From Chicago to Mountain View, California, save for a brief stop in Bellingham, Washington, I’ve been on my own. That’s 3,000 + miles of solo driving, hiking (except for fortuitous trail crashing and ranger hikes), meals, camp set-up and take down, nights sleeping in the Jeep, and views of the forests, mountains, lakes, trees, coast, and occasional bears. There has been something magical about that. I’ve done many things solo in my life, but few have been quite as exhilarating as these moments in the wild that feel like they are solely mine. And fewer still have taught me as much about myself as confronting the fears borne from traveling on the road or down the trail by myself daily.
But traveling with someone, even for a short stint, conjures its own magic. Life gets hashed out. The problems of the universe are contemplated and often solved, more pictures get taken, and most importantly, you have someone to gush over the scenery with. Big Sur marked the beginning of my shared adventure. For the next 3 weeks—approximately 4 days in Big Sur and 2 weeks in Baja California, Mexico—I’d be traveling with someone. Two different someone’s, my nearly lifelong friend, Aimee, through Big Sur, and one of my newest friends, Ana, through Baja. And it’s a good thing too, because the scenery in Big Sur and Baja can’t be beat. It deserved to be looked at through two sets of awe-inspired eyes.
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Aimee and I met up in San Jose, California, where I picked her up from the airport after several life-threatening rounds through the arrivals pick-up lane. I say life-threatening because this was basically trip one without the driver’s-side mirror, and the over-exuberant airport traffic director would not let me wait in the virtually empty pick-up lane. This was so despite my attempts to explain that, sans mirror, it really would be safer to wait. The result: I had to make several circles around the arrivals gate that necessitated merging into and out of four lanes of traffic repeatedly, placing my life and likely the lives of others at risk. Luckily, it turned out alright, and once Aimee was safely in Princess (which even then the traffic guy was shooing us on while she was loading her bags, I mean, really?), we could safely implement the broken mirror system I mentioned earlier. Basically, she’d say “go now,” and I’d go right then.
While her pick-up felt a bit harrowing, her presence on this leg was much anticipated and not just for the previously mentioned magic. You see, pre-pandemic, Aimee and I had taken a yearly girl’s trip. One year hiking 14 miles a day in Zion, another touring San Francisco, on another a day trip to Shenandoah while she spent a weekend in D.C. Our trips were our attempt to be intentional about maintaining our friendship amidst adult life in different places with busy schedules. They were also one of the rare moments that I was good at drawing boundaries with work. Maintaining our big friendship, it turns out, was something sacred enough for even me to say “no,” to the brief, deposition, [insert other lawyerly task here]. So, her joining me on this leg of the trip felt like more than just this road trip, it felt like a return to some form of normalcy after the last 4 years. It felt a lot like coming home, even if we were in California, a long way from the Louisiana town we grew up in.
Big Sur, Day 1 – The Drive In
I wish I could say we woke up bright and early, eager to go and get on the road. But we didn’t, and it was mostly my fault. While we both woke up bright and early when a fire alarm went off (falsely, no fires) where we were staying and had to be dealt with, I followed that excitement up by getting lost in a book instead of packing the car, meaning we were on the road by 10 instead of 9. This felt like a problem for our planned itinerary. Traffic in California is all that they say it is (awful), and I was driving extra slowly since I wasn’t passing anyone. This meant we got to Santa Cruz later than expected, which meant we got to Monterrey later, which meant Carmel-by-the-Sea was much later. It was late afternoon by the time we finally hit Big Sur. Instead of stopping to hike as we went into Big Sur, e.g., the loose plan, we had to settle for all overlooks and only overlooks from the entrance into Big Sur until we got to Treebones Resort, which housed the yurt we would be glamping for the next two days.
Don’t feel bad for us though, those overlooks held views like these. (The picture of the deer is from 17 mile drive in Monterrey/Pebble Beach. I wouldn’t want to mislead you.)
And, as is probably evident, that later afternoon light was gorgeous when it hit the cliffs. In fact, of the two days we stayed in Big Sur, that afternoon was the most beautiful by far. No clouds on the coast, no mist in the air, just the stunning foliage of Big Sur’s reds, greens, and oranges diving from the golden and green cliffs onto the beaches and into the Pacific below. There was hardly a turn that didn’t inspire a gasp. There were so many moments out of the car snapping and posing and taking in the beauty of it all. More beautiful still because I was there with my oldest friend in the world. It turns out, the late start wasn’t a problem. It was perfect.
