West Enders
By Sjimon Eden Gompers
The Monterey Bay Peninsula’s magnetic pull toward the rocky beaches of Asilomar or the French Vanilla ice cream scoops of Sand City’s sand dunes propelled me to search beyond the familiar Spanish colonial corridors for the lesser discovered gems of this magical coast.
While on my quest, I reflected on the myriad discoveries of the first wave of Chinese- American fisherman casting their nets alongside Cannery Row, perhaps stumbling on Ohlone artifacts of stone and adobe clay now layered in the chronological lithography of historical sedimentary layers. This historical compass is the famous Monterey Formation, a locally named scientific brand that can be seen as rock outcroppings up and down the length of the California coastline. “They’re like ‘geological sandwiches,” remarked local Geological Professor Alfred Hochstaedter from Monterey Peninsula College, likening histories of area and earth to a Dagwood or Reuben on marble rye. While dreaming about sandwiches, I headed to Pacific Grove’s counter-culture-cuisine-classic, Tillie Gort’s on 111 Central Ave in need of an Eggplant Francese (grilled eggplant with roasted red peppers, mozzarella on a Francese roll with a red wine honey aioli on the side). The opaque royal purple hues of the grilled eggplant reminded me of the rich hues of the rocks strewn along Garrapata Beach, eighteen miles north of Big Sur.
Further down Highway 1, past Pacific Grove and Pebble Beach lies this unique treasure. In the southern outskirts of Carmel are formations of lichen inhabited rock that make up the enchanted entrance to, arguably, California’s most breathtaking coastline. Hidden amid overgrown brush from the highway, these wild stones spell out a forgotten invitation of supernatural splendors. This is Garrapata State Beach, a destination for artists, friends, and lovers to gaze or sketch out the unique arches engraved into the coastal cliff side. A silver haired beach enthusiast with aviator shades remarked how the engravings resembled ancient holdings for the outcropped rocks that adorn Garrapata with beauty and character. Smooth lines in the stone pronounce their Miocene age molding, attributed to the tide’s mighty abilities of erosion from many sandy epochs. Fault shapes of jagged lines crossing and cutting tell a variety of narratives about the inhabitants, visitors, species, and various degrees of sea levels over time.
When I was younger, some of my first drawings were of wooden nutcracker soldiers that I had seen in store front windows in Carmel-by-the-Sea during the holiday season. Taken again by inspiration, I felt compelled to sketch this beach from different angles. Certain renderings brought out the gradual ascension of the coast above sea level, others focused on those unusual rock arches and cliffs, or the interaction between the silent waves of fog and the many shades of blue I could make with only a handful of coloring pencils.
Despite this beauty, I would never advise anyone to camp on Garrapata State Beach. Further down the coast toward Big Sur one can find the Fernwood campgrounds, Bottchers Gap, Pfeifer State Park, Kirk Creek, and many other sites to suit all camping needs. While I once found success in camping with a few adventurous friends on Carmel Beach after hours (success, yes,but I got lucky and would not try it again nor recommend any one else attempting the same- rangers comb this beach like crazy, we got away with it by act of providence), camping on Garrapata is an extreme danger due to the high tides, rip tides, and swiftly shifting currents that can swallow a sleeping camper alive.
Garrapata State Beach is a welcoming escape from the often densely populated Carmel Beach. By driving just a few more miles south on Highway 1, you can find a great introduction to the beaches, mixed rock formations, woods, trails, springs, and astonishing view points of the coastline. The intrigue is a mysterious marvel, where finding the beach access point from the highway can often be tricky. A few years back I searched in vain for the old trail from the supposed beach entrance. Met with towering, overgrown reeds, I opted to show my girlfriend Kati the natural splendors of Big Sur’s Andrew Molera State Park nature trail, after dark, searching for a campsite by flashlight. But that’s another story, best suited for another entry about these fog draped coastal majesties.
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Sjimon Eden Gompers is an English/writing graduate from San Francisco State University who enjoys travelogues and the friendly fog of the Bay Area.
Photograph used in conjunction with Flickr’s Creative Commons Agreement. It can be found, in its original form, at http://www.flickr.com/photos/lightmatter/3280396955/in/photostream/.
This entry was posted on Wednesday, August 26th, 2009 at 2:00 am and is filed under Non-Fiction. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. Both comments and pings are currently closed.
