August 1, 2013 Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, part 1
This post is part of a series. To read the first post, click here. To see more Point Lobos photos, click here.
A few short weeks after my trip to Pinnacles, I got a chance to visit another lovely, protected place in nature. I only spent one day at Point Lobos State Natural Reserve, but it left a deep imprint on my memory as the most outrageously beautiful seashore I've ever seen. It was so wondrous and varied that I am compelled to devote three photo-filled posts to it now.
Point Lobos is about halfway between Santa Cruz and Big Sur, just south of Carmel, only an hour's drive away from my house. Sundari, my uncle Brad, and I piled into Aki's car a few days before Thanksgiving, when that autumn tang was in the air and every day was sunny. I get almost delirious with visual delight in the fall, as I mentioned in my posts about camping at Pinnacles. There is something about the way the light looks in November on the California coast that sneaks into my heart every year to give its inner workings a sharp tug when I least expect it. I manage with these twinges using photography. I was prepared to cope thusly that day, with my Canon 7D camera, my Sigma 10-22 wide-angle lens, and my Canon 85mm prime lens. The Canon 85mm in particular hadn't been used much over the past year, and I was looking forward to trying it out at Point Lobos.
We parked on the road just outside the boundary of the reserve where we wouldn't have to pay a fee, and walked in on the Carmelo Meadow Trail to where it meets the Granite Point Trail. Within seconds of stepping out of the car I was already taking pictures frantically. The point is only a mile long and a mile wide, but it feels much larger, because every inch of it is packed with marvelous things.
The Carmelo Meadow Trail runs a short distance through a Monterey pine forest. At the end of the trail the ocean appears, first as a distant light and dull roar of waves, then as a burst of brilliant blue-green water when the shore is reached. From the very first steps on this trail, I felt like I was walking into a dream. There was plenty to see on this ten-minute walk, many bird species and mushrooms and the inimitable grace of Monterey pines. I desired not just to point my lens at these things but to somehow scoop them up with my camera and hold onto them physically. This urge would stay with me all day long.
We came out of the woods on Granite Point Trail, which runs along the top of Whaler's Cove. The four of us walked along looking down at the water until we came to the trail that leads down to The Pit. This is another, smaller cove with high walls, full of loose rocks in all sizes, from boulders to pebbles. Gravel was quarried here in the 1920s, mostly for use in roofing materials, and this beach definitely has the kind of gravel that would please even the most exacting gravel collector. I found the rounded stones that covered this beach very satisfying to handle and photograph. I learned later that these pebbles are made of volcanic rock. The Pit is an example of the Carmelo Formation at Point Lobos, a conglomerate of volcanic rock, sandstone and mudstone, washed to this spot from far away.
Aki guided us to the entrance to a small cave, and we all ventured into it. He asked us to join hands and form a circle, and then we teleported to another dimension.
No, of course we didn't do that, but it almost seemed like it could happen. There is something otherworldly about Point Lobos; I felt it strongly when I emerged from that cave. And if anybody would be likely facilitate an impromptu interdimensional teleportation on a day hike, it would probably be Aki.
After lingering at The Pit for a while, we climbed to Granite Point. This treeless, jutting promontory exposes the true bedrock of all of Point Lobos, the granodiorite. Formed in the process of magma cooling underground, this granodiorite is composed of mineral grains of quartz, orthoclase feldspar, plagioclase, feldspar, amphibole, and biotic mica. Right next door at The Pit, the granodiorite bedrock is covered by the Carmelo Formation, but here at Granite Point it appears on the surface, as a very hard, light-colored rock that is highly resistant to erosion. It shone brightly that day through the faint mist created by the crashing waves, ice plants gleaming on its surface like jewels.
We stopped for a picnic, then scattered to explore interesting nooks. Sundari and Aki found a high perch above the water to sit and contemplate the beauty spread out below them. Brad hiked directly to the biggest rock that marks Granite Point and made its acquaintance. I ran to and fro like a hyperactive chipmunk, wanting to take a picture of everything at once. I found myself drawn to the places where water pooled and surged between rocks, showing colors I'd never seen in the sea before. Here the 85mm lens revealed itself to be the ideal tool for pulling this scene into my camera. It produced sharp, crisp photos, as prime lenses usually do, and it rendered blues and greens with a richness that pleased me mightily.
From Granite Point we could see the shoreline of Carmel to our north. I noticed that one beach in particular looked familiar. I was sure I had been there before. It was Carmel River State Beach, where I had just shot my final wedding with Red Bat Photography. I was intrigued by the idea of seeing it from the other side. It reminded me once again that I was moving into an entirely new phase of my life as a photographer. No longer was I shooting with an eye for bouquet details and touching exchanges of vows. The tidepools and rocky crags of this coast, a tempting distraction while I was taking pictures for money, were now my primary focus. On that November afternoon by the sea, the taste of liberation was strong and sweet.