Glamping in Big Sur
Almost as if we’d planned it that way, which obviously we hadn’t, we made it to Treebones right as the sun was setting, which afforded us some gorgeous golden coast views.
After that, we thought we’d unload and make dinner. In fact, we’d stopped at the store in Carmel-by-the-Sea like every good guidebook tells you to do to get provisions. We’d planned to cook dinner on my camp stove, but about 5 minutes after entering Treebones we learned that that was not to be. We might be glamping (emphasis here on the “amping” of “camping”), but there was a $350 fee for fires (even safe ones). So, it looked like we’d be sticking to sandwiches, charcutiere, and wine. (Yes, charcutiere. We were GLAMping (emphasis on the “glam” of, well, glam? glamorous?), of course we’d bought fancy cheese and meats instead of just my standard boiled eggs and chickpeas for protein). This would also necessitate at least one meal from the even fancier restaurant at the resort (I know, devastating).
Our stay at Treebones was my first time glamping. Much like my ill-fated drive through the redwood tree, it was inspired Instagram. Pictures of friends glamping in beautiful white tents with luxurious beds against orange desert backdrops, raised tents in the African savannah, yurts in Hawaiian paradises. Luckily, the Instagram inspired stay at Treebones was not so ill-fated as the drive-thru-tree experience. I would even say it was quite close to those Instagram images. We stayed in yurt #5, complete with a sink, a heater, a table, and an extremely comfortable bed. The bathroom was shared, but it was the most amazing shared bathroom I’ve ever seen, looking more like a spa bathroom than a bathhouse at a campground. It was so nice, in fact, I was almost tempted to take my shower shoes off, almost.
There was yoga in the morning and a complimentary breakfast that had dishes marked as vegan, organic, and “from our garden.” Not to mention a heated pool and hot tub, though we didn’t use either. And at night, it was completely dark, allowing for views of the most amazing night sky I have ever seen—chock-full of stars and nothing else.
While I loved our stay in the yurt, and it was extremely lovely, I think for the most part glamping is not for me. I missed the Jeep. After the last month, I’d grown accustomed to the rhythm of setting of camp, the feel of the small metal walls around me, the smell of campfire smoke drifting in through the windows as I read myself to sleep each night. While my brief stops at AirBnb’s and houses in cities had felt necessary due to a lack of good places to camp (and in Bellingham, even just acceptable places to park), or a need to wash clothes or preprep food essentials, staying in a fancy yurt in the woods felt a little off to me. It probably felt a lot like sleeping in a Jeep might feel to a backcountry enthusiast, or like a nice hotel might feel to a hostel-goer, which, is also how I like to travel, so it shouldn’t have been too much of a surprise.
Nonetheless, I imagine it’s perfect for lots of other folks, and even if I missed Princess, it was much better for two people to be glamping rather than spending several days sleeping in the Jeep. The perfect girls’ trip setting at least. So much better, in fact, that you’d think we’d planned it that way. But like so much on this leg of the trip, not so much. It was just happenstance that I booked the yurt when someone would be joining me. I’d booked it while I was still working (but after I’d turned in my notice), as a reward to myself for doing the hard thing of leaving. Aimee’s decision to join this part of the trip came much later, and she wasn’t sure where I was staying when she agreed.
The Universe though works in all kinds of mysterious ways, and that’s mostly what I was thinking about as I took one last look at the stars before heading into the yurt to get some sleep. Sleep which only occurred after several hours of hashing out life’s problems and solutions with Aimee. We might not have stayed up nearly as late as we would have when we were 12, but I was definitely appreciative for the coffee the next morning. These days, any time after 10 p.m. might as well feel like 3 a.m.
Big Sur, Day 2 – Beach Hikes
Day 2 in Big Sur started with coffee, then yoga, then coffee, then breakfast, then working our way backwards from Treebones up HWY 1 towards the northern entrance to Big Sur. Basically, covering the ground we’d covered the day before, but this time parking and venturing down into the rocky cliffs and beaches instead of sticking to the road. You know, the plan.
