You know what’s crazy? I’ll tell you what’s crazy.™
The Spot.
It’s in a corner of a tree house like deck in a restaurant in the middle of Big Sur.
The spot is approximately 875 feet above sea level. It has a 270 degree view of the pacific coast line and gigantic redwoods that stretch beyond.
I am drinking a bloody Mary and taking in the splendor. There is hardly a cloud in the sky and I’m thankful for the umbrella over the table.
The trees are filled with sharp eyed scrub jays eyeing fallen french fried potatoes. I watch as they hop from limb to limb to the corner of the restaurant roof. They have one mission, seek and destroy food from unsuspecting diners.
Like fighter bombers that poop, they make their run.
Woosh, they land, peck, grab and retreat into the sky, squawking triumphantly as they escape.
I watch this aerial procession over and over. And each time tourists in a multitude of languages comment on the spectacular aggressiveness of the dance.
The vista affords one a long and luxurious mental respite. The waves, though powerful, from this vantage point, appear to be tiny undulations across my field of vision.
The sun blankets the water, sending a million reflective sparklers in every direction.
Whitecaps dot the sea. From this angle, they look like aluminum foil rhythmically dancing to the sound of a wind chime singing insouciantly on another deck somewhere.
I sip a drink of my bloody Mary. The pepper and tomato juice create a frenetic reaction around my tongue.
Delightful! Whoever invented this drink should be given a raise, I think to myself.
From above, the Scrub Jays with their angry, calculating food stealing demeanor, continue to dive bomb the patio hunting for scraps.
Meanwhile, a steady stream of patrons stop at the spot.
“How many pictures a day do you think are taken at this one place?” I ask out loud.
During our hour in this tree house in the clouds, we watch people pose for pictures.
The backdrop is unlike any other. It is one of Earth’s great masterpieces. Like chocolate kisses, it is almost impossible not to photographically pop one in your mouth.
I watch families stop and put their arms around one another. They push their locks to this side or that. They tuck in a shirt or untuck a shirt. One little boy unwedges a wedgie that has found a place deep inside his abdomen.
“Cheese.”
The fake smiles emerge. The moment last forever as the camera takes time to focus.
“Got it,” someone will say in French or Japanese or Brooklyneese.
The smiles dissipate. The group leans forward. They all want instant satisfaction.
How do we look they wonder. What they really mean is how do I look?
Remember the old days when you didn’t know? You had to wait till the photo store developed your prints. When you finally picked them up, you probably forgot what was on the roll.
Now it is instant and immediate gratification.
Take another I hear over and over.
I watch the lovers pose for iphone pictures they take themselves.
I watch bikers with cut off t shirts, families from Germany and senior citizens pose in the spot.
The faces change, but the spot remains the same. It is the corner of Nepenthe, closest to the ocean, closest to the sun, closest to that peaceful place that speks to us all.
I wonder If I went to facebook and could google the longitude and latitude of this spot, how many times the corner of the deck at Nepenthe, over looking Big Sur and the Pacific ocean would show up?
A thousand? A million? More?
The General Manger tells us they serve over 400 meals a day here. I assume they serve twice that many drinks.
While we are here it is a non stop parade of gawkers and photographers and posers at the spot.
When the spot is occupied, others politely wait.
The spot is not well publicized. It is not on any map. It is not a destination like the Eiffel Tower or the Empire State building. These are obvious snap shot vistas. The spot is a place that you just happen upon. It is in the corner by the gates to heaven. You didn’t know it would be there. You simply knew you wanted to stop and have lunch.
The spot is a quiet magnet made of sunshine and whispering wind that floats up the side of the cliff.
I watch each family, each person, each lover, take their photos and leave, satisfied that they have a memory of something great in their lives.
They are right. The spot at the deck at the tree house over the pacific is a special place.
And that is crazy.™