Tim and I are always up for a good adventure.
We love discovery, the outdoors, big spaces, feeling really far away, just us two.
With opposite work schedules and lots of engagements marked down on our calendars, it's sometimes impossible for us to commit to full, out-of-town vacations, but, we still love to take the opportunity to leave on the weekends, or whenever we can, to escape the routine of every day, and to explore the territory of our California backyard.
Ever since we moved to California, I’ve really been enjoying the experience of rediscovering Santa Barbara, my hometown, and the greater county, through Tim's eyes. I love to watch him light up when I take him to places that I used to go as a kid. Places that he’s never been before like Lizard's Mouth, Ballard School or Mattei's Tavern.
Usually spontaneously, we hop in the car, and drive towards the mere suggestion of some destination. Sometimes we end up in the mountains, sometimes in Malibu, other times we head North on the 101 and steer off the freeway in the direction Solvang or San Luis Obispo.
I mostly like to escape to the beach on our adventures. (Isn't that obvious?)
I find the sea to be a place that offers so much fulfillment- visually, mentally, spiritually. Watching waves that roll rhythmically and then spray and hiss on the sand dissolves my anxieties, worries, anger. It's a place that's always the same, nostalgic, familiar and comfortable. And yet, it's always a new place, where exploration can lead to the discovery of fresh views and first-time finds.
It's a place where reflection and contemplation come without challenge.
The salty sea water is revitalizing and healing. Swimming in seawater can help increase your immune system function, improve circulation, promote overall well-being and hydrate your skin.
And after a day at the beach a hot shower washes away all the sand, but not the feeling of the sea in your hair, on your skin, soaked up into your spirit.
It’s delicious and sensual feeling.
And isn’t being close to the beach why I insisted we move to Santa Barbara in the first place?
So, a few weeks ago, in January, I suggested that we take a short day trip up the coast to Jalama Beach County Park. Although it had been on my "to-visit" list since forever, I had never been before, and of course, neither had Tim. Located about 45 minutes south of Lompoc and wedged between the privately owned Bixby Cattle Ranch to the south and east, and Vandenberg Air Force Base to the north, the land now known as Jalama Beach County Park was once a Chumash Indian settlement named "Halama". Then, in 1943, the Atlantic Richfield Company (ARCO), donated 23.5 acres of the land to the County of Santa Barbara and ever since the beach has been a popular destination for surfers, windsurfers, beachcombers, bird watchers, fans of wildlife and families who like adventuresome camping without severing all ties to civilization (AKA me).
To get there from Santa Barbara, Tim and I pointed our Pilot in the direction of north and drove up the 101 freeway on a narrow strip of road that that hugs close to the coast. The January day was mildly misty, but blue nonetheless.
I like to drive north up the 101. The hills are golden and green. Cows graze in sweeping pastures of big ranches that overlook the Pacific and the folds of the foothills echo with sounds of coyote howls and whistle blows from Amtrack trains. I love that the freeway is lined with palms and eucalyptus and in Goleta you pass by whole orchards of avocado trees.
After about 30 miles on the road, Tim veered the car off the freeway at the exit for Highway 1 towards Lompoc/Vandenberg Air Force Base and we continued on for about 13 miles until we came to Jalama Road. From here, Jalama road unfolds for about another 14 miles, winding it's way through the Santa Ynez Mountains. The drive passes by old hillside ranches, abandoned, haunted-looking barns and stretches of dense oak forest.
Look out for animals along the way to the beach, too. The road to Jalama is buzzing widlife and I kept my eyes open for all the creatures known to live in the area like brown bears, vultures, hawks, deer, mountain lions, quail, blue jays, wild hogs, and bobcats.
Naturally, I didn't get to see a bobcat, or even a deer, but I did get to see some pretty ranch ponies and still, even more cows.
In the summertime, I wish you'd take your time and drive slowly, not only to enjoy the view, but because many animals that come out from hibernation after a long winter, like rattlesnakes and tarantulas, like to lay in the middle of the road to soak up the heat that radiates up from the pavement baking in the sun. Often times they get ran over by drivers in cars going too fast in a rush to the beach.
Before 14 miles reaches it's end at the park's entrance, the twisty road peaks at the top of a tall hill that overlooks the beach down below. It leads you along the edge of some steep sea cliffs that have been gnawed at by ages of perpetual crashing waves at high tide and forceful winds that sail off the sea with strength.
The view is sweeping and infinite and I can see why Jalama is commonly referred to as a place at "the edge of the world". You can see mountains and valleys and the very distant edge of the ocean, all in one 360.
You have arrived.
Jalama is county beach, so a there's an entrance fee to enter the park. It's minimal, however, and the fees go towards maintenance and improvements of the park, including keeping it clean and keeping wildlife protected. A ranger working the kiosk at the entrance collects $10.00 for the day, and extra if you bring your dog, which I really wish you wouldn't, because really I hate your dog.