Visible from Granite Point was a churchlike building in the hills above another beach. I wondered what its purpose was. Later reading revealed this to be the Carmelite Sisters Monastery, above Monastery Beach. In the course of studying the history of Point Lobos, I found that many human trajectories converged in this area. It would take more than a few blog posts to chronicle the interactions of people with Point Lobos, not to mention the large amount of research that would necessarily precede such an effort. Such a chronicle is beyond the scope of my powers at this moment, but I did enough poking around to discover a few basic facts. For a small place, it certainly has seen a lot of action.
First to live here were the Ohlone, or more specifically, the Rumsen people. The Rumsen group lived in this area 2500-3000 years ago, in spring and summer camps made along two of the creeks. A village established 3000 years ago along San Jose Creek, known as Ichxenta, is thought to be the longest inhabited Ohlone village site in the Monterey area. Descendants of these people today call themselves the Costanoan Rumsen Carmel Tribe. Next to arrive were the Spanish, who explored and later colonized the area from 1602 BCE to 1822, establishing a mission in Carmel. This mission grazed its cattle on the grassy meadows of what is now the Reserve, probably the first non-native use of the site. During this period, the barking of sea lion residents gave Point Lobos its name: Punta de los Lobos Marinos, or Point of the Sea Wolves.
Mexican independence in 1822 led to the land being given to a man named Escobar as a grant. After his death, the property passed through many hands and was divided up. It wasn't until 1888, when the Carmel Land and Coal Company acquired it, that the site was once again owned by one party. As the company's name implies, coal mining became important to Point Lobos, though only for a few decades. The coal was mined a few miles away and Point Lobos was the place where it could be easily loaded onto ships. Granite quarrying was already taking place when the nearby coal was discovered. The granite quarry was located on site, behind what is now a visitor parking lot, and it supplied materials used to build important government buildings far away, such as the US Mint in San Francisco.
Coal and granite were far from the only resources exploited at Point Lobos over the years. Animals were harvested too, starting with abalone. The Rumsen tribe had gathered abalone at Point Lobos for thousands of years, and others eventually followed suit, starting with Chinese fishermen in the 1850s. Besides abalone, the ocean here yielded squid, sea urchins, and fish. Later, a Japanese marine biologist pioneered the diving method of obtaining abalone when the shallow fishing areas gave out. An abalone cannery operated here until 1928; it was established just after Point Lobos was purchased once again, this time by a man named Alexander Allan, who would be crucial to the eventual preservation of this land as a park.
Whales were soon added to the list of animals that were unlucky enough to be taken from the sea here. Portuguese whalers began shore-harvesting whales at Point Lobos starting in the 1860s, continuing until petroleum production made the whaling industry less economically viable just under thirty years later. In the photo above, you can see the Whaling Station Museum at Point Lobos, the only on-site whaling museum on the west coast. This building was actually part of the Chinese abalone fishermen's settlement here in the 1850s. The original house still stands, and now it contains a fascinating and disturbing exhibit about the whaling process, the whalers, and their families. After enjoying the beauty of the seashore, it was a shock to suddenly see illustrations of whales being killed and butchered, and to imagine that lovely beach covered with blood.
Upon entering the museum, we heard a recording of whale sounds being played through a speaker in one corner. I found it heartbreaking to listen to their songs while inspecting the tools that were used to kill them and render their fat into oil. It was sad enough to learn about the whaling process, but to have that information paired with amplified whale conversation really pushed me over the edge into melancholy. In all, a highly effective exhibit. What a strange place of extremes this Point Lobos is, I thought as I walked out of the building. It took a while to shake off the sadness that had settled on me there.
Even the natural beauty of Point Lobos has been harvested for money, most notably by the motion picture industry. Hollywood first recognized the potential of Point Lobos in 1914 with the film Valley of the Moon. Over forty films have been shot here, most recently in 1989, and the locale is still used for commercials and catalog shoots. I wondered if the dreamlike feeling I got there had anything to do with having glimpsed Point Lobos in movies thoughout my life. This scenery may very well be part of the landscape of our collective unconscious.
Finally it was time to leave history lessons behind and disappear into the trees. We saw a trail near the museum leading up a hill and followed it. The North Shore Trail was a steep climb in some places, a rocky path over tree roots that took us to outstanding views of the coves and promontories we'd been exploring. We stopped and looked back at where we had walked that day, then hiked onward, to peer down at previously unseen coves on the western side of the Point. The woods were full of delightful objects. Trees and cones were painted in layers of moss and lichen, and everything was drenched with a misty sort of light.
The North Shore Trail ended in a meadow where it joined the Cypress Grove Trail. Coming out of the woods into that field in late afternoon was a glorious, sun-drenched moment of transcendental bliss. We stopped at an information kiosk that displayed otter and sea lion pelts and other objects of interest, but I didn't care about any of that stuff. All I wanted was the wide open space in front of me, the blue sky, the flat-topped cypress in the distance and the raptors circling above.
We were headed for the Cypress Grove Trail. "The best is yet to come!" Aki told us. Was it really possible for the next trail to be even better than this? I couldn't wait to find out.
I am really flabbergasted by both your descriptive writing( narrative, educational, contemplative, poetic!) and your photography which I see is the visual equivalant. Your very particular take on each subject you photograph and your method of developing are so elegant, understated and draws me in.