Vacations Blog

Big Sur Highway 1

Part I of On the Road in Big Sur can be read here.

We greeted Saturday morning at the crack of 9:30, washed up and made the short walk up to the Lucia Lodge restaurant, closed to all at this hour except lodge guests. We toasted some bagels, grabbed coffee and fruit salad and a couple of hard boiled eggs and went out on the deck that overlooks the lodge grounds and the ocean. Mornings are always chilly in Big Sur, but with sweatshirts we were quite comfortable in shorts. The sun was already breaking through as we perused one of the free Big Sur Guide newspapers and contemplated how to spend the day.

Big Sur offers everything from hiking the 167,323 acres of the Ventana Wilderness to camping, hunting and fishing or just relaxing on one of many beaches. We decided on Pfeiffer Beach for its “breathtaking stretch of sand” and “large arch-shaped rock formations” and picked up a couple of sandwiches at the Big Sur Center Deli some 20 miles north on Hwy 1 (did I mention the Lucia Lodge is pretty isolated?) next to the Big Sur Post Office and planned to picnic. We got one pastrami, and one fresh roasted turkey sandwich. Both came with a pickle spear and were reasonably priced ($4-$6) given their girth. We could have easily split one sandwich and been more than satisfied.

The guide paper informed us that locating Pfeiffer Beach can be tricky if you’ve never been. You have to find unmarked Sycamore Canyon Road. Here’s the tip: it’s the only paved, un-gated road west of Hwy 1 between the Big Sur Post Office and Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park. Be warned that this is a very narrow, winding road, rather bumpy and pot-holed in some stretches. Do not attempt to negotiate this road with a trailer unless you want to risk getting yourself stuck and angering a lot of other drivers.

Pfeiffer Beach is as promised; long stretches of beach, breathtaking arch shaped rock formations and towering cliffs. What the paper didn’t happen to mention was that it can also be like visiting a sandy wind tunnel. The wind coming off the ocean whips around those arch shaped rock formations and right down that sandy stretch of beach. We found shelter on a large rock about 200 yards down the beach and endured the discomfort of our craggy seat long enough to eat lunch. Many people were braving the cold and enjoying the ocean but we decided against it, content to walk in the surf watch the kite fliers and spot seals. There was also a refreshing lack of seagulls though I can offer no reasons why. Anxious to continue our exploration we let the wind carry us back to our car.

“Exile on Main Street” pounding from the speakers, bright sun and blue skies flecked with white clouds and a brand new Mustang convertible, top down, roaring up Hwy 1. It doesn’t get much better. Hwy 1, and Big Sur in particular, offers some fantastic photo ops and the amateur shutterbug I call my wife was anxious to try and capture some of its beauty. We spent a good few hours driving up and down Hwy 1, stopping every few hundred yards so she could snap more photos. Though I’m not personally that interested in photography I was more than happy to oblige and give the Mustang a chance to sprint. Numerous turnouts allow for plenty of scenic views and some fantastic shots, however you may wish to confirm weather reports prior to planning a drive because the fog will often obstruct the coastal beauty. Fortunately the sun was on our side and my wife happily snapped off dozens of shots, some even with me in them.

Andrew Molera State Park has what the guide paper described as “a sandy beach…sheltered from the wind by a large bluff…”.  We were still in a beach mood and shelter from the wind sounded great so we pulled off to check it out. At the ranger kiosk the young man informed me of the $8.00 entry fee. I had expected this but having just paid $5.00 for a 45 minute visit at Pfeiffer Beach I wasn’t very willing to part with more of my dwindling cash supply. I pointed out the ticket we received at Pfeiffer still taped to our windshield, hoping the fact that we’d already paid one beach entry fee might gain us access to another. Apparently Pfeiffer is federally owned by the U.S. Forest Service while Andrew Molera is a state owned park. As such, each is entitled to charge an entry fee. Annoyed by this display of governmental gouging, we decided to begin the long trek back to Lucia and make dinner plans.

Nepenthe Patio

That morning a fellow continental breakfast-er had told us about a restaurant called Nepenthe, which is about (yes), twenty miles north on Hwy 1. We were informed that while the food was just “OK”, a better spot to sight whales and watch the sunset could not be found. We simply “must go”.  In fact, all of her friends in LA had told her that she simply “must go”. To ignore such resolute counsel would have been misguided, boarding on reckless, so go we did.

