It's really no wonder at all that artists and writers have flocked to Big Sur over the last century. Mountains sweeping right into the sea blanketed in fog, beaches that seem to never end. Despite being nestled between Los Angeles and San Francisco, it still retains it's remote feeling with very few gas stations and limited (if any) cell service. Its wild nature has commanded such restrictions on human interference. From my first visit in 2013, I knew that all of the mystique I had built up in my mind from the stories I'd read would turn into a lifelong love affair with the place. When you travel frequently, the world begins to feel smaller in a good way. You find places to go when you need to clear your mind, places to spend a winter or the depths of summer, cities to explore the human condition. Big Sur, for me and many others, is the place to find clarity and quiet in this roaring world.
In the fall of 2017, Alli and I planned a trip out to Big Sur for our one year wedding anniversary. We booked a stay in a cottage off Highway 1 nestled deep into a Redwood grove. Beyond the amazing location, it also had an outdoor shower and full bathtub on the deck overlooking the Redwoods, which was the perfect way to unwind and watch the stars at night.
We stopped at the Henry Miller Memorial Library, bought too many books, and found a cat climbing through a persimmon tree. Cool autumn air mixed with the wind and fog offshore, and as the morning progressed, the sky eventually cleared up.
Big Sur is not just another place on the map in California. It's the end of a continent, the edges of that idea of western expansion. The realization of a terminus. Immortalized by some of the greatest artists, writers, poets, and musicians, it is without any doubt, a place that lives up to its legends.