While reading Albert Camus’ portrait of Oran, I became spellbound by his capacity to capture the town’s essence. I am thus inspired to offer my impressions of Big Sur…
Gazing at the wild coastline, I see a world that still breathes in testimony to the timeless. The colossal mountains dashing down to the pristine sands and seas truly leave humanity out of the picture. What does this avid Wilderness need man for anyway, with its paradisiacal peaks and verdant forests raging to the sea?
People plant their cabins, plow their roads and then die here amidst the indifference of an eternal, feral Entity. There is no coziness to this gigantic splendor, no intimacy in the remoteness. Only wolf-hearts can survive here, impassioned by the land – independent and ruled by the moon. And in this toughening of spirit, characteristics are forged that give man the measure of his identity. Big Sur inspires a Pagan celebration of its raw power and beauty, but an almost inhuman element is needed to survive here amidst the ruthlessness of Nature and its climes.
A relief comes from accepting the autonomy of Nature’s laws, in allowing their guidance. That man can live and die here and not affect this powerful land is important to acknowledge; because from there, one can find one’s place in the greater order of things, rather than run one’s life in egoistic ignorance, or in pseudo attempts at control. Experiencing the raw power of this land enables one to understand that we are each forces of Nature, conduits of the indestructible Entity, dwelling here in a transitory reality. But it is obvious that the wilderness spirit reigns with supreme majesty and can mercilessly erode whatever appears solid, taking our cabins of plans and plunging them to the sea – leaving us to contemplate the desert of our souls.
Indifferent to the purposeful little residents living in the small tourist town nestled at the foot of lucid and screaming summits, the timeless grandeur of this dramatic coast caters only to its own cycles and seasons. Like the wild beasts that roam and slumber in the dense forests, this wilderness accounts to no one, but its own primal and timeless pulse, it’s own indomitable tyranny.
Here, one may regain the innocence and connection to the earth that once gleamed in the eyes of the ancients. When the tempests blow for days, these elements teach one who is really in charge. A humbleness is earned and from there, a more graceful composure. Those second-home owners who only visit on weekends may never discover the deeper laws that rule this rare and mysterious land (and probably would prefer not to).
Sightseers observe the spectacular beauty of the wilderness with an almost vulgar admiration, seemingly unaware of the violence that underlies and ignites that beauty.
Reservoirs of silence thrive here like the mountain lions, coyotes and other species of wildlife that roam usually unseen. The vast solitude that is available is life-nourishing and sublime.
Cabin fever is also a possibility, as the distractions are limited to a few hotels, restaurants, bars, small galleries, markets, a community library, the Henry Miller Library and the Loma Vista Spirit Garden. Escapes to the nearby town of Monterey can be essential to preserving one’s sanity, especially when the weather is inclement. Monterey, although a clean town is quite sterile and provincial, populated mostly by military personnel and retirees. But nearby, the cities of San Francisco and Los Angeles provide, in addition to all the amenities, disorienting culture shocks that force one back into humanity’s body.
Big Sur’s lyrical shores resonate with the energy fields of Greece and call to mind the sea and earth-scapes described in the legends of Atlantis and Avalon. Like a rare and exotic butterfly existing on an otherwise chaotic planet, an accelerated power of transformation works its way through the people. Big Sur offers a haven resonating with the origins of life, of the greater existence.
Endless panoramas stretch out over the cobalt seas. And the heavens mirror their lucid innocence upon the iridescent seas. On clear days one can observe dolphins and whales on their trek to Mexico – as well as fleets of pelicans and seagulls hunting and sunning in the coves below. Lone herons, condors, cormorants, swallows, falcons, vultures and owls are also regular inhabitants. And when one gazes at the mythical and primordial condors, with their strange bald heads and savage eyes, one is forced to sense the fire, stone and seas of creation and destruction.
Where can one find intimacy in such a remote wilderness? For some, in the company of close friends, for others in the sequestered nook by the river, or the shady forest’s glen. And then of course there is always the unseen, yet ever-present dialogue within.
The unabashed climes of Big Sur have forged and blossomed a community of artists and artisans inspired by the fecund land, dramatic sky and seascapes. These artists seem to sprout like wildflowers all over the mountainous meadows.
And perhaps because of the nothingness so available, the artist can pour himself into this vastness, even if he remains unanswered by the stars above, the lidless mountain peaks and the permanent seas. Yes, because of the remoteness, he can integrate his tangled skein of human threads, re-alchemize his experiences of this land’s raw power, the seas’ martyrdom and survive in a curious way, amidst this small but closely-knit community of about 1400 people.
Within this oblivion, the yoke of the finites gives balance to the infinite and allows one to gaze into the very eyes of existence, into the conflux of eternities.
But then there is the isolation grip, which can force one to experience opposite energies, people and a contrasting environment. One can feel as if one is vanishing because of the lack of worldly stimulation that can counteract the grandiosity of the Big Sur wilderness.
Yet, despite the cosmic perspective that Big Sur offers, it only takes the arousal of one’s survival instincts to be reminded of one’s basic humanity. Especially when, after weeks of tyranny, the torpid fog buries the views, leaving one feeling isolated and invisible. And what was once a haven suddenly becomes a prison, from which to escape. During the winters, Highway One has often been closed due to massive rockslides. One winter, helicopters had to fly in meals to feed the trapped residents.
This is a land that invites a love-hate relationship because of its climactic and geographic extremes. Temperatures can vary as much as fifty degrees in just a few hours, and howling winds quickly teach detachment.
Big Sur appears to kick some people out, no matter how hard they attempt to find homes, while others fit right in and find housing, which has become very expensive and scarce in recent years due to the prevalence of yuppies buying second homes. Previously there were more bohemians and eccentrics living in funky gypsy styles.
Unpolluted and untrammeled, Big Sur is a wilderness reserve and one of the rare paradises left on earth. It is also a kind of island or Noah’s Arc that attracts a diversity of endangered species, including people, offering a refuge for many a fugitive to live out their odysseys with their backs to a corrupt and imposing world.
July 6, 2007
