Take an adventure to the Pacific Ocean with a visit to Big Sur and its nearby sites. Learn more about the wild beauty of Big Sur in this essay which gives a peek into what the area has to offer travelers.
A California original
Just after we passed Point Lobos, my 10-year-old Midwestern niece, Hannah, breathed, "Oooh, my gosh! There's nothing like this in Illinois." She had just glimpsed Big Sur's coastline for the first time. I smiled, as proud as if I'd created it myself.
"But how will we get down there?" she asked as she looked down, down, down to the crashing surf below. Hannah knew we had a horseback ride to the ocean planned, and the descent looked impossible.
"You'll see," I assured her.
I drove on, keeping my eyes on the road as we wove up and down, in and out, back and forth through the corrugated folds of Highway 1 on our way to Andrew Molera State Park.
When we crossed spectacular Bixby Bridge, Hannah insisted I stop at the first vista lookout so I could take her picture with the bridge, the ocean and the coastal cliffs in the background.
"How on earth did they build it?" she breathed as I clicked the camera.
"I have no idea," I admitted, as much in awe on my 20th crossing of the bridge as she was on her first.
The land flattened as we approached Point Sur Lighthouse, and soon we turned right into the park, following signs to the stables. While I signed waivers for our two-hour horseback ride, Hannah played with three acrobatic kittens that seemed oblivious of the horses' hooves pawing at the dirt just inches from their tiny bodies. Soon two other carloads of guests arrived, and in no time the wranglers matched horses to everyone's individual ability -- none at all, in Hannah's and my cases -- and we were on our way, following Dan, our guide for the afternoon. Nose to tail, the horses plodded in single file out of the corral, down the road and into a creek bed. When we emerged on the far side of the creek, we started across a wide meadow leading toward a sandy beach that's sheltered from the wind by a large bluff.
A heavenly horseback ride
"It can be foggy everywhere else in Big Sur, but at Andrew Molera Park, the fog bank tends to hover about a quarter mile offshore," Dan told us as we arrived on the beach. We turned to check, and sure enough, the dense fog that stopped well beyond the breaking waves cut back to shore both north and south of us. Although the horses seemed eager to start on the return trip, and some of us -- ahem! -- had difficulty bringing our steeds to a stop, we posed for picture taking in the brilliant sunshine.
Our return trip paralleled the Big Sur River part of the way and then veered across a meadow filled with wildflowers and into a forest of sycamores, oaks and madrone. When we returned to the stable, the horses headed toward the water trough at a bone-jarring trot. We slid out of the saddle and fed them carrots and apples, enjoying the feel of their soft, fleshy lips gumming our fingers.
Just six miles down the road, we turned into Pfeiffer State Park and checked into our room at Big Sur Lodge. Our cottage had a fireplace and a small kitchen, so we bought supplies for a bedtime snack and simple breakfast at the grocery store just off the parking lot. Then we headed through a redwood forest and along a babbling brook to spectacular Pfeiffer Falls. Hannah's camera came out of her fanny pack again. I glanced westward as we emerged from the forest and saw the sun beginning its nightly plunge toward the Pacific.
On to another adventure
"Hurry, Hannah," I urged. "We can't miss sunset at Nepenthe."
Clueless, Hannah obliged me and scampered into the car. It took us only five minutes to make the 2 1/2-mile trip down Highway 1, but it was just enough time for me to tell Hannah that Orson Wells and Rita Hayworth bought the property on their honeymoon but never returned to use it. Nepenthe has been a gathering place for locals and tourists since the Fassett family acquired it in 1947 and turned it into a bar and restaurant.
We bought lemonades and joined perhaps 20 others on the rear deck, arriving just in time. The lower arc of the sun had just touched the horizon, and as we rested our elbows on the railing, the sky lit up with all the colors of a mixed roll of LifeSavers. Five minutes later it was over. The spectators gave a collective sigh and then burst into polite applause. Hannah stared at the clapping people as if she were witnessing a California miracle.
I'd made dinner reservations for 7 p.m. at Deetjen's just half a mile further south. Although I knew we'd be welcomed in our jeans and flannel shirts, I smelled too much like horse for my liking, and Hannah had straw in her hair. We dashed back to the Lodge, took very fast showers, pulled on clean clothes, and arrived at the restaurant only five minutes late.
A historic place to dine
Built by Helmuth Deetjen in the early 1930s, the inn's rustic, Norwegian-style, redwood houses nestle along a stream in a shady canyon east of the highway. As one of the oldest establishments on the Big Sur Coast, Deetjen's exemplifies the lifestyle of those who first came to the area to enjoy the peace and isolation. Deetjen's old home houses the restaurant, so the many small dining areas overflow with the original family's furnishings and memorabilia.
