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It’s easy to park at the old Piedras Blancas Motel and walk along the coastline in either direction, north to Point Sierra Nevada and Arroyo de la Cruz, or south to the lighthouse.
Cappuccino Cove coffee shop and the motel are a ghost town now, no longer serving pastries, lodging or gasoline to passing tourists. The former owners’ residence is deserted and signs are posted warning visitors that the facilities are closed for renovation.
Trust for Public Land owns the property at present but plans to transfer it to State Parks next year. It will probably become a visitors center, park headquarters and a campground, all part of the new section of San Simeon State Park that extends from Cambria to Ragged Point.
I put Dexter, my dog, on his leash and we walked to the edge of the bluff where a cable runs along the edge to protect people from the dangers of erosion. The ocean is nibbling away at land’s edge in a dramatic way at this location. One of the motel units is in danger and winter storms sometimes send waves breaking over Highway 1 nearby.
We followed an old RV camping road around a small headland down to the beach at the mouth of Arroyo del Corral where a small creek enters the sea.
Sand bars have dammed the creek and created small lagoons where harbor and elephant seals swim during the springtime. Snowy plover habitat is marked off limits in the middle of the beach.
Dexter and I followed a narrow shingle of sand south of the creek between the vertical bluff wall and the surf line. I had timed our hike for early morning low tide but it was getting late and waves were reaching farther inland as we walked.
We raced between waves around a point to the next beach and walked out on a rock that, even though it was 10 feet above water level, had fresh tide pools on top. Beneath our feet, seawater coursed through a narrow fissure, a small channel that compressed and amplified the force of the water and the sound that it made.
Dexter was not enthusiastic about walking out to the very end of the rock and tugged at me to return to the beach, barking in case I missed the message. I’m not the surest-footed gazelle in the herd so that didn’t hurt my feelings and we went back.
I found a small arroyo that provided a way for us to climb away from the rising tide to the ice plant on top of the bluff.
We followed the old route of Highway 1 to the next beach, past a reed-covered creek and a water tank. Waves boomed onto the half-mile stretch of deserted sand which, during birthing season, is covered with hundreds of elephant seals.
Dexter and I climbed up the bluff to the ice plant meadow and walked across the peninsula along the barbed wire fence that marks the Bureau of Land Management boundary.
Pods of elephant seals dozed on the beaches south of the lighthouse, making them off-limits to hikers, so we turned back, heading diagonally across the point toward the Hearst water tank. I found a faint trail through the ice plant that Dexter liked better than bouncing across the springy vegetation.
Back at the coastline we stayed in the dunes above the beach and watched surfers make their way from cars parked on the highway to the water. We passed a driftwood shelter sitting above the water line and watched a blue heron flap lazily across the dunes.
When we reached the car, I wished the coffee shop were still open and serving creamy cappuccinos and hot lattés, but a wish won’t buy you a cup of coffee, so we loaded up and drove away.
Cappuccino Cove coffee shop and the motel are a ghost town now, no longer serving pastries, lodging or gasoline to passing tourists. The former owners’ residence is deserted and signs are posted warning visitors that the facilities are closed for renovation.
Trust for Public Land owns the property at present but plans to transfer it to State Parks next year. It will probably become a visitors center, park headquarters and a campground, all part of the new section of San Simeon State Park that extends from Cambria to Ragged Point.
I put Dexter, my dog, on his leash and we walked to the edge of the bluff where a cable runs along the edge to protect people from the dangers of erosion. The ocean is nibbling away at land’s edge in a dramatic way at this location. One of the motel units is in danger and winter storms sometimes send waves breaking over Highway 1 nearby.
We followed an old RV camping road around a small headland down to the beach at the mouth of Arroyo del Corral where a small creek enters the sea.
Sand bars have dammed the creek and created small lagoons where harbor and elephant seals swim during the springtime. Snowy plover habitat is marked off limits in the middle of the beach.Dexter and I followed a narrow shingle of sand south of the creek between the vertical bluff wall and the surf line. I had timed our hike for early morning low tide but it was getting late and waves were reaching farther inland as we walked.
We raced between waves around a point to the next beach and walked out on a rock that, even though it was 10 feet above water level, had fresh tide pools on top. Beneath our feet, seawater coursed through a narrow fissure, a small channel that compressed and amplified the force of the water and the sound that it made.
Dexter was not enthusiastic about walking out to the very end of the rock and tugged at me to return to the beach, barking in case I missed the message. I’m not the surest-footed gazelle in the herd so that didn’t hurt my feelings and we went back.
I found a small arroyo that provided a way for us to climb away from the rising tide to the ice plant on top of the bluff.
We followed the old route of Highway 1 to the next beach, past a reed-covered creek and a water tank. Waves boomed onto the half-mile stretch of deserted sand which, during birthing season, is covered with hundreds of elephant seals.Dexter and I climbed up the bluff to the ice plant meadow and walked across the peninsula along the barbed wire fence that marks the Bureau of Land Management boundary.
Pods of elephant seals dozed on the beaches south of the lighthouse, making them off-limits to hikers, so we turned back, heading diagonally across the point toward the Hearst water tank. I found a faint trail through the ice plant that Dexter liked better than bouncing across the springy vegetation.
Back at the coastline we stayed in the dunes above the beach and watched surfers make their way from cars parked on the highway to the water. We passed a driftwood shelter sitting above the water line and watched a blue heron flap lazily across the dunes.
When we reached the car, I wished the coffee shop were still open and serving creamy cappuccinos and hot lattés, but a wish won’t buy you a cup of coffee, so we loaded up and drove away.
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