Redwoods and Waterfalls – Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park

03 Sunday Mar 2013

Posted by deborahbrasket in Nature, Photography

Tags

Big Sur, Carmel, Elephant Seals, Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park, McWay Falls, Nature, Photography. Redwood trees, Waterfall

One of my favorite places to visit is the Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park in Big Sur, a two-hour drive from our home. There you can find not only 300-foot (90 m) redwoods which are over 2,500 years old, but an 80-foot waterfall that drops into a protected cove, one of the few waterfalls that empty directly into the ocean. The masthead photo on this blog is of the McWay Falls.

Recently I had the pleasure of taking some out-of-state guests there. Following are photos from our trip.

The drive to the park on Highway 1, winding along the coastline high above the Pacific Ocean, is one most spectacular that you will find anywhere in the world.

Here you can see the highway hugging the coastline. Often it is washed out by rains and mudslides in the winter.

Along the way are glimpses of beautiful coves and beaches and wild flowers..

Julia Pfeiffer Park is located 27 miles south of Carmel. It spans the highway with redwoods groves and picnic areas on one side, skirting the McFall River.

My cousin shows off one of the largest, and perhaps oldest, of the redwoods found in the park.

Visitors can walk through a tunnel under the highway to find trails leading past the falls up to where a home once stood with fantastic views of the ocean to the north and south.

This home had been build by the former U.S. House Representative Lathrop Brown and his wife Helen who acquired the property in 1924. In 1961 they bequeathed the property to the State of California and dedicated it to their friend and neighbor Julia Pfeiffer Burns. They requested their home to be demolished, so only a stone foundation remains.

This is the view from their home to the north. The water colors are some of the most beautiful I’ve seen since traveling in the South Pacific.

A closer view of the northern shoreline.

Here is the view of the McWay Falls through the trees from where the house once stood. Closer views of the falls along the trail follow.

The drive home is no less spectacular, passing along homes built along the hillsides, then dropping down to sea level where we find Elephant Seal Beach, and a peek of Hearst Castle.

Elephant Seal Beach is a protected sanctuary with docents available to answer questions. It’s a few miles north of Cambria along Highway 1, before the climb up to Big Sur.

A chummy clan.

Here you see a bull, its mates, and a baby.

A peak of Hearst Castle high on the mountain top. Soon after this view we turn away from the coast, passing through these mountains to our own hillside home on the other side.

Park and Point: The Big Sur Coast (pamphotography.wordpress.com)
Photo of the day: Where the redwoods rule (quirkydirt.wordpress.com)

A Walk to the River

11 Monday Feb 2013

Posted by deborahbrasket in Nature, Oak Trees, Photography, Water

≈ 18 Comments

Tags

hiking, Nature, oak trees, outdoors, Photo-essay, photography, river, walking

We walked to the river recently, my husband and I and our little dog Mitsy. A short hike down a canyon a few miles from our home.

I left a crumb-trail of photos, if you’d like to join us.

This is where we started. The river lies below that ridge of mountains you see in the background in the photo above.

The way winds downward and grows narrow.

Among the hollows the oak trees look so dark and wild.

Eventually the canyon opens up into a wide, grassy meadow before descending again to the river. A place to linger among the oaks.

We find a tree perfect for a child to climb or swing from . . .

. . . and places to picnic in the sun-filtered grass . . .

. . . while we admire the gracefully curving branches of the oaks, some bending so low as to touch the ground.

We watch out for the critters, spotting the tracks of deer and a mountain lion in the mud left-over from a recent rain.

xxx

And strangely enough, we see the barefoot print of a child, judging from its size.

We cannot imagine what a child this young would be doing out here all alone in the wild. A fairy child, perhaps? Or one raised by wolves? Or the one that lies down with lions and lambs?

Soon enough we catch glimpses of the river far below the meadow. Here a ribbon of blue shows beneath a fringe of pine and oak branches.

Another glimpse, framed by falling strands of moss, shows where the river parts, passing in two strands.

Nearer now an old tree stump stands guard.

Closer still the river is almost lost among shadows and leaves.

The final steep trek winding down toward our destination.

Ah, the river, at last.

Looking to the east is a sign warning us to stay away–a military training camp lies beyond this peaceful setting.

Looking westward all is calm and still.

A stand of trees fed by the river rises straight and tall on one side of the shore . . .

. . . watching their white-barked cousins dance on the other side.

Our little dog sniffs among the leaves . . .

. . . and wades among the shallows . . .

. . . and stops to gaze upon the perfectly rounded world reflected in the still water.

Up close the river is just as pretty–a still life of rock and moss . . .

. . . lies beside the rippling water . . .

. . . while green fronds rise from the mud below.

One last drink before we head home.

The walk back is just as lovely as the way down, the path still dappled in sunlight.

I never tire of admiring the oak trees, each so unique and elegant . . .

It’s almost two lovely to leave . . . .