Hannah found a pasta dish that didn't look "too Californian" to her Midwestern palate, and I chose mussels and lamb chops. The mussels in a garlicky broth made my heart sing, and I insisted Hannah try one. She stared at it, bravely ate it and said, "Mmm-hmm," before turning back to her pasta. So I ate the rest of them myself.
A scenic hike
After a simple breakfast of cereal and fruit in our cottage the next morning, we bought lunch supplies in the store and headed 10 miles south to Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, playing leapfrog with a fog bank all the way. Our admission into the park cost us nothing -- it's included in the room rate of the Big Sur Lodge. We parked and started hiking back toward the ocean along a path bordered by wild lilac, chaparral and aromatic sage and thyme. Soon we entered a short tunnel beneath the highway -- and there was the Pacific glittering ahead of us. The fog had silently rolled out to sea, and it stayed there among the freighters and fishing boats for the rest of the day.
The narrow path skirts the cliff edge where lush coastal scrub vies with garden plants such as calla lilies. Just 20 feet along the trail, we turned to look back at spectacular McWay Falls plunging onto a shallow beach. Out came the camera again. Then we continued along the recently rebuilt trail to the ruins of a private home once called Waterfall House.
"How did it get wrecked?" Hannah asked, poking at the old stairs and foundation stones.
"It was a landslide in 1983," I read from the brochure. "This coastline is always changing, and, really, the highway just isn't supposed to be here. Nature keeps trying to destroy it. Little by little, pieces of California disappear into the ocean."
Hannah watched her footing very carefully on the way back to the car. We then drove two miles north to Partington Cove, a frequent landing place for smugglers as well as for legitimate seafaring businesses. The entrance is unmarked except for a locked iron gate on the ocean side of the highway. The walk down to the cove took about 30 minutes and included a scamper through a 200-foot tunnel carved through sheer rock sometime in the 1880s. Hannah and I both reveled in the pristine stream emptying into the Pacific at the base of the cove, and we spent half an hour exploring the tidepools and catching ocean spray in our faces.
A picnic with a view
Hannah said she'd had enough of rock scrambling and hiking for a while, so we took the driveway to Ventana Inn, the first really upscale, fancy hostelry built in recent years. There's a wide, grassy turnout overlooking the Pacific about halfway up the road, and we spread out a blanket and had a picnic in the sunshine. Graceful, soaring turkey vultures circled overhead, and twice I was pretty sure I spotted a condor, a once severely endangered species that has been successfully reintroduced to the area by local conservation groups.
Hannah looked down at the ribbon of highway below us.
"Who built it?"
"Mostly convicts. The idea started with Dr John Roberts, a pioneer doctor who dreamed of a coastal road down his Monterey home so he could get to his patients faster. He became a state legislator and finally got the road built. The hardest part was that huge bridge we crossed yesterday, Bixby Bridge. The old road used to make a 10-mile loop back into the mountains to get across that deep canyon. It'll be a bumpy trip, but shall we go that route on our way home?"
Off the beaten track
She nodded her agreement, so we turned onto the old road near Andrew Molera State Park. And, indeed, it was spectacular, beginning its ascent through evergreen forests and riparian woodlands. We climbed up into the Santa Lucia mountains, composed of complex layers of marble, granite and sandstone interwoven with meadows of wildflowers and indented with streams and heavily wooded valleys. Outrageous views of the coast to the west and Big Sur Valley to the east greeted us at every other turn in the road. We twisted and turned above canyons, through redwood groves, past still-functioning pioneer ranches, and at last rejoined Highway 1 just above Bixby Bridge. A trip that would have taken 10 to 15 minutes on the highway had occupied an hour of our day. While there were times I doubted the wisdom of my decision to follow this old road, I know I'll do it again -- but maybe I'll bring a four-wheel drive next time.
As I continued driving north toward home, Hannah napped until we hit the stop-and-go traffic at The Crossroads in Carmel, a major intersection for those heading into Carmel or out toward Carmel Valley. She looked around for a few moments before asking, "Do they have colleges here?"
"Sure, why?"
"Well, I've been thinking I might want to come here when it's time for me to go to college."
I guess that means she liked it.
More about Big Sur
- Big Sur is a state of mind without rigid geographical borders,someone wise once said. Some say it ends at Nepenthe, but to others it doesn't end until Hearst Castle in San Simeon.
- Big Sur isn't a spot where you'd ever want to run out of gas. When your tank gets below half full, fill up the next time to see one of the infrequent gas stations.
- For general information on the area, contact the Big Sur Chamber of Commerce
- Road conditions can vary depending on recent rainfall. To check from within California, call (800)427-ROAD. If you're calling from out of state, call (916)445-7623.
- For information on horseback riding at Andrew Molera State Park, call the stables at (800) 942-5486.
- Get more information on Big Sur Lodge in Pfeiffer State Park
- A wonderful $10 book called A Wild Coast, And Lonely: Big Sur Pioneers by Rosalind Sharpe Wall, gets five stars from Amazon.com as a source of history of the area.
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