You can also camp at Jalama. Set up your tent on the sand and fall asleep to a lullaby of crashing waves and winds blowing off the water. Reservations can be made online for tent sites, hookups and cabins, all of which include spectacular views of the ocean and beach. Group camping rates are also offered if you're planning trip with lots of people.
I suggest planning ahead and making reservations in advance because although the Jalama is remote, it's increasingly becoming a popular camping destination, thanks to raving write-up's featured in Sunset Magazine and other travel periodicals, and it's not unheard of for the campground to fill up. If you're able to get organized and plan ahead, all sites can be reserved up to six months in advance of the check-in date.
Tim and I didn’t come to camp. We had come only for the day, though we’d like to camp sometime soon. Maybe we'll come back in the summer when the water is warmer and the sun sets later. We could spend a few days sunbathing and swimming, splashing around in the pools, and then we could sleep in our bathing suits in sleeping bags spread out on the sand.
However, that's another trip for another time, and I digress.
In January, Jalama was packed.
People are wising up to the perks of winter in California.
To distance ourselves from the crowds, Tim and I headed south, on a long walk away from all the people. At certain times of the day, when the tide is low enough, I learned that you can actually walk south along the beach for 7 miles- all the way to Point Conception.
We didn't walk that far when we went, but the day was exactly what we needed.
Warm and windy. Clear and clean.
Deep breaths of fresh ocean air.
The tidal pools at Jalama were simply spectacular to explore. Some of the best I’ve seen in all the years that I’ve been tide-pooling at beaches all over Santa Barbara County and we were lucky to find some seriously special sea creatures in the pools.
Of course there were the usual suspects. Mussels and barnacles and little shrimps. There were sea anemones colored every shade of fluorescent blue and green and purple. We saw little crabs and a few big ones, too.
It's best to walk down the beach and away from the crowds for fuller pools of sea life.
Tim and I walked, walked, walked, still further away from the crowds at the campgrounds, meanwhile carefully combing the pools and the sand for little treasures.
Early on in our survey of the pools, I was excited to spot a purple starfish, tucked away in a quiet crevice of some shallow bath. I couldn't remember ever finding one in Santa Barbara before. I pointed it out to Tim in amusement and we so gently rubbed our fingers on it's spiny outside to say hello.
Further down the beach, I found a chiton feasting on some cluster of kelp.
Do you know what a chiton is?
Neither did I. About ten inches long, slimy and hard on the outside and with a rubbery feeling foot on the bottom, I thought it might be a sea cucumber. As it turns out, a chiton is not actually a sea cucumber at all, but a mollusk with a broad foot, like a limpet. Unlike a limpet, however, a chiton has no tentacles or eyes, just a mouth with a tongue-like organ. Together, we posed for a quick picture, and then I carefully set him back down to enjoy his lunch of seaweed salad.
A Spanish Shawl nudibranch, or, a special species of sea slug, was by far my favorite tide-pool find of the day. The slugs are small (the one I found was maybe only an inch-and-a-half long) but so vibrantly pigmented that for a moment, I actually thought it was fake. Nudibranchs display the most stunning set of colors: the bodies are a rich purple, the cerata are orange (cerata are part of a nudibranch’s respiratory system and are sometimes referred to as gills), and the antennae are a deep ruby red.
The wildly spectacular colors that occur in nature never cease to amaze me. Pinks in the clouds at sunset, deep reds in roses, iridescence in bird feathers and fish scales.
I could have walked forever at Jalama that day, or, at least until the beach ends at Point Conception, noticing the pools and admiring the view. But the sun was starting to dip low in the sky, the early dim the day's only reminder of the winter season, and reluctantly we decided to turn around and head back.
I liked Jalama for the wide, flat sand shore, the clear water dotted with little surfer girls and boys and the marine layer mist that painted the scene like an impressionist landscape. I liked it for the whales, dolphins and sea lions surfacing just offshore, close enough to spot without binoculars and for all the amazing shells that I collected on the beach.
Back at the car, the smell of roasting meats on spits over charcoal campfires reminded me that I had wanted to get a burger from the on-site Jalama Beach Grill- a spot that's known for making the best. At the entrance of the beach store, a hand-painted sign proudly boasts “home of the famous Jalama Burger” and here’s what you can expect: A 1/3 lb. lean grilled ground beef patty stacked with shredded lettuce, sliced red onion, tomato and pickles – topped with secret sauce – on a grilled bun. Add cheese if you want, jalapenos if you choose, fries if you must.
Perhaps you can imagine my disappointment on my face when I discovered that I was just a couple minutes too late and when I reached the store at the end of the parking lot at 4:40, they had already closed for the night. (Jalama Beach Grill is generally open 8 am to 6:30 pm in the summer and from 8 am to 4:30 pm fall through spring). Dammit!
A little bit hungry, but still a lot a bit happy for a full day spent together at the sea, Tim and I pulled away at dusk and into the night, the sky glowing red behind us with the signature brilliance of a California sunset in winter.
If only so I can get a chance to get a bite of that burger, we’ll surely take another trip to Jalama sometime soon.
But I'm pretty hungry, so, I just don't know if it will be soon enough.
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