Living It Up On California’s Big Sur Coast
I wasn’t sure what to expect. The ranger on the phone told me she hadn’t been up that way in several years, but that high-clearance, all-wheel-drive is recommended. When I told her all I had was my front-wheel drive VW van, she said: “Well, you’ll probably make it. I’ve heard of people doing it in little Honda Civics, so I’m sure you’ll be fine. And if not, there’s always the tow truck.”
Reassuring, especially given that I knew cell service would be non-existent. So south I drove, passing the discrete turn-off for the Post Ranch Inn, then Nepenthe, and soon enough the Henry Miller Library on the opposite side of the road. I’d have time to stop and dawdle on my way back, but I was in a hurry to get off-the-grid tonight. With another 30 miles and several majestic sweeping Big Sur curves behind me, I found the little sign marking Plaskett Ridge Road and turned my wheels east onto the sandy dirt of my path to glory. Van-willing, I’d be camping on a ridge at 2600’ elevation overlooking this very coastline at the South End of Central California’s storied Big Sur that I was leaving behind.
Heaven On High
Three miles of climbing and half an hour later, I pulled into my campsite for the night and quickly shut off the van, which had started to complain on the last few switchbacks. Luckily, I made it up in time before things got really hot inside the van’s engine compartment, and was I ever glad I did. Spread out before me was perhaps the best view in the world, with the rolling grassy California hills giving way to the sparkling, azure blue Pacific Ocean and an endless horizon punctuated by a few wispy low-lying clouds.
I’m pretty sure I can never go to a traditional campground again after this experience. Besides the otherworldly vistas in every direction and lack of mechanized sound whatsoever, there wasn’t another human soul around—for miles. I could walk around naked if I wanted. I could sing at the top of my lungs. I could yell “Geronimo” as I dashed between hill and dale. Nothing was holding me back.
As I set up my tent on a grassy hillside overlooking an oak and manzanita grove, I gazed down the valley carved by Plaskett Creek to the mighty blue Pacific, almost at my doorstep just 2,600 vertical feet down. Behind me, the punctuated peaks of the Santa Lucia Range rolled off in the distance, a green and terrestrial extension of the ocean waves that helped define the coastal ecosystem of this wild slice of the extreme American west.
This life-list campsite had everything I could want in a place to spend the night. A spectacular spot/view. The sounds of the wind, the birds, the surf. Privacy from other campers, e.g. the place to myself. A dark night sky, away from city or suburban lights. And sad as I am to admit it, car access: why not live large with the right food and supplies if you can?
The only catch, of course, was getting there. While a three-mile detour off Route 1 might not sound so bad, you try it in a front-wheel drive van zig-zagging your way up a rutted dirt road and gaining some 2,600 feet in elevation in the process. The whole way up I wondered if that ranger I’d spoken with on the phone was right that I would probably make it. And if I made it up, would I make it back down in one piece?
Luckily both the rides up and down were uneventful, perhaps thanks to my white knuckle command of the steering wheel and care not to exceed five miles an hour on any of dozens of sandy curves around precipitous edges. On the ride up, I feared my engine would overheat from the strain of the dirt road and steep grade; on the way down, I feared my brakes would give way just when I was counting on them to save me from rolling the van over an embankment to a certain painful death. Needless to say, I lived to tell the tale, but next time I’m bringing a high clearance all-wheel-drive vehicle (and you should too).
Heaven on Earth
While Plaskett Ridge gave me all I could want in a campsite, I could depend on my next stop, the Post Ranch Inn, for everything else. What more could I ever want?
For starters, a comfortable bed with high-thread count sheets and more pillows than I could find uses for. My own private fireplace and all the dry firewood I could shake a stick at to keep me warm all night (as well as heat in my cabin). And as much as I hate to admit it, plumbing — and not just plumbing, but two infinity edge hot tubs and my own private jetted tile soaking tub with open windows out to the ocean. And let’s not forget the California cuisine, either in the on-site restaurant Sierra del Mar or in my cabin via room service.
The attention to detail is amazing. When my bellman chauffeured me to my cabin after a brief driving tour of the property in a spiffy new hybrid Lexus sedan, I noticed everything inside was made up perfectly, except for a throw blanket that seemed to be conspicuously out of order, draped haphazardly across the foot of the otherwise tightly made king bed. My first thought was that housekeeping had rushed getting my room ready—after all, I did show up an hour early for check-in. But after peaking in a few other cabins nearby I could tell that in fact the throw blanket was “thrown” that way on purpose, to give guests a sense of welcome informality amidst the otherwise rigidly perfect splendor of the setting. Welcome to California.
Given my limited caloric intake so far that day — I had a leftover muffin for breakfast and then a peanut butter and jelly sandwich for lunch while still up on Plaskett Ridge — I was curious what I could get for dinner at Post Ranch. I picked up the room phone to call the restaurant to see where I could find a menu, and the friendly voice on the other end said they would send one right over. Within five minutes, a discrete knock on the door signaled the arrival of my menu, on what appeared to be stationery for the “Pfeiffer” house where I was staying, one of a dozen ocean-side studio cabins well-appointed with wood-burning fireplaces, tiled jetted soaking tubs and king beds with 600-thread count sheets made especially for Post Ranch (and for sale in the Inn’s “Mercantile”).
To say that Post Ranch Inn is the yang to the yin of Plaskett Ridge Road isn’t exactly fair. After all, Post Ranch may have set the standard for just how green a luxury lodging facility can be. In 2009, the inn switched on a brand new 990-panel solar array — at the time the largest hotel solar project in California — to provide the property with most of its energy needs. Going solar has allowed the Inn to reduce its carbon emissions by 611,000 pounds annually, which is equivalent to removing upwards of 50 cars from the road or 39 households’ from the traditional electric grid over a year.
Beyond its embrace of alternative energy, Post Ranch was built using sustainable materials with an eye towards complementing (not overwhelming) the surroundings. To wit, my cabin was topped off with a living green roof which not only serves as great insulation against the cold mists off the Pacific but also filters contaminants from the air, sequesters carbon dioxide and helps provide oxygen for us all to breathe. Drought-tolerant, native-plant landscaping with plenty of pop from abundant flowering plants blends right in with the overall paradiscial feel of being there. Even the wildlife seems to agree — the deer won’t be bothered by you whatsoever and watch out for those hummingbirds. If you’re lucky, you might even see an endangered species — Smith’s Blue Butterfly, the California Red-Legged Frog, the Western Pond Turtle and the California Condor have all been spotted by guests recently — cross your path. If you’re more into “cushions-and-cream” than roughing it but still love accessing the wonders of nature, the Post Ranch Inn might just be the best place in the world to spend the night.
Post Ranch Inn is located along the Big Sur coast, between San Luis Obispo and Monterey – off of Highway 1, just 30 miles south of Carmel, Calif. Located 330 miles north of Los Angeles and 150 miles south of San Francisco, the nearest airport is in Monterey (about 1 hour driving).