Embrace the Big Sur coast

It was raining so hard that we could barely see beyond the shoreline. The surf was big, but the pounding rain and southeast winds prevented us from judging the true swell conditions while paddling along the rugged Big Sur coastline.

Still, we had to go. We were somewhere south of Andrew Molera State Beach, me in my kayak and former US National Rowing Team members Patrick O’Hea and Will Miller paddling on stand-up paddleboards. The tide was coming in and the beach wasn’t particularly deep. We soon ran out of room.

As we set off from this nameless beach, the sideways rain, low-hanging fog and storm clouds created a grey, horizonless expanse in the midst of the storm. We improvised. In the small bay, a tidal wave lapped at the rocks and rebounded on our right, leaving us battling waves from three directions. Most of the waves crashed in front of us, but the larger waves created steep balls of foam that gained momentum, bounced off eroding cliffs and rebounded on our blind side.

I helped O’Hea and Miller launch one by one without any issues, but now it was my turn. They paddled almost flawlessly through the surging surf. I wasn’t so lucky and had mistimed my launch. After jumping into my kayak, I fought through the first wave, but the second wave was bigger and already breaking. Before I knew it, I was surfing backwards on a six-foot wave as the water was being pulled off the pebbly shore. As my tail slammed into the sand, I instinctively curled into a ball as I was catapulted. Bracing myself for impact, I felt the back of my head graze the moving shoreline as a total flea market began.

Miraculously, I came out unscathed, aside from all the gritty wet sand that got between me and my wetsuit. Still, neither I nor my kayak were damaged. Aside from searching for scattered camera equipment, a spare paddle and a water bottle, I was already planning my next attempt.

While I was struggling to get going, I lost sight of Miller and O’Hea as the weather wouldn’t allow it. I told them to try to stay in the mouth of the bay. At that point I just had to get off that beach. And that’s what I did, fighting through three big waves, and even better, I found Miller and O’Hea up high, splashed by the rain, beyond the surf.

The beginnings of Big Sur

Since Pacific Coast Highway 1 (PCH) opened in 1937, the 75-mile stretch of Big Sur’s winding coastline has been closed 55 times due to landslides. In 2022-23 alone, rapid fire closures occurred due to consecutive wet winters with multiple landslides. As of January 2023, it has been impossible to drive the entire stretch north of the Piedras Blancas Lighthouse and south of Carmel. Of the 656 miles of California’s coastline, the Big Sur coastline is arguably one of the most stunning. When the road is passable, Big Sur receives more visitors than Yosemite National Park.

Every time I’ve driven the winding route in the past, I’ve been overwhelmed by the idea of ​​living in isolation on the California coast. Due to daunting coastal topography and strict land-use regulations, the Big Sur coast is sparsely populated. About 2,000 people eke out a living on the weather-beaten shores, on the edge of high cliffs, and in the chaparral-covered Santa Lucia coastal mountain range.

So it took a paddle to satisfy my curiosity and hopefully demonstrate just how remote and Mordor-like these massive, sheer cliffs really were. There were plenty of dangerous examples of how far people were willing to go to find solitude. A few dilapidated dwellings looked like they would require BASE jumping training or wearing parachutes 24/7. Some dwellings literally clung to rock faces, hanging towards the boulder-strewn shores. Several times I found myself asking myself, “How can you sleep in these conditions?”

With a combination of steep scree slopes and crumbly rock, Big Sur is always vulnerable to earth shifting. Increasing wildfires don’t help the mountainous topography either, and fires followed by wet winters only increase erosion. Between 2016 and 2023, Caltrans has spent $315 million on emergency work to secure the Big Sur region.

Although Highway 1 has been closed for two years, the rugged coastline still beckoned. Most visitors traveling the winding coastline don’t get the chance to enjoy the stunning views from sea level. It was impressive.

After the storm

It’s amazing how blue skies, puffy white clouds and sunshine can brighten the outlook for a trip. The three of us took off our wetsuits and traded them in for swim trunks, hats, sunglasses and sunscreen and glided along the Big Sur coast.

Still, there were more difficult landings in the enormous surf, moments of reflection under starry nights and cool encounters with wildlife, followed by challenging takeoffs, all well below the PCH.

Big Sur has always looked intimidating from above. As we paddled, all three of us agreed that the coast was no joke.

On our last day on the water, the coastal mountains rolled eastward as steady northwest winds pushed us toward the windswept beach north of the Piedras Blancas Lighthouse. Another difficult landing awaited us, but so did solid ground. But nothing was easy when paddling along the Big Sur coast.