Up till now my central coast trip has been in and around Morro Bay. Today, I decided to go up Highway 1 to see the part of that road that clung precariously to the side of a mountain. This would be that part of Highway 1, driving to Big Sur.
This trip would not go all the way through to Monterrey. Apparently, rock slides closed the road over a year ago. This happened somewhere called “Paul’s Slide.” In the vicinity of Limekiln State Park, about 35 miles north of the elephant seal rookery, the road is closed. Expected re-opening is in spring of 2024 — but has not happened yet.
Elephant Seals Aplenty — All Asleep
To begin, coming out of Cayucos, and I stopped to see the elephant seals. It was about three o’clock in the afternoon, and the seals were there but they weren’t doing anything. They were lying about the beach, like pins knocked over by a huge bowling ball. One or two of them languidly tossed sand on themself with their flippers. The rest were lying still looking incredibly pudgy and immobile. The phrase “beached whale” came to mind.
Reading a sign at the viewing station, I noticed that March is the end of the mating season for these seals. I could see what had happened. Last night, it was a colossal party … and now they were sleeping it off. The males appeared to be about four times the size of the females (a frightening concept). Further, the males seemed to have forgotten their much-discussed rage and fighting with each other. They were sleeping peacefully on the south end of the beach.
I took pictures and went on.
San Simeon State Beach
My next stop in driving to Big Sur was San Simeon State Beach. I stopped for a few minutes to look at the old pier (now gated off, so you can look but not touch). I came this way in 2002 with my young children. There is a treasured picture from long ago, of my sons Victor and Brian aged five and seven. They are standing in the shallow waves next to each other, staring out to sea in brotherly solidarity. Having no little kids with me today, I couldn’t reprise the shot. But I did spend a lot of time today trying to capture the waves breaking under the pier.
Victor and Brian have since fallen out. Although I can imagine them today as young men, standing in the spot where they were 20 plus years ago, actually having them do so would be problematic. The space where they were then was occupied today by a man with a long white beard, holding the leash of a small dog.
Past Hearst Castle
I drove on to Big Sur, past Hearst Castle, which we visited in 2002 as well. I had bought a biography of Hearst on that trip and read it carefully. Hearst possessed massive wealth, much of which he inherited. He did build on his inheritance through his Hearst magazine and newspaper empire. Hearst and his wife had five sons. Through the years, Heart had several noted love affairs. He finished his life in the Castle with his B-movie star mistress, Marion Davies. Various luminaries flew up to Hearst Castle every weekend to party the night away and watch movies in his screening room.
I remember my mother taking me to Hearst Castle when I was seven. The swimming pools and the library impressed me tremendously. I also remember a family friend saying “what is God going to say to Hearst when he gets to heaven? ‘Well, Hearst, what did you do with all that money I gave you? You spent it building a palace and having movie starts and producers flown up from LA to visit you on the weekends?”
The joke concluded with a gesture, one of pulling a lever to release the trap door and send poor Hearst to the Bad Place. I laughed, of course, at the time, yet thinking about it now, I feel guilty for doing so. Hearst, despite all his achievements, seemed like a strangely sad and alienated figure. Not exactly someone who needed to be further punished. At his death, his family gave Hearst Castle to the State of California, because the property was too much trouble and the taxes were outlandish.
I thought of going today to see the Castle again but decided it was too late already. The tour takes a couple of hours, depending on which one you choose. And I didn’t have that long.
Ragged Point
I drove on up the road and began to see the types of exposures (cliffs) and curves I remember so well from trips up Highway 1 in the past. When there’s cliffs, I forget all the green pastures and quaint towns. And as the car rounded a bend, I saw drop offs and guard rails up ahead.
My solo status suddenly weighed on me. In the old days, there would be a man driving the car. I could just close my eyes and pray. But here I was, I had to make those turns myself. I slowed down as much as I dared. A motorcycle whipped around me. I descended a hill and drove around a corner. Ahead, a 15 miles per hour sign. “Oh no, oh no … ” I thought. But though a hairpin, it wasn’t on a cliff. I got through it, keeping my eyes on the road. Stay inside the lines.
No Coffee This Time, But There Was a Koi Pond
I stopped at Ragged Point Inn and Resort. There was a sign out about coffee, though as it turned out, the coffee shop had closed for the day (3:30 p.m.) Still, I was able to walk around the grounds, which were green and pleasant, see the koi in the fish pond, and go to an observation point where I could see the sheer coast hanging above the water, and a tiny line of road running through it. I took pictures, some of which are below.
And Paul’s Slide?
There was the possibility of driving another 25 miles to get to Paul’s Slide, but I decided Ragged Pont was far enough. I turned the car around and went back down the cliff-ridden path to the pastures below. When I got back on the flat, I breathed a sigh of relief. The cliffs were behind me. This evening, I located these two pictures from Caltrans which show a bit of what has been happening at Paul’s Slide.
I asked the AirBnB host, Barely, what was up with a road closed for over a year, and he said “old road, global warming causing excessive rains… ” The conjecture seemed to be that Highway 1 was hit or miss from here on out.
As for me, I had at least proved to myself that I could drive Highway 1 through Big Sur. I had gotten to Ragged Point, so all I had to do was keep going and stay within the lines. This reflection seems worthwhile as one of the “koans” I’m collecting about life on this trip. Keep going, and stay inside the lines. And tomorrow is another day.
