"I descended a dusty gravel ridge beneath the Bixby Canyon Bridge. Until I eventually arrived at the place where your soul had died." --Ben Gibbard in the Death Cab for Cutie song "Bixby Canyon Bridge."Of all the places I knew I'd visit on my journey through the West, I most anticipated seeing Bixby Bridge. It spans a creek and inlet of the Pacific Ocean in one of the most beautiful stretches of California's Big Sur coast.
But it also plays a key role in Jack Kerouac's book "Big Sur." He retreated to a cabin beneath the bridge to escape the stress of growing fame -- a result of his smash hit novel, "On the Road." He didn't find the solace he wanted. In the throes of severe alcoholism, Kerouac had a mental breakdown at the cabin. He died about a decade later.
"Big Sur," in my mind, is much better than "On the Road." It's rawer, real and better written.
The book -- and the bridge -- have become an inspiration for many artists. Death Cab's Ben Gibbard is chief among them. Gibbard went to the cabin to try to channel his inner Jack, an important influence on Gibbard. But Gibbard -- like Kerouac -- found nothing at the cabin beneath the bridge, which he explains in "Bixby Canyon Bridge." (Why he added the "Canyon" to the title, I don't know.)
Anyway, the book, a recent documentary about it ("One Fast Move or I'm Gone") and the film's soundtrack recorded by Gibbard and Son Volt's Jay Farrar inspired me to do my own exploring beneath the bridge. On a glorious California day, I drove to the bridge, hopped out of my Honda Civic with a copy of "Big Sur" in my pocket and intending to descend that dusty gravel ridge.It wasn't that easy. The ridge is actually a poorly maintained road. All of the property along it is guarded by gates. So if you want to get beneath the bridge, you actually have to down-climb steep rock walls closer to the bridge.
I poked my head over the cliffs, trying to decide how to get down. I meandered a while, too scared to try any of them. Then I ran into four 20-somethings from Riverside, Calif. They were on their own quest for Jack's ghost. We coaxed each other to try to descend the 500 or so feet down to the water.
We cut a steep path through bushes and along dusty paths -- run-walking toward the lush green trees below. I never would have tried it alone. After slipping, sliding and fretting about poison oak and ticks, we finally made it.
The creek ran high from the spring rains. The trees glowed green for the same reason. Violent crashing waves provided a far-off soundtrack. It was exactly like Kerouac had described in the early chapters of the book.We followed a trail toward the ocean. We eventually passed an old, rusted car that had fallen from the bridge decades before. It, too, plays a key part in the book.
Then we saw the ocean, the spot where Kerouac penned the poem "Sea" that concludes "Big Sur." We rolled up our pants, ditched our socks and shoes and pranced through the sand and gravel-floor creek. At one point, marooned against some rocks, a huge wave smashed us and coated our lips in salt water.
We then followed the creek away from the ocean and into the trees. We knew Kerouac's cabin was somewhere in that direction. Where the trail crossed the creek, we rigged makeshift bridges of fallen trees.Eventually, though, the creek drank our trail. We had to turn back, having not found Jack's cabin.
Still, we could feel the writer. We were in the place where his soul had, in fact, died.
Getting back up the parking lot was a chore. We free climbed a very steep rock face. It was scary and difficult.
But each pause in the climb provided incredible views of the Pacific. And Kerouac stayed constantly on my mind.Later that night, after climbing another mountain further south of the bridge, I opened a bottle of wine and read "Big Sur" b the fire ring. I finished the book there in the campground, jotting down thoughts, memories and feelings from my climb and my life.
Unlike Gibbard, I felt I was closer to some kind of truth. Because of Jack. Because of Big Sur. Because I was there, and I'd done it.
The details:
Bixby Bridge
Location: California's Big Sur Coast, 15 miles south of Carmel
Length: 2ish miles
Beginning elevation: 500 feet (descending to sea level)
Peak elevation: 500 feet
Difficulty (out of 5): 4
you may very well be the perfect man. :)
ReplyDeleteCongratulations on making it down to the beach! I have fantasized doing this for years, but I had to abandon my one attempt because the "path" I took eventually became a rock face, which I was totally unprepared to negotiate. It appears, however, that you and your hiking mates took a different path than me. Would you be so kind as to enlighten me as to the specifics of where your trailhead was? Mine was on the inland side of the bridge, about three telephone poles down the residential dirt road called Old Coast Road (which begins at the north end of the bridge). But it appears that you and your hiking buddies didn't take the same "path" as me because you didn't encounter the same rock face which ended my attempt. Also, how did you ward off poison oak? I got a major case of it on my forearms despite wearing gloves and a long-sleeve sweater. Thanks in advance of any reply you might wish to offer me! Bing, skadingki@hotmail.com
ReplyDeleteI was only familiar with this bridge because of the Death Cab song and on my roadtrip along the coast I knew that I would make a stop here. We camped out in a tent on that dirt road and got blown around the whole night by howling winds and heavy downpour. I woke early and attempted the hike down from a point approximately 50ft inland from the bridge but hit a fatal stop so turned back. in the meantime my buddy had woken up and had walked to the main road and was looking down. I went to talk with him and long story short, we coaxed each other down. It was a nearly fatal experience but one of my most cherished memories. We managed to capture a handful of pictures and videos but honestly I was too engrossed in the moment so I just got a few to prove we were there and that's it. Took about 45 minutes to get down and at least 2 hours back up. I would not recommend it to anyone unless they have some degree of climbing experience and gear (we had none).
ReplyDeleteI spent a lot of time on this beach in 1971-1972. Our aunt and her family rented on of the cabins near Ferlenghetti's place. I was 12-13 years old and we would hike the valley floor about one mIle to get to the beach. We also had horses that we would ride to the beach occasionally. Very special and magical spot. We observed many rescues of folks from the cliffs.
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