First stop was McWay Falls, an extremely short hike to a viewpoint in Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park where you can see falls coming down from the cliff to the beach. Even better, if you’re lucky, you can see artful displays of driftwood solicitations encouraging you to send nude pics. To where? Who knows? But somewhere, somewhere the driftwood guy or gal is waiting for those pics.
Having decided not to send any pics, we moved on to my favorite hike of the day, Partington Cove. I don’t know if I liked the hike because it was beautiful, because it was fun, or because it had the best trailhead description I’d seen yet on this trip.
Specifically: “Trailhead starts past the sharp bend in the road, across from the green cow gate.” For the record, Hwy 1, especially around Big Sur, is nothing but one sharp bend in the road. So there we were, moving slowly enough to induce people to pass us on this insane road, looking intently for the green cow gate. It sounded a little like this “You think it’s this curve?” “No, this curve is a lot like the last one, it has to be a different type of curve, right?” “Right, oh, maybe this one, it’s pretty long.” “Oh! There’s a gate. Wait, no, it’s not green.”
We did find the trail entrance eventually (though I’m still not sure how), and we started down the road to the rocky beach that this is the first stop on the trail. While the beach is the first stop, it’s not the best. Partington Cove is actually 3 trails in one, and after the beach you can turn right as you head back to the car, head through a tunnel, and find yourself walking along rocky cliffs jutting out into the water. This was my favorite part of the hike. Not only is the water here a gorgeous shade of blue that is clear enough for you to see deep down to the bottom at places, but the cliffs circle on seemingly forever. For someone who wants to climb over, under, up and around rocks, it’s a little bit of technical hiking heaven.
There I was, in heaven, climbing around while occasionally watching seals in the water. Aimee did her fair share of climbing and hiking too, we took lots of pictures. And then, because we were lucky, we were treated to a feat of daring stupidity timed just perfectly enough to avoid disaster. A young guy had lost a football in the water, presumably because he’d been playing with it with a seal. After several minutes of trying to fish it out with a stick and a fishing line, he jumped into the water to get the football himself. He was lucky, his jump had been timed perfectly and he retrieved the football and swam back to the rocks just as the next set of waves rolled in, crashing into the rocks. I was glad to see him succeed, but man-oh-man, was it close. After the cliffs, we headed to Partington’s last hike, a short ascent along a creek bed into a grove of small redwood trees, before heading back to a car and then onto the beaches.
There are two beaches that just about every guidebook tells you to see in Big Sur, and Aimee, who’d made this trip before, agreed with them so we headed to Pfeiffer Beach and then to Andrew Molera State Park. Like so many California beaches, these were also gorgeous. Cliffs and windswept rocks, golden sand. They looked like the perfect way to spend an afternoon, except it was freezing. Yes, as much as I love the look of California beaches, the feel of them is a little tricky because a combination of the cold Pacific and the strong winds always makes them just a little too cold for me. That doesn’t mean it’s that way for everyone—there were people in the water, people laying out on the beach, and Aimee is a much bigger fan—but for me, California beaches are mostly enjoyed from afar or from the sand, in my puffy jacket, and maybe with a hat on (yes, I kid you not, at both beaches).
After the beach it was back to Treebones for dinner, a small bottle of champagne, and a toast to two successful days in Big Sur and the return of our annual girls’ trip, all of which occurred with jackets on for both of us.
Day 3 – HWY 1, South to Pismo
Just because we toasted the success of the first two days, didn’t mean the trip was over. We woke up early the next day (miracle) and got ready to head South. The plan, which we did execute, was Seal Beach (views of hundreds of elephant seals), Moonstone Beach (beach with pretty pebbles buried under the sand), Morro Rock (giant giant giant rock jutting out of the sea), and then down to Pismo Beach where we’d camp for the night.
