Into the wild

Incense, tye-dye, tattoos, dreads. We don’t fit in but we like it. Big Sur – a remote coastal area along California’s central coast -- is living up to its reputation.

We are here for the wilderness part of all of this. If you think California is crowded, visit Big Sur. Sure, traffic along Highway 1 is steady, but the beaches are open and free of the masses. There is room to roam.

Any trip to the ocean for us means a mad rush to stick our toes in the sand. We find Fernwood Resort first, our bed for the night – making sure of location before the sun goes down. Fernwood is less a “resort” than a camping spot. There’s a motel, a grocery, a restaurant. There’s a streamside campground, where we have a tent cabin and tent site reserved. The tent cabins are a comfortable compromise for me – a platform bed with a mattress, wood floor and a door. Perfect quarters for wild Big Sur yet not too wild. Clean, quiet, and with showers.

Then, to the beach.

Hermit crabs are uncovered and a happy dog learns about a moving surf and salt water. 

We wander and time meanders forward. Waves grow larger and the surfers come out. 

The sun lowers in the sky and we reluctantly trudge to our campsite as an inky darkness falls.

Morning. A stunning 80-foot waterfall at Julia Pfeiffer State Park cascades from a cliff onto the beach.

A ridge hike. We meet backpackers returning from days on the trail. Redwoods, ferns, a search for banana slugs.

Then we can’t help ourselves.

Back to the beach to squeeze out the last hours of the day.