Big Sur - Bohemian Magic
Hey everyone, it's Aaron again. I felt compelled to write this post because Big Sur has felt magical to me ever since I first explored it nearly fifteen years ago. Back then, I was immediately captivated by its remote, raw beauty—the way it invites both solitude and self-reflection, and the self-reliance required to live in a place like this. It’s easy to understand why so many artists have been drawn to call it home: Ansel Adams, Jack Kerouac, and Henry Miller among them.
My clearest memory is of visiting the Henry Miller Memorial Library, a humble cabin tucked deep into a steep valley of coastal redwoods. It specializes in local artwork, Henry Miller’s writings, and a thoughtfully curated collection of historically banned books. Inside, a wood stove roared against the chill. Big Sur weather is famously unpredictable, even in summer. Ray LaMontagne played softly in the background while a handful of locals and travelers chatted with the library’s caretaker, the air thick with warmth, rain, and the scent of woodsmoke. I know I know.....it sounds like it's out of an Instagram influencer video, but I swear it happened.
There are only a few travel moments in my life that have truly imprinted themselves on me, and this is one of them. Sitting by the stove, reading Tropic of Capricorn, listening to rain drum against the metal roof, the windows dimmed by towering redwoods, it’s a memory etched into me forever. I couldn’t be more excited to return and share this place with my family.
Like Morro Bay, the moment we passed Monterey and headed south on the final 30-mile stretch of the Pacific Coast Highway, we were completely blown away by the raw beauty of this section of the California coast. Those feelings only intensified as we traveled south, hugging the ocean side of the highway, mere feet from sheer drop-offs plunging straight into the Pacific below. Towing a 9,000-pound, 34-foot trailer definitely heightened the sense of adventure.
Our campground was equally stunning, tucked into a grove of towering coastal redwoods. The kids immediately began running in circles around a tree that had to be more than ten feet in diameter. The trees were so massive that Steph declared she felt like she was living in a fairy garden...and that she was the fairy. One small but much-loved perk was the free coffee and hot cocoa each morning. It quickly became a cherished ritual to watch the kids wake up and skip off on their own to grab their morning cocoa.
Also at our magical campground were payphones… WORKING payphones! The kids (and who am I kidding, Steph and I too) were thrilled to use them, and they took turns calling each grandparent. It was hilarious. It took a few tries to actually make a call (we’re still not sure whether you’re supposed to dial first or insert the quarters first) and of course we had to text them ahead of time to answer, because no one picks up unknown numbers anymore. Between the daily morning hot cocoa and the payphones straight out of the ’90s, I’m not sure which ended up being the kids’ favorite.
We ventured out to Pfeiffer Beach for a picnic and a walk along its famous purple sand. There wasn’t much purple visible thanks to the recent king tides, but the beach was stunning all the same; a sheltered cove, a dramatic rock arch, and waves crashing through it in steady rhythm. As we explored, the kids discovered a ridiculously steep sandy hill and immediately turned it into a challenge, using long strands of kelp to help themselves climb. Watching them work together was great and watching them inevitably topple back down in a laughing, sandy heap was even better.
I was especially excited to bring the family to the Henry Miller Memorial Library so they could experience some of the magic I remembered so vividly. It was just as I’d hoped. The art installations were still funky and unexpected, and this time I discovered the kids’ section, something that hadn’t even been on my radar fifteen years ago 😊. The kids were completely fascinated by the old typewriters scattered around the space, likely meant as decoration. The caretaker was incredibly patient and gracious, pulling each one out and attempting to get them working so the kids could try them, ultimately failing, since, well… they were decorations. Still, it was a sweet moment, now forever intertwined with my own early memories of this place.
No trip to Big Sur feels complete without a stop at McWay Falls, one of the rare tidefalls in the United States, a stream that spills directly from the cliffs into the ocean below. It’s outrageously beautiful, though the view looking back up the coastline was just as breathtaking. That single stop somehow captures the essence of Big Sur’s wild beauty.
We rounded out our stay with a hike down to Partington Cove, a uniquely tucked-away spot accessed through a manmade tunnel leading to a secluded cove. For more than a century, this place has served both legitimate and not-so-legitimate purposes. In the 19th century, it functioned as an industrial port, shipping tanbark and redwood lumber. Later, during Prohibition, it’s rumored to have been used for smuggling liquor to meet San Francisco’s thirst. We picnicked in the cove, imagining how wild it must have been to dock a boat there, all while watching waves crash violently against the rocks around us.
Big Sur is every bit as wild and magical as I remember. Looking back, it ranks right up there with Glacier and Zion as one of the most incredible places we’ve visited on this trip. Adding these new family memories to my earlier ones feels completely priceless.