Before we got on the road though, over coffee, Aimee did something I’d watched her do with a bit of awe all trip. She made friends with a couple who live in Paso Robles and happen to have a guest house that they offered up for future trips. I say that I watched this in awe, because while I do talk to people while I travel, Aimee does it with such ease and grace—at coffee shops, at stores, in line anywhere—whereas I have to force conversation and questions out of me. I’m naturally shy and that easy friendliness comes even slower to me after living in D.C. for so many years. It’s not that D.C. is unfriendly, it’s just that it’s not as typical to say good morning to a stranger in the street, in a bar, in line anywhere. I did that a lot when I first moved to the city, because it is typical to do that in New Orleans where I’d moved from. I was often met with raised eyebrows or frowns. I adapted, sticking to much more transactional conversations over the years. But to watch Aimee’s conversations throughout the trip was refreshing and a nice reminder of the beautiful connections you can make just by being curious and kind. Besides, there are few things I love more than when ideas for new trips surface on the one you’re on, even better when they involve places to stay with locals. The result of being open and curious is that those opportunities for new information, connections, and adventures pile up. It was nice to have such a vivid reminder. While this road trip and sabbatical are about rest, they are also about intentionally building the life I want, not just accepting the life I have. It was nice to have an unanticipated example of something I need to intentionally cultivate in myself pop-up along the way.
But back to the road, because we got on it soon after (and I know this is getting lengthy). Here are some of my favorites from the thousands of pictures we took.
A few things you should know about these places.
Seal Rock is amazing, and it stinks. Oh wow, does it smell. Seals are cool to watch, but don’t breathe too deeply when you’re around them.
Moonstone Beach is beautiful, and if you’re looking for an empty surf break, this is it. I had serious stoke envy watching four guys and only four guys catch waves out on this break.
Morro Rock is not just about the giant rock. It’s also about cairns (manmade stacks of rocks). So many cairns. There is a story about why this exists that involves a guy, recovery, and continued creating of these after they are knocked down by the waves each season. But mostly, it is just beautiful to see so many of these in one place. A giant thanks to Pachamama, to the ocean, to the rocks themselves.
Pismo Beach, the return to Jeep Life
We made a quick stop in San Luis Obispo for coffee, a stroll, and a stop in a boho store or two so that I could look for pants (none found), before heading to Pismo. By the time we made it to Pismo we had just enough time to set up camp and watch our last sunset over the golden coast.
Having camped for over a month at that point, I have (had) a routine for what I do when I get to a campground. There are the things I take out of Princess: the canopy, the ice chest if there are no bears, the camp chair, the cooking supplies. The things I leave in Princess: the clothes, the books (yes, I brought lots of books), the electronics (because everything gets charged at night), the food (because bugs), the mattress. The timing for making dinner: before sunset, if possible, because light. Most importantly, the places I put these things inside and outside of the Jeep so that I don’t lose them.
I haven’t gone into much detail about this, but there is a system for how everything is stored, and that system is what has kept me sane. You’d think it would be easy to find everything in a 4-door Jeep, but it’s not. It is also very easy to leave things behind, so my system is important. Unfortunately, it’s mostly just made for one person in the Jeep. When you are sleeping two, well, anything goes and mostly everything goes outside of the Jeep because you need the space. That’s what we did. We set up the tent and pulled everything out of the Jeep, placing only the toiletries and clothes for the next day in the front seat while the bins and bags of everything else went into the tent or onto the picnic table.
If you are wondering why we didn’t just sleep in the tent, it’s because I have a one-person tent and the Jeep is just more comfortable. There are far fewer moments of waking up at night and wondering what that noise was when the doors are locked, for me at least. There are also, somehow, far fewer mosquitos.
Everything out of the Jeep and sunset watched, I made my standard camp-stove shakshuka while Aimee played sous-chef. Despite some initial mishaps with eggs, it got rave reviews. Perhaps Aimee was just catering to my ego, but I’ll take it and note for you all that I am slowly becoming an excellent camp-stove cook as long as it’s shakshuka. After that, it was back into the Jeep to catch some zzz’s before wrapping up this part of the trip.
And, because you made it this far, here’s a ridiculous photo of me cooking with a headlamp. This is why we don’t cook in the dark, a headlamp does not make for a stylish accessory or a cute photo.
Endings
All good things must come to an end.
The next day we were up and moving towards the Santa Barbara airport 30-minutes after we’d planned (I hope you’ve realized there’s a theme here), but with more than enough time for Aimee’s flight and with some excellent coffee that Aimee’d picked up in Santa Cruz for the road. After I dropped her off, I headed toward Santa Monica to get the mirror fixed. That, as you know, did not go as planned. I was soon diverting to Cathedral City to get Princess fixed, HWY 1, the California Coast, and a solid girls’ trip in my rearview mirror. Though not in the driver’s side mirror, because, well, I didn’t really have one yet.