deetjen inn

Posted on Tuesday, 24 February 2015


How can I possibly describe a place that immediately had my heart the moment I arrived. It's like it was waiting for me all this time. That must be how all the artists that have walked these trails and came through this inn must have felt, there's an electric pull to this magical place, the nature that surrounds is a haven for these folks; an artist's refuge. 

Driving up the pacific coast highway is a feast for the eyes, the magnificent coast, rolling green hills, mountains, steep cliffs and stunning trees. The quick turns, the sometimes terrifying height, and the heat made for a very bumpy ride for me. My temporary nausea was well worth it for the scenery, it will be etched in my mind forever. I was excited to arrive at the Deetjen Inn, a historic Big Sur landmark I had read about years ago, placing it in the back of my mind as a place I knew I would some day visit. My sister booked the inn without being aware of my need to go there, there is something synchronistic about that. 

We arrived at the charming and rustic cabin oasis, walking into the reception, walking into the well preserved past. We asked for our keys to the Chalet room we booked, no keys were given, no keys are needed at a place like this. That little detail set the tone for the experience, a sense of tranquility, trust, community and beauty. It is no wonder the likes of Henry Miller and Jack Kerouac escaped to this land, wrote about it, inhaled the redwoods, gazed at the sunsets, marvelled at the stars. I felt like my body was beaming with inspiration, that's what untouched nature does to the soul, that connection stirs something inside, you get lost in daydreams and creativity is endless and not forced. That is the magic they all came for. There was no internet, no tv and just a library for your entertainment. This is what is must have been like, city anxiety washes away, time slows and beauty is not missed or taken for granted. 

I wanted to preserve every moment, I wanted it to last an eternity. That night after my attempt at drinking some beer (I could only finish two) I went for a short walk through the cabins. The only thing I could hear was the soft river flowing, that kind of silence is a gift. I sat on the steps looking up at the stars and contemplated the enormity of our universe, cliche yes, but oh what a joy to think of only the moment you are in - leaving past and future for another day - just sitting and being and knowing. 






"On soft spring nights i'll stand in the yard under the stars - Something good will come out of all things yet - And it will be golden and eternal just like that - There's no need to say another word" Jack Kerouac, Big Sur



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