Dawn came in slowly in the redwoods, the soft light filtered by the big trees. I had to be at work early, so I ventured out for a run. Here at Big Sur, in the state park, the trails were soft and easy to follow, unlike the rock-strewn climbs I endure at home. I ran a loop past Pfeiffer Falls and the Valley View trails and then along the still-sleeping campground and the river path. A few people jonesing for coffee hung around the still-closed lodge, but other than that, I had the place to myself.
Despite how crowded it is, Big Sur is a stunning place. My co-workers and I had returned for a second phase of our work project, and this time we were able to stay right in the heart of the state park. Sometimes when I travel for work, I succumb to the lure of television, since I don't have it at home, but here we had none, and no internet either. This was the way things should be, I found myself thinking. Read a book, fall asleep by nine, wake with the dawn. Eat fresh salmon every night..
Dawn came in slowly in the redwoods, the soft light filtered by the big trees. I had to be at work early, so I ventured out for a run. Here at Big Sur, in the state park, the trails were soft and easy to follow, unlike the rock-strewn climbs I endure at home. I ran a loop past Pfeiffer Falls and the Valley View trails and then along the still-sleeping campground and the river path. A few people jonesing for coffee hung around the still-closed lodge, but other than that, I had the place to myself.
Despite how crowded it is, Big Sur is a stunning place. My co-workers and I had returned for a second phase of our work project, and this time we were able to stay right in the heart of the state park. Sometimes when I travel for work, I succumb to the lure of television, since I don't have it at home, but here we had none, and no internet either. This was the way things should be, I found myself thinking. Read a book, fall asleep by nine, wake with the dawn. Eat fresh salmon every night.
Often my work trips involve a lot of talking and computer sitting. This was no different, but one day we were rewarded with the holy grail–an actual hike. This trail was supposed to be over-crowded, but on a Thursday morning, we only saw a few groups as we climbed high above the ocean. We could see the far-off coast, forbidding mountains and the Big Sur Wild and Scenic River below. In my dreams we would have hiked all the way to the hot springs–ten miles one way–but cooler heads prevailed and we turned around at the three mile mark.
Big Sur is experiencing much of the same problems as other highly scenic areas–too much demand, not enough supply. There's no good answer to this. You want people to get outdoors, but what do you do when all of them show up? As a relatively recent transplant (12 years) to my current home, is it fair to draw up the ramps and say no more people? On the same token, though, it's hard to feel driven out of favorite spots by crowds, masses of poop and other bad behavior. Like I said, no easy answers.
We didn't have time to do much sightseeing, as this wasn't a vacation. On our last day, on the way to the airport, we pulled over at a beach. This beach was a finely ground gravel, not soft sand, and the currents in the water looked treacherous. However, there was a person on a surfboard and an ocean swimmer in a wetsuit. A pregnant woman in a long flowing dress was having a pre-baby photoshoot. We sat in the rocky sand and stared out over the unforgiving ocean. It seemed endless, eternal. Big enough for love, big enough for swallowing loss, at least for a moment.
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