Gypsy Atlas: Plugging into the Mainframe in Big Sur

A trip to Big Sur recharges your life force. The natural world anywhere is capable of refreshing one’s spirit, but visiting Big Sur is like plugging into the main frame for a super charge. Henry Miller wrote, “At dawn, Big Sur’s majesty is almost painful to behold. That same prehistoric look, the look of always, Nature smiling at herself in the mirror of eternity…” in Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch. Big Sur is not a town, but a 90-mile length of California coast. Entering Big Sur on Highway One, nature’s raw beauty humbles and inspires, subtly shifting your consciousness and welcoming you to this special place.

Foggy Sea
Photo by Madeline Horn

Big Sur enchants; a magic land of blue waves, cliffs, condors, artists, waterfalls, and redwoods. Naturally, when my mom invited me to join her on a two-night trip to Big Sur last week I jumped at the chance. Music was the reason for the trip, as it often is for my mother. Esalen Institute was celebrating its 50^th anniversary with a daylong public celebration with hot springs, barbeque lunch, and a Joan Baez concert. Mom spent time with Joan Baez at her home and at love-ins as a youth intern for her Institute for the Study of Nonviolence in high school, so she was especially excited to see her play this show forty years later. The same evening, Steve Earle played a concert at the Henry Miller Library. Mom, with characteristic enthusiasm purchased tickets for both events.

View from the Side of the Road, Big Sur
Photo by Madeline Horn

Camping
We rented a tent cabin at Fernwood Resort, a privately owned campground on the river with a restaurant, bar, and store. Fernwood’s musician owner books bands on weekends and throws music festivals, including one coming up October 26-28, 2012 with The Devil Makes Three. In the past I have stayed at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park, which is more family-oriented with an awesome swimming hole and incredible hikes. Fernwood is rowdier, but a bit more convenient, since you can eat at their restaurant if you are too lazy or busy (like we were this time around) to cook your own food. It’s also easier to get a reservation at Fernwood.

Concert at Esalen Institute
Photo by Madeline Horn

Cocktails and Dining
Our first night in Big Sur we had a drink on Nepenthe’s patio, overlooking ocean, cliffs, and bald mountains. On the tails of a heat wave, the hot night air made it too uncomfortable to sit inside the restaurant - rare weather for this part of the earth. We giggled when the staff lit the fireplace on the patio because, even after dark, the fire felt oppressively warm. In the morning we breakfasted on stuffed raspberry French toast and eggs benedict at Deetjen’s Big Sur Inn amongst black and white photographs, fresh flowers, and custom-made chandeliers and lamps in the form of antlers, sprites and maidens. Our bellies filled, we were prepared for our Esalen adventure.

Succulent Display at Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Esalen
Esalen Institute is like no other place on the planet. The earth provides hot springs flowing from ocean cliffs, waterfalls, condors, sea otters, and redwoods. Esalen’s visionaries enhance the stunning natural setting with fruit, vegetable, flower, and succulent gardens, stone hot tubs, cabins, sculpture, rambling paths, woodwork, and shrines. Michael Murphy and Dick Price founded Esalen in 1962 as a personal spiritual retreat and a place where intellectuals could explore consciousness and healing practices. There are two sides to Esalen, first the Esalen Center for Theory and Research, a think tank that investigates the scientifically unexplainable, and second, the Esalen Institute, offering workshops in music and dance, massage, writing, relationships, psychology, yoga, sustainability, economics, healing, and more.

Esalen Hot Springs (on the left)
Photo by Madeline Horn

For their 50^th anniversary celebration they set up a stage on a lawn overlooking the sea and fed guests a bbq lunch. The hot springs were open to all. As soon as we arrived, we hightailed it to the baths and soaked perched in the middle of the cliff overlooking an open bay. We met a charming 90-year-old naked man in the tubs who looked a lot better than many of the naked sexagenarian men we encountered. When I turned away from the crowds and stared at the ocean, immersed in the hot mineral water, I felt impossibly lucky to be in such a transcendent place.

