The Esalen Institute, a consciousness-raising retreat perched above the Pacific Ocean, closed last week because there was no exit. When the rains stop, about 70 students and staff holed up in the picturesque spot on one of the world’s most famous stretches of road will be evacuated via helicopter.
Other major retreats and resorts around Big Sur have also been shut down as portions of California Highway 1 have been ravaged by winter storms, flooded by waterfalls and cluttered with rocks, boulders and mudslides. A bridge, adjacent to one of the most visited tourist spots on the highway, appears to be damaged beyond repair.
When rocks stop falling, state workers can begin cleanup of the coastal highway – but authorities said many miles of this major highway could be closed for up to a year while the damaged bridge is restored or replaced.
Since the beginning of California’s rainy season, Big Sur has had 60.25in of rain, “making it historically the wettest season to date”, said Duane Dykema, National Weather Service meteorologist. Records date back 102 years.
These are trying times in paradise for businesses, residents and workers in the tourism industry. The financial losses for county and state government could be significant. Many of the housekeepers, waitstaff and others in the lowest rung of the vacation economy are out of work.
Last week, a homeless man living under Pfeiffer Canyon Bridge reported a mudslide and multiple fractures in one of the bridge’s columns. Authorities acted quickly, blocking the road north of the bridge.
Guests at nearby hotels in the heart of Big Sur, 150 miles south of San Francisco, fled in cars and on foot before the bridge was permanently closed.
At Esalen, 120 students and staff initially chose to stay behind, but a little over half of those are now planning to leave. Life for those awaiting evacuation is still is good. They dine on ratatouille, Thai curry soup, rice, quinoa and vegetables from their bountiful garden. But with no new food or fuel, they soon will be reduced to rice, beans and kale, said Gordon Wheeler, Esalen’s president and CEO. Esalen continues to pay its employees. But the situation is worsening, with no gas or electricity as Esalen is cut off from the rest of the world. Wheeler said the helicopter evacuation would probably take place next week.
Hundreds of tourists are stranded in motels without power and with no road access, but when the road is clear of debris, they will be able to continue their journeys. But those south of the broken bridge and north of major rockslides may not be able to leave for weeks.
The financial impact of an impassable highway in the north could be catastrophic. Once boulders and rockslides to the south are cleared, staff will be able to leave, and visitors will once again be able to access the heart of Big Sur from the direction of Los Angeles.
But most of of Big Sur’s traffic typically comes from the north.
David Galarza, an engineer and structures representative with the California department of transportation, said removing and replacing the Pfeiffer Canyon Bridge could take 10 months to a year. The department is exploring locations of the installation of a temporary bridge.
Kirk Gafill, president of the Big Sur Chamber of Commerce, surveyed the population and estimated that 435 people were stuck on the wrong side of the bridge, living without services, in an enclave that stretches 17 miles along the coast.
Some are workers who live in employee housing and have no place else to go. Some are filing for unemployment insurance. Many longtime residents known for their independence and robust nature remain.
“I’m well stocked on propane gasoline to recharge my solar system, food, dog food and wine,” a local blogger known as BigSurKate, who specializes in fires, floods and road closures, said in an email. “What more could a gal want?”
While Big Sur was once a remote destination visited mostly by Americans, it now is a bucket list must-see for global travelers. At a no-frills roadside restaurant here, the bill comes with tipping information in Chinese and five other languages. Tourists are drawn to the isolated, dramatic terrain.
Now the hospitality industry, which creates the mirage of luxury and fuels much of the region’s economy, is reduced to necessities.
The post office is closed indefinitely, as are the stores except the Big Sur Deli, whose employees wheelbarrowed supplies across the bridge before it closed. Ray Medina, an employee separated from his home on the other side of the broken bridge, has been using a sleeping bag and air mattress on the premises for a week.
Post Ranch Inn, which charges $1,425 a night for ocean views, Ventana Inn & Spa (tag line: “A place to be”), and the well-known Nepenthe Restaurant, which hangs above the Pacific, also are shut.
“The X-factor is the ongoing rain,” said Gafill, general manager of Nepenthe. “It’s only February and there’s plenty of winter ahead of us.”
Nepenthe, which was started in 1949 by Gafill’s grandparents, has sufficient reserves to make it through a six-month shutdown. Its business interruption insurance excludes losses due to landslides, a common exclusion in Big Sur. “This is a massive economic disruption,” he said, “but it is survivable.”
The situation is dire further along the coast, at the New Camaldoli Hermitage, a silent retreat with solo guest housing at $135 a night and a monastery. The 12 monks and 13 staff live two miles up a perilous mountain road that is so damaged that delivery drivers can no longer navigate it, according to Rich Veum, who operates a bookstore on the site.
The monks support themselves with guest fees, the bookstore, donations and the sale of their Holy Granola and fruitcakes, but all that has stopped. “We will be unable to make needed repairs or open our doors again to the public unless we can raise donations,” Veum said. The monastery has two months’ worth of food, a spring for water and a diesel generator, but no ability to resupply the diesel fuel.
Mike Freed, managing partner of Post Ranch Inn, which was full before the road closure, is hopeful that if the highway is not reopened soon, guests will arrive by helicopter. In the meantime, he said, the resort was setting up a school for workers’ children unable to reach theirs on other side of the bridge.
At Treebones Resort, an otherworldly mountaintop retreat of yurts and a five-star tent ($550 per night), owners John and Corinne Handy have waived rent and utilities for employees and are helping with emergency costs. The Handys can no longer count on a weekly revenue of $40,000-$50,000 (more in the summer). They built Treebones 12 years ago and have limited reserves.
“In a month, we’re going to start seeing a world of hurt,” Handy said. On Saturday night, staff and neighbors got together for a potluck, enjoying bacon-wrapped meatloaf, beet and goat cheese salad, wine and laughter. It was an “evening of reminding each other that we are not alone”, he said.
But after enduring horizontal rains and 60mph winds, Handy reflected on the irony. “Paradise can turn on you very quickly.”
A previous version of this article incorrectly said the Nepenthe restaurant was opened in 1958.