Big Sur

  The Big Sur campgrounds were located in the Los Padres National Forest, slightly inland from the rugged seashore, and after rising, Albert found a narrow trail that wound its way down to a secluded beach cove. Albert found the sparsely populated Big Sur coast, where the Santa Lucia Mountains rise abruptly from the Pacific Ocean, simply a marvel to view and explore. Climbing up and perching himself upon a rocky precipice that overlooked the pounding surf below, Albert enjoyed a little breakfast from the small surplus of food that his panniers still held. Albert reflected on some of the Artists that had temporarily been attracted to the area over the years. There were authors that he’d read like Henry Miller, Hunter S. Thompson, and Jack Kerouac, and poets Lawrence Ferlinghetti and Robinson Jeffers that he’d tried to understand – he wasn’t there yet. Albert had also heard about actors, painters, and spiritualists, along with singers and songwriters, that had all been at one time captivated in some way, by this amazing stretch of coastline – its isolation and spiritual connectivity. Heading back up to camp, Albert packed up his overnight gear and after his ritual morning stretches, rubbed the belly of his black stone Buddha, made a mental note that upon returning home he’d have a re-read of Kerouac’s ‘On The Road’, settled into his well-warn, and perfectly molded Brooks saddle, and peddled out for the day.

   Leaving behind the tiny community of Big Sur, the Cabrillo Highway climbed up a large hill before finding it’s way back down to the coast and its magnificent views. Albert found cycling in this area to be physically demanding and had to stay alert to the many touring motorists buzzing up and down the coast. The road was narrow, winding, and at times steeply rolling as it made its way up to the small town of Lucia, which sat ocean side of the 5,155 foot, Cone Peak. Eventually, Albert pulled up for a stop at a gorgeous little spot called Plaskett Creek and took a refreshing dip in the cool ocean waters.

   From Plaskett Creek, refreshed from his swim, the ride past San Simeon and Hearst Castle was long and hard, but Albert found his rhythm and cycled with an almost overwhelming sense of joy and freedom. The surface of the road was smooth and the riding felt effortless as the sun, setting in the west, warmed his flesh and soul. In ‘the zone’, Albert experienced a spiritual unity with all the characters he’d meet over the past three weeks and with loving thoughts of Blue Bird and Golden Piglet, J-Bird, Ali, Mo, and Bo, together, down the highway they rolled.