From San Simeon to Castro Valley
This column is being composed from the calm of the coastal town of San Simeon. It is a place where I have been retreating to for decades. As I write, reflections occur from many visits here. The first was in 1967 – the year of my graduation from college. My home then was as it now is - in Castro Valley. To celebrate, I joined two friends to journey to Mexico. We traveled far down the Gulf of California. It was on a rickety bus that we boarded in Tijuana. It included local people as well as cages of chickens. Like college, it was an educational experience.
After spending a week in Mexico, we chose Highway 1 as the route to return home. It was a road we had not traveled before. Like college, Tijuana, and the rickety bus, it would be an experience. As we drove north the sun set and we grew tired. A motel was not affordable, so we found a place to camp on the beach. We did not know where we were, but it was the town of San Simeon. The few remaining drops from a bottle of tequila insured a restful sleep.
In the morning, we awoke to a sunrise that had a tequila flavor to it. As we emerged from the fog of the night before, we looked at the ocean in front of us. Although we did not know where we were, the beach and ocean were nice. Then, we looked to the east and saw high hills above us. We spotted what looked like a castle. A castle? What would a castle be doing in a place like this? We concluded it was a mirage – a temporary apparition spirited from the tequila the night before. As it turned out, it was a castle – the Hearst Castle.
Years later I decided to take my mother to see the Hearst Castle. I had neglected, however, to consider the steep heights involved in driving down Highway 1. My mother was fearful of heights. She grew frightened. My dog was also upset. My mother demanded we turn around. I said we were more than halfway to San Simeon. We needed to continue ahead.
When we arrived at San Simeon we went to our hotel. After completing the check-in, I realized my mother had disappeared. I searched the lobby. She was not there. I noticed there was a lounge. She was sitting on a stool at the bar. Although she rarely drank, she exclaimed that she was a “nervous wreck” and needed a drink to stabilize her nerves. I confided in her that I was also afraid on the drive and ordered a drink for myself. My dog remained in the car, but sensed he could use a bourbon.
As decades passed, San Simeon continued to attract me for visits. The character of the area provided harmony and tranquility. Book reading while there seemed more harmonious as well. On this trip a tribe of books accompanied me. They were for use as I prepare to deliver upcoming lectures at Long Island University. Afternoons found me on a patio at the Hearst Winery. With cabernet as a companion, I read and wrote. The location birthed this article.
As I wrote, I reflected. As I did, I looked at the beach below. Waves waved memories to me, and the ocean provided humility about the experiences that our lives contain. To the left I looked at a place on the beach in front of a pier built around 1878. A century ago, it provided docking for the construction of the Hearst Castle. It is where we slept on the beach in 1967. As referenced, we did not know where we were then or where life would lead us. Now, in 2024, I know where I was and know where my life traveled. Once more, I have docked in Castro Valley. Our hamlet is my home again. It provides contentment. Age and appreciation matured my home in Castro Valley into a castle of feelings and memories. Gratitude governs reflections, and what I write to you on another good day in San Simeon.