“For all the convenience it provides, traveling by automobile as a driver requires an odd, strangely drifting sensation of endurance.” – Old Sean
Pivoting North
Following our time in Grover Beach, Ari and I waved goodbye to Roy and his dog Buddy before turning our vehicle north to start working our way into an entirely new biosphere. We were about to traverse one of the longest states in the US, and we wanted to do so properly.
Our goal was to drive Route 1, the winding path following the dramatic cliffs and landscape of California and Big Sur.
Unfortunately, our actual start was a bit late, so it was nearly 3 PM by the time we began driving. Our first stop was just outside of Grover Beach, a slanted cliff that leads to sharp cliff known as Pirate’s Eye.
While beautifully scenic, our hunger quickly caught up to us and we drove into San Luis Obispo for Mexican food at a curbside pickup known as Tacos de Acapulco San Luis Obispo which has some of the most splendid avocado, vegetarian spring rolls I’ve ever had.
This delight fortified us as we continued up the coast. We stopped at several scenic overlooks to peer at the gradually dipping sun and stand where the wind could strafe us dramatically.
The following stop brought us to the excellent little town of Cambria, which looks like the perfect seaside town. There are lodges, pastel colors and winding roads. Also impressive is the precariously positioned Nit Wit Ridge, which is an odd, rickety structure made entirely of pebbled walls and concrete bases.
In town, we filled up on gas, but I feel the need to put a strong bit of advice here. Fill up prior to attempting Route 1. The road is long and at some point the gas prices will shoot up to truly astronomical levels. More on that later.
Seals and Shores
The drive continued to impress with beauty. We next drove alongside the protected beaches known as the Elephant Seal Vista Overlook sanctuaries. These blubbery giants lounged in great states of relaxation, often squirming about in a giant puddle of grey flesh.
Occasionally, one of the male elephant seals would arch back its head and let loose a foreign cry, like that of a gurgling drain magnified to rumble over waves and wind. Others tossed sand on top of themselves to snuggle deeper into the ground. Eager pelicans, seagulls and sand-striders congregated near the giants, giving them hopeful glances for leftover bits of fish and squid. Meanwhile, fearless ground squirrels scampered around our feet.
As cool as this was, there was a second elephant seal viewing point further on, where more of the creatures lounged.
Many were playing, nearly frolicking, in a nearby tide pool, where the still water sloshed outwards from their surprisingly swift dives. I also discovered, all alone and seemingly unconcerned, a single spotted seal curled in the sand a good distance away from its larger cousins.
Big Sur
After viewing the Elephant Seals, we ate a small snack and got back to driving. We continued from here to Ragged Point, where clouds moved in completely, ruining any chance for a fiery, western sunset.
But the quiet it brought was welcome and the coves beneath Ragged Point elicited their own sense of watery peace, accented by a fringe of hardy pines.
This was to be our final stop. From here, we had advice from friends about where to camp in Big Sur.
But we had overestimated and underprepared. Entering Big Sur leads to some of the windiest, most terrifying roads in the US. Wind-battered cliffs of grim stone hung over our heads on the right while sheer drops and saltwater sprays commandeered our left.
We wove through this road, hoping to eventually make it to our planned campsite.
Naturally, gas gradually whittled down and we were forced to stock up on fuel.
The price, however, is a bloody sin and crime and I will grind against the fact I paid it for the rest of my days.
Right now, gas in the US is at an incredible low. COVID and lack of travel has lowered demand dramatically. In Texas, we paid barely $1.39 per gallon. Meanwhile, California is already fairly expensive, at $3.79 dollars per gallon on average, which is a tough pill to swallow. But one of the only gas stations halfway through Big Sur charges an ungodly $6.59 dollars per gallon.
Blackened damn, that was a tough bill to pay. But that tank of gas was the only thing that prevented us from veering off a cliff or stall on a ledge. There are no other stops or gas stations for miles. Visitors are geographically forced to pay the rediculous admission.
Night Cliffs
Soon night had fallen and the road grew even more precarious. Attempts to stop at our planned campsites soon proved impossible. There were nearly forty-five degree angles on dirt roads which would have necessitated four wheel drives, at the very least.
Our other recommended campsites were positively teeming with Californian people, who whooped and hollered and clustered together in such numbers, Ari and I balked at stopping. There was simply no room.
With narrow roads, pre-existing exhaustion, harrowing cliffs, minimal light and deepening darkness, our trip was rapidly growing challenging. It was perhaps the second most-difficult drive of my life (the first being a snowstorm mountain drive through Western Colorado).
So on we strove. Warning signs prohibited us from turning off to the road shoulders and sleeping, though several RV campers apparently did just that.
But without a decent RV and a couple of rangers on patrol, we opted to continue. We had to force our way through the dark, the lonely, and the occasional construction site. Each town on the map revealed itself to only be a few tiny buildings, again crammed with people filling up all possible sleeping areas.
Beyond Big Sur
When we finally broke free of Big Sur’s twilight mountains, we found ourselves tired once more and camping outside a gas station with the first cellular data we’d seen in nearly five hours of coastline driving.
Unable to lock down another campsite, we threw our metaphorical hands in the air and trundled over to a large hotel in the area, where we settled down quietly for a night in the car.
The next morning was, predictably, a little cramped. We were overcome with a great desire to get a move on, rather than struggle around the area peering at the tourist sites I had listed as potential attractions.
Despite our impatience, I insisted on a surprise stop.
Ari has a great and well-known love of chickens. So I made a point of veering our route past a very special little area in Aptos, known as the Glaum Chicken Ranch.
Organic and free range, this place sells some high quality eggs from a bright red barn. Even better, if one inserts four crisp one-dollar bills, animatronic chickens begin to dance, cheering your financial decision.
They had been updated for the times, dressed in American fanfare pageantry and parade attire while also wearing the ever-iconic masks of COVID.
Last Coast and Leg
Afterwards, we had some amazing bagels at Bagelry in Santa Cruz. Unfortunately, this was all we really got to see, as we basically bypassed the city and continued on our way.
We did attempt to stop at the “Mystery Spot,” a strange tourist attraction that supposedly has a location with a gravitational anomaly. I was perplexed, but we ultimately ended up skipping this, since the crowd out front was sizeable enough to deter us.
Afterwards, we blew through Sacramento and finally arrived at the charming Grass Valley.
We have people to meet and stay with here in Grass Valley, so I’m looking forward to a few moments of rest. But soon enough, we’ll surely be driving north once more.
Best regards and excellent trails,
Old Sean
Written July 29th 2020
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I bought this Horizon Hound Trek Blanket for a late-autumn trek in the United States. Since then, it’s gone everywhere with me. The blanket is lightweight, stuff-able, warm and durable. But my favorite features are the buttons. The blanket can be buttoned up the sides, turning it into a long thermal poncho when I don’t want to leave the warmth of my bed.