Liquid Gold (jemj47.wordpress.com)
A River of Love is Inside of me – by Steve Beckow at Golden Age of Gaia (007blueray.wordpress.com)

Sea, Sky, Earth, Fire–My Daughter on Her Wedding Day

20 Sunday Jan 2013

Posted by deborahbrasket in Life At Sea, Memoir, Photography

≈ 27 Comments

Tags

adventure, daughter, sailing, traveling, wedding

She was married beneath a cliff on the edge of the sea standing barefoot on the rocky beach. Barking seals sunning on rocks and crashing waves nearly drowned out the simple ceremony.

Hunchbacked boulders rose from the sea behind her like giant guardian sentinels. A single guitarist played flamenco music to match the red rose in her hair while the late afternoon sun glimmered across the waves.

Sea. Sky. Earth. Fire. All four essential elements holding the world together blended beautifully together that day.

It’s not surprising she would choose such a setting for her wedding day, with all the things that she loves, that helped shape her into the strong, fearless, independent and beautiful woman she is today, in full display. Sea, sky, earth, fire.

She grew up on a cruising sailboat, after all. The rhythm of the sea and sky moves through her body. She was rocked to sleep in her bunk with the sound of the wind and waves rushing all around her, and a sky full of stars for a nightlight.

The world was literally her playground. In every new port or cove we entered she and her brother would row ashore to explore on their own–us trusting they would return safely to us.

Even when her bother stayed behind in Australia she continued to explore on her own.

In Cyprus, Turkey, Malta, Spain—this woman child of fourteen slipped through the streets with her canvas backpack and torn jeans scrawled with the names of the heavy metal rock bands she’d come to love.

With her long dark hair and sun-browned skin, her dangling earrings and silver bracelets, she looked like the Gypsy she may have been, her Spanish heritage in full flaunt.

Her first guitar was purchased in a tiny shop in Toledo. I can still see her bending tenderly over the strings, strumming softly, her face half-hidden by her long bangs and curling strands of hair.

When we returned home after seven years of living on our boat, I worried about this woman-child who had barely seen the inside of a classroom, who had been home-schooled nearly all her life, whose lab work was diving for scallops, gutting fish for frying, drying sea-horses, and identifying shells she’d found beach-combing.

Whose knowledge of history was gathered from the villages she roamed, the cathedrals and castles and museums she visited, the Pyramids of Egypt, the Parthenon in Athens, the Alhambra in Spain.

Political science was gleaned first hand when we were caught in a coup in Fiji, aided by navy sailors flying the cycle and hammer in Port Aden, accused of selling arms to enemy rebels in Sudan, and sailing into Panama on the day it was invaded by US warships in the overthrow of Noriega. How would she survive High School in the United States?

I needn’t have worried. She was as solid as a rock. She had such a strong sense of herself that none of the juvenile drama and gang warfare and cliquish snobbery fazed her.

Nor was it surprising that she chose archeology as a career, or took up skydiving and surfing as her hobbies, or fell in love with someone who loved the sea and sky as much as she did, a fellow skydiver and surfer.

My daughter is as earthy as she is sea and wind washed. As down-to-earth as they come. She digs in the earth for a living. She hikes across hills and mountains surveying the land and mapping archeological formations. She uncovers and catalogues chards of earthen pottery and stone tools from ancient middens.

She hammers copper and strings stones to make her own earrings. She grows her own herbs. She designed her own wedding gown, baked and decorated her own wedding cake. She runs marathons, works out in boot camps, and eats mostly vegan, mostly organic. She takes charge of any calamity with the iron resolve and don’t-mess-with-me attitude of a Marine staff sergeant. If she hasn’t had her morning coffee—well, watch out.

For there’s fire in her soul too. You can see it in her dark snapping eyes, her loud belly laugh, and the way she salsas across the dance floor. In the way she tumbles from planes and rhumbas across the sky, nearly 2000 jumps now.

The thorny rose tattoo that circles her ankle, the diamond stud in her nose, and the chipotle pepper in her dark chocolate wedding cake all attest to her fiery, feisty nature.

You can see that fire in the flamenco inspired wedding dress she designed with the tea-dyed Italian silk, layers of French Chantilly lace and funky high-low hemline, a red flower in her hair to match her red heels. You can see it in the flowers she chose for her bouquet, the scarlets and purples and oranges. You can see it in the way she looks at her new husband and basks in the love-light of his eyes.

Sea. Sky. Earth. Fire. All are perfectly balanced in this beautiful daughter of mine, and blended in perfection on her wedding day.

Did I mention how much I love her? How proud I am of her?

For you baby girl, from your mama–the speech I never gave but composed in my heart as I watched you on your wedding day. January 12, 2013. Twelve days after the world was supposed to end your new life begins.

A Frosty, Sunlit Morning Walk

07 Monday Jan 2013

Posted by deborahbrasket in Backyard, Nature, Oak Trees, Photography

≈ 9 Comments

Tags

backyard, frosty mornings, Nature, oak groves, oak trees, photography, spanish moss

Yesterday when I woke the frost was so heavy on the grassy meadow behind our house it looked like a light pattering of snow had fallen in the night.

Frosty grass DBrasket photo IMG_3699

By the time I went out the sun had risen beyond the hills and streamed down through the trees.

I’d forgotten gloves and my fingers were freezing but I kept walking, snapping up photographs of things I found and wanted to share, like the frost-laced fronds and mushroom below . . .