Driving along, I saw signs for a sea lion view point. I figured it meant that you could pull over, scan the waves, and perhaps catch a glimpse of the backside of a sea lion as it dove under the water. But I pulled over anyway, and here's what I saw:
Look at all of them! They were absolutely hilarious, waving their flippers and scooting along in the sand. Although they are probably the least graceful beings on earth, they love to cuddle, so I can relate to them. But some of them looked revolting, like they had leprosy or something. After reading the information on the little posted signs, I realized they probably were molting. Still gross. I continued along the coast, and with every turn I gasped at how spectacular the scenery was. I kept pulling over to take pictures, but they don't capture the way it felt to be so immersed in the most beautiful wilderness:
Here's the road I was driving on, as it wraps around the mountain ahead of me:
All of a sudden, I saw cars stopped up ahead. This woman dressed in fireman(firewoman?)'s clothing, holding a walkie-talkie, was telling everyone to pull over and get out of their cars so she could explain what was going on. I said, "I just want to get to Big Sur."She looked at me. "You can't. It's on fire."
...?
How can an entire region be on fire? My blank stare must have indicated she should explain further, because she continued: "There are wildfires that are totally out of control in this area, and there's been a landslide, too, so the road's closed. You all have to turn around and go back."
She described a detour I could take, through a military base, that would still lead north. Getting back in the car, I began to drive back the way I had come for about 15 miles, before turning off up a precariously steep mountain road.
This road had no guardrails. At times it was only wide enough for one car. My heart was in my throat as I clutched the steering wheel, leaning forward in my seat as far as I could and praying out loud. At one point I pulled over because I thought I was going to have a panic attack right there in the car. I gazed over the impossibly precarious ravine before me to the mountains beyond and, being entirely alone and unlikely to offend anyone, started singing The Sound of Music. The hills really did feel alive, although I knew that if I misjudged a tight corner I no longer would be.
Singing made me feel considerably better:
After tempting death for another 40 minutes, I finally reached another backed up line of cars, this time at a military check point. Apparently, there is a military base high in the mountains near Big Sur - shh! I watched the guard as he checked licenses and registrations of each car pulling up to the checkpoint - he was sweating from the oppressive heat and seemed pissed off that he had to direct randoms through his base as a detour. I pulled up and smiled at him as I rolled down the window. He gruffly inspected my license and rental car agreement forms, then caught my eye as he handed them back and smiled, too. "You have beautiful eyes!" He exclaimed. "You just made my day!"
I laughed aloud. How fantastic that my eyes could make his day! Random kindness seems to be a trend as I encounter more people in this state, and it makes me glad to be moving here. His compliment made my day, and I drove the remaining 70 miles to Carmel-by-the-Sea in a good mood.
Carmel-by-the-Sea is a very silly place. The buildings don't have numbers! So in the guide it will say, "On Ocean St. between 4th and 5th" or something... and you have to wander the whole block peering in windows to find the right place. Other than its inconceivable silliness, Carmel is a quaint little town full of rich people spending money in art galleries. I decided to stay overnight in Monterey, where the prices are a little less over my budget.
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