Where I Find Myself: Big Sur
On a hot Wednesday in July, I battled four hours of holiday traffic to lose myself in the California coast.
The people in my life are the best people. I get energy from them, and conversations I care about make me feel more connected to everything.
But sometimes, I need to turn off.
I need physical, mental, and metaphysical space.
I need mountain air and unknown roads.
In honor of these needs, I decided to celebrate my independence on a road trip through Big Sur during July 4th weekend.
My first stop was a beach in Carmel.
In the Bay Area, you’ll hear things like “Transplants don’t know shit about San Francisco” ,“Tourists love standing in the middle of the street”, etc.
But watching the sun go down on a random beach in Carmel with two German-speaking travelers next to me, was a bonding experience. I don’t think I’ve ever felt that at any crowded landmark in San Francisco.
Once I arrived in Big Sur, the cliffs sliced into the ocean at every curve.
Each view surfaced a deep blue, a new coastline, a subtle rearrangement of earth. The twilight sky and silent, crowded turnouts made me feel like we were all in the same dream.
I finally got to Big Sur Lodge at 9 pm. My room didn’t have WiFi or cell reception, so sleep was easy.
I woke up early the next morning, excited for Big Sur Bakery.
This cozy bakery runs out of a single-storyhouse built in 1936.
I sat in the sun with pistachio cake and a cappuccino, reading interviews with female entrepreneurs. I considered my values and biggest visions for the future.
My next stop was Nepenthe — “a drug described in Homer’s Odyssey as banishing grief or trouble from a person’s mind.”
Here you have
- a gift shop;
- a cafe overlooking the valley;
- a restaurant with pillows on long wooden benches.
The gift shop and extensive menu are nice, but they’re not the focus. It’s the cold air, rising up from the trees. It’s the sky, melting into the sea, so blue you can’t tell where one ends and the other begins. It’s the murmurs of guests around you as you sip a mug of hot coffee, walking around scattered tables to the balcony overlooking the mountainside.
Next, I drove south, towards Pfeiffer Park and Los Padres Forest. I didn’t have any stops in mind.
I pulled over at Partington Cove when I saw cars parked at the turnout. Everyone was walking in one direction, so I followed them.
Partington Cove used to be a lumber dock in the 1800s, where tree trunks were pushed onto ships. The loading tunnel is still intact.
After the tunnel, you emerge onto a small cliff overlooking glassy, turquoise water.
After the cove, I had my preferred last meal on earth — a burger and wine — at Lucia Lodge. I needed the fuel before stopping at Henry Miller Library.
This bookstore’s filled with controversial titles, dedicated to a writer who spent lots of time in Big Sur and inspired the beat poets.
When you enter the wooden gates, a bride and groom stand beside a broken piano. Their wrists!
After petting the quintessential wandering cat inside, I grabbed Michael Pollan’s How to Change Your Mind. If you contort your body just right, you can find a seat to get lost in your reading. There are also tables and chairs in the meadow surrounding the bookstore.
The rest of the day was spent on classic Big Sur spots I’d never seen:
1) McWay Falls, which had been closed for a long time after fires and floods. It was a beautiful surprise to see it open. The waterfall is slender, and its colors are so vivid.
2) Andrew Molera Park. Popular campground with lots of diverging paths, a peaceful creek, and a postcard-worthy beach.
The beach is the end point of Creamery Trail. It’s also a surf spot.
After a long day of sun and driving, I slept at 9 pm again. Why don’t I do that more?
The next morning, I woke up unready to leave. I figured a little more exploration couldn’t hurt.
Coincidentally, Pfeiffer campground was the backyard of Big Sur Lodge where I was staying. I wandered in with my morning coffee, drifting along the waterbed and soaking in the quiet.
I found a cabin where park rangers live. Wished it was my house.
After forcing myself back on the road, I snuck in my final stop: Garrapata Beach.
Out of all my stops, this was the coldest. The wind crept beneath my jacket and sweater, making my scalp tingle. The waves kept thrashing against the rocks, one of my favorite visuals ever.
Driving back along the coast, I questioned everything. In our lifestyle today, we have to architect experiences to steal time in the environment that birthed us, housed us, for millions of years.
There’s a John Muir quote that I come back to, over and over:
“Keep close to Nature’s heart… and break clear away, once in awhile, and climb a mountain or spend a week in the woods. Wash your spirit clean.”
We tap into ancient rhythms when we explore, absorb, and pause in the present. It shouldn’t have to be a holiday for that to happen. I’ve promised myself to do this again, every 3 months, and document as many of these moments as I can.
