Pfieffer State Beach

Death and stars

The day started well. The sky was blue and the sun was shining down upon us. But then it always did in California. Looking up at that sky you knew it was going to be another hot one. But little did we know what a day it was going to be – a day of ups and downs.

We were heading out of San Francisco on our way to LA. Our American companion, Jack, was taking us round to stay with friends in Venice Beach. This was all part of our big American adventure. We planned to stop off at Pfieffer State Beach to camp over and soak up the atmosphere in the wake of Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac. Exciting stuff. It seemed that I was living my dreams.

The three of us, my girlfriend Liz, Jack and me were standing on the side of the freeway with our thumbs out. The wheel spin of fast moving cars sent clouds of dust over us. Nobody seemed willing to pick up three young hitch-hikers. The sun was getting hot and there was no shade. It did not look as if our luck was in.

To make it worse a pretty girl was hitching just ahead of us.

Eventually a big open-top Cadillac pulled over. It was being driven by a young army officer. He picked up the girl and motioned for us to get in the back. We did not need much urging. We grabbed up our bed-rolls and rucksacks and soon ensconced in the luxurious leather of the massive back seat, rolling through the California hills with the sun on our faces and warm air trailing our hair out behind us. What could be better?

The two of them talked in the front while we stretched out in the back. It was the first time I had ever ridden in a real Cadillac. It was the fabled vehicle that I’d heard in the Bo Diddley song covered by the Kinks. And here I was riding through California in one!

The coast road was a windy two-lane highway, high up the mountains. On one side you have the sheer face of the mountain, carved out of the solid rock, and on the other you have a drop down to the distant rocks below with the waves crashing over them – so picturesque.

The lieutenant seemed to want to impress the girl in the front and was putting the car through its paces. We were doing a good hundred. There was a thrill to it but it was also a bit scary. The only thing separating us from the rocks below was a narrow strip of sand and a rail. But, hey, he seemed competent, even if he was driving with one hand on the wheel and seemed to spend most of the time smiling over at the girl.

We went round a bend to find ourselves confronted with a terrifying sight. Heading right for us was a huge truck overtaking another truck. The whole road was a mass of metal. There was nowhere to go.

Without thinking the lieutenant swung us over to the narrow strip of sand at the side. It didn’t seem wide enough. The rail was a mere inches away from us. We bounced along, careering over the uneven sand doing nigh on a ton as the two trucks screamed past centimetres away on the other side. In the back we were bouncing right up out of our seats as the car bucked and bounced. Ahead a signpost was looming. At the last second, just as we cleared the trucks, the lieutenant pulled us back on the road. The tyres on our left gripped while the ones on the sand did not. The car went into a spin. We were heading straight for the rail. The nose dug into a sand dune and the whole back end of the car shot up into the air threatening to shoot us out into space. For a moment we hung there like a fairground ride, looking down at the distant rocks below. Then it fell back with a great bump.

We were all stunned – surrounded with a great cloud of dust. Time was suspended. We sat and stared, catching our breath and imagining how close we had come as the world settled around us.

Neither truck stopped to see what had happened.

We had to dig the car out and push it back on the road. We managed to get it restarted. It was a more subdued journey after that. He dropped us off at the top of the dirt road leading down to the beach.

It was evening now. We walked cheerfully down the mile and a half to the beach below, chortling about our close call and looking forward to setting up camp.

When we arrived the sun was setting, a line of people were sitting on the beach watching the sun set through a hole in a rock in the middle of the bay. The waves were crashing. A jay was being passed along. It seemed idyllic.

We ate, shared and laughed a lot. We told the tale of our near death experience, someone had a guitar – things were good.

Then the police arrived and busted everyone. They got very heavy and threatening. We were roughly grabbed and driven back up to the top where we were dumped by the side of the highway. It seemed our idyll had been rudely interrupted.

Yet, out of failure can come great success.

We got our bedrolls out and lay back looking up at the magnificent sky. Up high in the Sierras the Milky Way was like a great arc of smoke. The sky was a mass of stars like salt strewn on a black velvet cloth. Around us the mountain lions roared and I lay in my sleeping bag reminiscing about Kerouac and Miller and how they’d breathed this very air, smelt the sweet pines and fragrant shrubs, laid back like this and stared up at that same sky, felt that same sense of wonder, listened to the mountain lions and tasted that same mystery of life.

A great wind suddenly rose up threatening to blow us away. But it all just seemed part of the magic of the place. Somehow we felt safe.

We silently roared our joy up into that mystical sky like ecstatic cougars. Life seemed all the richer.