In the future I must remember to lead a more reckless, misguided life. OK I’m kidding. Our fellow lodger was correct in that the food was OK. I had the Ambrosiaburger (my eyes were instinctively drawn to it having been denied one the night before at Whale Watcher Café and the fact that at $13.00 it was the cheapest thing on the menu) complete with their famous “Ambrosia Sauce”, (mayo, green chili salsa and tomato sauce). My wife, already having decided to lead a more reckless life, opted for grilled scallops wrapped in prosciutto ($32.00) followed by the Four Layer Chocolate Fudge Cake ($7.50). While everything was delicious, as you’ve probably already gathered, what you’re really paying for is the view and by the time the bill arrived we were treated to a bright red sun melting into a thick blanket of clouds which slowly turned a dazzling hot pink, all the while spreading like whipped marshmallow across the darkening Pacific. Don’t forget your camera.

Back at Lucia Lodge we occupied one of the benches at the edge of the cliff near our cabin. Darkness had fallen and we were forced to rely on our other senses, enjoying the  cool winds coming off of the ocean and the sound of waves crashing at the base of the cliff below us. Later that evening, back in our cabin we enjoyed some wine and those good books and slept well. Sunday arrived far too quickly but the 11:00 AM check out time allowed us to linger over our coffee on the lodge deck. We watched the fog roll silently over the grounds, obscuring the foot path back to the cabin and our waiting Mustang, sitting patiently in anticipation of her final run up Hwy 1.

All Photos by Lisa Romano Except Nepenthe Courtesty of Nepenthe.

View of cabins from the Lodge restaurant.

We approached Big Sur under cover of fog illuminated by a full moon, the throaty rumble of our rented Mustang echoing in the stillness of a nearly deserted Highway 1.

I knew the ocean was to our right, but darkness and the concentration necessary to negotiate the corkscrew of scenic highway prevented me from seeing much more than an occasional lunar reflection on black water.

Our destination, Lucia Lodge, about twenty five miles south of the more populated areas of Big Sur, advertised its “unique cliff-side location” offering “unparalleled and commanding views” of the Big Sur coast and Santa Lucia mountains. Established in the 1930’s, the lodge is now operated by fifth generation descendants of the original owners, Wilbur and Ada Harlan. As we soon discovered, Lucia Lodge is basically all there is to Lucia with twenty-five miles of desolation north on Hwy 1, and about fifteen miles of the same to the south.  We were unaware of this geographical fact when, though famished, we decided to skip the Big Sur Roadhouse in favor of locating the lodge. Twenty-five miles after bypassing the last of civilization to the north, we arrived at 10 PM to a locked and darkened lodge and restaurant.

Cabins from the path.

In the lobby of the restaurant (discovered the next day after the complimentary breakfast of pastries, muffins, bagels, fruit salad, and bowls of hard-boiled eggs) hangs a framed 1984 San Francisco Examiner article which begins, and I quote:

“You’d swear you’ve seen the setting in some brooding film noir classic, maybe a 1940’s dark Howard Hawks thriller: a small coastal roadside gas station-restaurant-store with a few cabins off to the side overlooking a steep cliff.”

This description, sans the gas station which apparently was removed between 1984 and present day, could not be more accurate, and I experienced a very film noir feel as we doubled back about twenty yards to the steep, obscured little road that leads down to ten little cabins over-looking that steep cliff. These cabins make up all there is of Lucia Lodge’s accommodations.

Finding the key under the mat as promised we proceeded to drag our luggage into cabin #7, a cute little A-frame with a high, full-size bed at one end and gas fireplace at the other. In between were an armoire, a couch, a coffee table and a couple of wooden chairs; no phone, no TV, no radio. Oh and no cell phone reception; isolation at its finest. Make a note to bring good books and wine.

Our load considerably lightened we hopped back in the Mustang and roared south on Hwy 1 in search of sustenance, coming up on the Whale Watcher Café some fifteen miles down the road in the town of Gorda Springs. It appeared to be open and we made our way to the bar only to discover that the kitchen was closed. Thankfully the gentleman said the clam chowder was still available so we ordered two bowls and a couple of drinks.  My wife tried the Merlot but knowing I had a fifteen-mile slalom of a drive back, I opted for Sprite, which I find really brings out the flavor in clam chowder.

So the chowder was great, really hit the spot, very generous amount of clams and a good consistency (I hate watery chowder) but when I discovered that we were charged $10.50 per bowl it suddenly wasn’t sitting very well. Had the kitchen been open we could have ordered burgers at about $16.00 a pop (pricey yes but at least it feels like a meal). Personally, I would be embarrassed to charge $10.50 for a bowl of soup no matter how good it is or how famished my customers. But that’s just me. Needless to say we declined the gentleman’s offer to return for breakfast the following morning.

Next installment: A drive up and down and up and down scenic Hwy 1; windy beaches and more meals. Stay tuned!

All photos by Lisa Romano