A true story of magic.
One year, for my birthday I decided to go camping by myself. I drove down down down the beautiful highway 1, not knowing where I'd stay, just knowing I'd camp somewhere near the ocean. I happened to see this little sign pointing to Andrew Molera campground. As it was getting late in the afternoon, and I didn't know what else lay ahead, I elected to stop here. It was December, so, the parking lot was empty except for one other car. There was no ranger in the hut, just a pole with a slot in which to shove money for the camping. (Very cheap: $5 for the night.) So I paid, parked, then grabbed my gear for the short trek (1/4 mile) to the campgrounds. There's a pleasant, winding trail through the forest, alongside water, easily traversed with whatever camping equipment you want to bring. Suddenly the trail opens up into a wide open space, spotted with trees, with a dancing eucalyptus grove at the end. I clearly have the place to myself, though it's evident that in the summer it can get quite crowded.
I plop my stuff on the ground and amble around, searching for the perfect spot. Since this trip was very last minute, I don't even have a tent with me, so I'm looking for something sheltered. I settle on a cosy spot under a huge, protective oak tree, with a wide base and root structure that looks like it'll block some of the wind that's bound to come racing across this open space off the ocean during the night. So, I move in, set up camp, then go for a walk.
Perhaps some of the magic was already working, as I certainly felt entranced with my surroundings. And possibly, this trance was working on me as I walked along, absorbed in the trees, the ocean air. Suddenly, I became aware of an old man, very near me (how had I not noticed him before?), leaning on a picnic table and playing the sweetest violin music I have ever heard. He didn't look at me at all, instead, playing to the mountains as the sun cast late, orange rays across the trees there. When I got quite close, as the path I was on led me to do, we made eye contact, smiled, the achingly beautiful music continuing and my feet carrying me along. It was an intense moment, though no words were spoken. When I came back later that same way, he was gone.
Moments past our encounter, I found myself leaving the wide open space and becoming enveloped in the Eucalyptus grove. The air was still, at first, then vibrating with the beating of millions of beautiful orange and black wings. The Monarchs! Oh the Monarchs. Thousands upon thousands of them swirling among the leaves, lighting on my hair and shoulders, and so incredibly beautiful and abundant. I laughed out loud and leaped around with them.
Past the grove, the trail narrows, and I pick my way carefully toward the ocean. The trail opens up again to reveal the roaring surf, surrounded by low cliffs and foliage everywhere. Naturally, I throw off all my clothes and go skipping into the ocean. Just as naturally, I last for about 2 minutes in the frigid, December waters, then come bounding out and wrap up in a blanket I had brought. Elated and crazed with the cold and the strange wonderfullness of my time here so far, I go streaking, running up and down the beach to warm up.
Tired and calm finally, I bundle up and head back to my campsite. I build a little fire, warm some soup, roast some marshmallows, and look at the brilliant stars. I crawl into my sleeping bag and sleep a solid night. I wake up to find my sleeping bag surrounded by various animal prints, some of which are certainly those of a large cat. Oh. Fortunately, he was no where in sight, so I pack my things back to the car and then head out for one of the prettiest all-day hikes I've ever been on (from the trailhead in the parking lot).
Since that first trip 11 years ago, I've been back here many times, often on my now annual ritual to go camping by myself. It's so peaceful and magical here. I feel invigorated and enlivened when I spend time at Andrew Molera. It does look like it can get crowded in the summer time, so I recommend going in the off-season (especially in the winter to catch the Monarch migration). Go and love the stars and the ocean! It's all so so beautiful!! read more