Big Sur

Big Sur: A Rec Pass Trip

Tuesday, May 13, 2025

April 18-20, 2025, Big Sur San Simeon backpacking.

I brought Jack Kerouac’s Big Sur with me to the trip, but in the end, I only got to read the first two lines—even that was way before the drive down, when I was waiting for the 22 bus at Church & Duboce. Traversing through the Missions with bulky backpacking gear had me stuck next to the back door kept murmuring “sorry”.

Then I couldn’t stop laughing when I got to the rental lot and saw my friend hidden inside a Giant black Buick Enclave. The car was—I repeat—Giant. Apparently we got a free upgrade because the tiny model we booked (the cheapest option of course) was recently returned damaged, so this Enclave was the only option available. We opted for extra insurance because this would be the first time this domineering presence went onto the road.

What a wild time.

And it all worked out, because we ended up having 4 people with 5 sets of backpacking gear, and cramming into a sedan with each hugging a big backpack for a 4-hour drive would not have been a very pleasant journey.

Like Gary’s wise words said around the campfire —“the secret of the Rec Pass is that somehow all works out.” 

Indeed, it was not the first time that I saw people still looking for rides the very week of the trip—me myself many times the recipient of people’s kindness. Despite my two successful attempts at obtaining driving permits, I never went so far as to get a license, and thus by myself, I never would have been able to make it out to Yosemite or now Big Sur. 

Highway 1 was closed, so we took the inland route, direction San Simeon.

Perhaps I was naturally too shy, or perhaps it simply takes time, I felt a bit self-conscious sitting at the dinner table (camp style). Even so, I could feel the calming of nature seeping in, with every syllable that someone uttered, with every gulp of sweet hot cocoa. 

I’m glad I got a headlamp this time.

The night was quiet.

Interesting to live a weekend without my watch, as if time morphed into some extraterrestrial being. I knew we were aiming for a soft 9:30 departure—but what is 9:30 anyways, tent-packing, hot coffee, looking for friend at the beach without phone communication, sweet yoghurt, non-sweet peanut butter. 

A short drive to see the elephant seals, females lying on the sand (and on top or against each other for supposedly deep-sea pressure mimicking), babies teaching themselves how to swim and fish, and one male perplexingly still around, far lagging behind his migrating peers. So taught this lady who comes around once per month. 

And then we drove to Ragged Point, where there was a fancy coffee shop selling ube matcha even and an old phone booth with a “Döner” sticker. Lunch was Harvarti & Tomato Sandwich, which I brought to the waterfall to enjoy, in serenity.

Then came the stunning drive from Salmon Creek Falls to Kirk Creek Campground along the Pacific Coast, waves and ocean rolling to infinity. The overcast provided a feeling of comfort. I didn’t realize I was playing breakup songs in the car. It was dawning on me, that this was my Goodbye trip, to California. Thank you for the past 4 years.  

The 3-mile elevation up was no joke (not that strenuous in the end, but I am glad I reserved my energy by not talking). The view was absolutely stunning and out of this world. The ocean, the coastline, the mountain, and all the greens and wildflowers. 

We hiked up into the clouds, and then up even more, into the sun.

Snacks never tasted that good. Nor water fresh. And when we finally arrived at the redwood forest high up in the mountains, we felt our spirits relax. There was a stream for us to wash up and gather water.

Dinner time around the fire—plenty of twigs around—and stories. Multiple rounds of waiting for water to boil to make individual freeze-dried meals and hot cocoa/spiced cider. It was the first backpacking trip for some of us, and seeing people try Backpackers Pantry for the first time felt like a witness of initiation.  

Maybe a shared long day of hard physical exertion softened a lot of resistance—I felt more connected with my fellow campers. And the crazily human thing is: we don’t have to be LinkedIn connections to strike up a conversation. Maybe we will never get to see each other again, but that doesn’t deny the realness of our experience together underneath the redwood trees and how meeting you has changed my life, even if just very subtly. And many times one does run into fellow Rec Pass campers elsewhere—on the Grey shuttle, on the bus coming out of the Legion of Honor, at the Grad Student Appreciation Week lunch line, at the Student Food Market … if not at the next trip (all real). 

I made some of my closest SF friends during these Rec Pass trips, and I was just thinking, how Rec Pass really brought colors to my one-year stint at UCSF. When I leave San Francisco this summer, these memories with real people in nature will be some of the most cherished that I bring with me.

A good warm night’s sleep (thanks Kirk for the new purchase), listening to the creek running and snoring from the nearby tent. Waking up to animated bird chirping and an alarm clock from another tent at 6.