Strange Bedfellows
In June, 1994 I found myself hitchhiking on one of my favorite roads - the Pacific Coast Highway. I had been hitching around the country since mid-April, and now it was early June.
I got up one morning after sleeping on a beach near San Luis Obispo, California. A magnificent sunset had concluded my previous day, and now an eerie, yet calmingly invigorating, fog-shrouded morning greeted me. I packed up my sleeping bag and backpack and headed for the highway.
In the parking lot, I met a woman, with bicycle and guitar case in hand, who had also spent the night on a different part of the beach, unbeknownst to me. We swapped travel stories for a while, then I got back on the road heading north toward San Francisco.
This was a day of short rides, but the view of the Pacific Ocean from the cliffs was dazzling. The fog by now lifted, and the end of each ride found me walking to the edge of the cliff to sit and reflect on the beauty of the desolate beaches and pounding waves. It was also a time to write notes in my journal.
An afternoon ride took me past San Simeon. The driver, a young guy and his wife, spotted a stretch of beach where elephant seals were basking in the sunlight and we pulled over. Other cars were also pulled off the highway to watch. We couldn’t get out of the car fast enough, the sight of the seals getting our adrenaline pumping. We jumped a fence, then headed across a meadow to the beach.
We watched the elephant seals, in awe of the brute strength of the 15 or 20 big adult males. Occasional battles between them took place, but the rest of the herd of 1oo were peacefully lounging. After a while, the couple was ready to leave. “Thanks for the ride,” I said, “I think I’ll stay here.”
I sat at the edge of the beach and meadow, my eyes transfixed on this surreal group of animals. An hour later, I heard a “Hello again”. It was the woman from the parking lot. She sat down and we shared the wonderment of this setting.
Several times before her arrival, the highway patrol had cleared the cars from beside the ride. They were enforcing the “No Stopping or Standing” rules. The road was narrow there, so they were doing their duty.
I told her of my plans to spend the night with the elephant seals. She had the same idea, so we went back to the road to fetch her bike and pass it over the fence.
That night we sat on the beach, no more than 50 feet from the 3,000 pound males and 1,200 pound females. She played her guitar, lulling the beasts with her soft voice and soothing melodies. The ocean waves pounding rhythmically added to the music’s harmony. Eventually, we each crawled into our sleeping bags as the symphony and inspiring day came to an end. But to this day, I can still hear the gentle sounds of that night.
- Mountain Man