Succulents at Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Wandering the grounds later I found a home perched in the gully of a waterfall. The house’s windows were mere feet from the water flowing straight down towards the ocean. On the other side of the waterfall sat a round meditation hut with windows facing the sea. Warm mineral waters escaped the cliff here, and gathered in a large metal bowl sculpture that also caught floating leaves. The mineral water has a slight sulfur smell, but nothing can compete with the smell of the ocean that permeates the entire property. Magical touches like hand carved benches, sculptures, and artistic metal work enhance Esalen’s natural beauty.

Food Garden at Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Joan Baez sang like an angel onstage, sending the silver-haired crowd into a state of bliss. She thanked her 99 and a half year-old mother, who sat in the crowd. Baez has been connected to Esalen for more than 50 years. She lived on the property before Esalen was founded, when it was an old hotel and hot springs owned by founder Michael Murphy’s family. Once she finished her set my mom and I drove ten miles north in the setting sun, up Highway One to the Henry Miller Library to see Steve Earle play in the redwoods.

Even the locks are artistic at Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Henry Miller Library
Henry Miller wrote about Big Sur, where he lived for many years, “This is the face of the earth as the Creator intended it to look,” in Big Sur and the Oranges of Hieronymus Bosch. Performances at the Henry Miller Memorial Library take place outside in the redwood grove in front of the library itself. The Library is a non-profit cultural center dedicated to championing Henry Miller’s artistic legacy. The library hosts concerts, films and art shows. For the concert, spot lights colored the redwoods surrounding the stage, while candles and strings of white lights lit the grove. Steve Earle took the stage late, but he made up for it with an entertaining two-hour set. To bring our day full circle, he sang a song that he had written for Joan Baez, which she had performed earlier at Esalen. I wasn’t familiar with Earle before the show, but the concert made me a fan. He’s a gifted songwriter and speaks to the crowd like an old friend in his Texas twang.

Waterfall Meditation Hut, Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Breakfast and State Parks
On my third day in Big Sur I woke up alone. My mom had to leave our tent cabin at 4:45am to tow a submarine into Monterey Bay. I ventured to Nepenthe’s breakfast spot, Café Kevah, for the fantastic view. Breakfast was pricey for a restaurant without table service, but the meal was delicious, potatoes, eggs, and bacon all cooked perfectly. After eating I set off to find Pfeiffer Beach, which is on an unmarked road. The directions to the beach I had picked up at Deetjen’s Inn led me down a one lane 15mph road through the redwoods and past ramshackle forest homes to a completely unexpected freshly painted State Parks kiosk, where an employee demanded $5 cash or check to enter the beach. I cursed myself for spending my last cash on a glass of wine at the Steve Earle show the night before and tried to sweet talk my way in but the man would not budge! I had to turn around and drive out. I gave up on Pfeiffer Beach and headed to Andrew Molera State Park for a hike.

Meditation Hut, Esalen
Photo by Madeline Horn

Andrew Molera State Park is a former ranch reaching from the mountains to the sea. I hiked to the ocean on a two-mile loop through the old creamery meadow. The sun came out as I reached the beach, brightening the blue of the ocean by a few shades. I found a driftwood cross draped with kelp, taller than me, next to a substantial driftwood fort, destined to be washed away by the tide. Hiking back to the parking lot I gazed at the wheat colored Santa Lucia Mountains and dramatically bald grey stone Pico Blanco, towering over the landscape. I wished I had time to hike in the redwoods, but responsibilities at home beckoned, so I drove dutifully north on Highway One, my spirit refreshed after just two days in Big Sur. I had soaked in natural mineral baths overlooking the sea, spotted countless birds of prey flying overhead, and listened to great music. Nature put on a final show for me on the drive, as the bright sun highlighted the midnight blue, ultramarine, and topaz tones of the ocean, punctuated by white craggy rocks. I struggled to keep my eyes on the curving road as I pushed north on this enchanted coast.