could see the stars.
Below: Another yurt perched on the hill side. 

Above: The same yurt, but with an example of the view. 
Below: Yurts are on top of the hill. We hiked down to explore another trail across the highway.


Above: The trail we were curious about.
Below: About the point we stopped hiking. These vehicles looked like the residual of a violent temper tantrum. To the left sits an old dilapidated shed-like home. We stopped and turned around. Later, I asked the front desk guy if he knew anything about the place and he said supposedly an old former astronaut owns the land, but hasn't done anything to it for years. Apparently the old man is a bit looney. Since the land has just sat there people have used it to squat, and at one point it was used to cook meth.

Here's an example of a different kind of camping. They call it The Nest. You spend about $90 a night for a camp site, but this creation comes with it. People sleep in it, read in it, think in it and probably fuck in it, but now I'm just guessing.

Here's the view from the inside.

After exploring, we started drinking. 

Then we watched the sun fall.




At night we played war, we ate peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and we slowly fell asleep to the sound of wind whipping through the loose flaps outside of our yurt. The tree branches rustled above our heads and an occasional Big Sur racer cruised by, but sleep was good.