Pt. Lobos State Park

Pt. Lobos has always had fond associations in my family because of our repeated vacations in 1950's and 1960's Carmel. Before these idyls, we'd lived there. My father ended his service at Fort Ord(now 'military community' after decommissioning), and for a year was allowed to live off-base in that lovely spot. While no longer Tortilla Flat, !940's-1960 Carmel was a noted artist town, and not at all fancy. Today, despite decades of tarting-up by the richards and there remorseless armies of specialty contractors, it's still rather nice. Of course, the lonely Tor House overlooking the point is surrounded by 10M jewelbox 7th. homes; but so few of these investments are ever actually occupied, so the place is still quiet. In the misty morning--and the misty forenoon, etc.--it still feels like 1950, especially if you are facing west.

My mother loved China Cove, and took us there for picnics. a resonant memory for me is the first glimpse of its crystalline blue green water from the top. Graceful kelp fronds would be distinctly visible, not so much waving as undulating with the surge... A long walk down the thousand bleached wooden stairs led to a an unmarked whitest sand beach. At low tide, we did our best to terrify her by wading into the caves on the south side.

Alas, my visit last week with my daughter missed China Cove: "closed for renovations"--or perhaps they said "restoration"; I may have been spooked a bit after visiting Carmel-by-the-Sea. Happily, the rest of the park is astonishingly dense with wonders of all sorts. In fact, if you stay nearby, the best way to visit is to ride a bike. Around from Whaler's Cove to China Cove at the south end is just 2 flat mies or so; the whole things just 20 minutes from C-town. Most of this tiny peninsula is Pine forest, But the deeply indented shore--with overhanging 100' sandstone bluffs and liberally strewn with basaltic boulders and a myriad of small islands--takes a long time to negotiate if your looking at things. In our short visit I photographed about 50 species: only by an exercise of massive restraint. Not photographed, but heard continuously were the sea-lions' haunting calls mixing into the blowing mists. Most of these were asleep on the rocks: if they were all awake and shouting, it would be a bit much.

Posted on May 23, 2012 02:59 PM by icosahedron