Weekend in Carmel
As you may recall, Sharon and I headed to Carmel on California’s Central Coast this past weekend to celebrate our 50th wedding anniversary in the same charming inn where we had spent our honeymoon night.
It was our first trip back to the Tickle Pink Inn since that long-ago night on July 5, 1975, and it did not disappoint.
We remembered almost nothing about the inn from a half-century ago. But it was oh-so-wonderful this past weekend. Our room had an ocean view, and when we arrived late Friday afternoon, we encountered one of those oh-so-rare days when you can see forever.
Before we got to the Tickle Pink, we had turned off into the Point Lobos State Natural Reserve between Carmel and the Tickle. To say that the views from the paths we walked were spectacular would understate matters.
Landscape painter Francis McComas called Point Lobos “the greatest meeting of land and water in the world.” That pretty much sums it up.
Of course, we took pictures — and Sharon got a great one (right) of a seagull in flight. The sunny afternoon had brought the temperature to the mid-60’s, and that’s about as good as it gets on the Central Coast in summer.
After Point Lobos, we headed south for a mile to the Tickle Pink cutoff. We had trouble finding it — even with GPS — and that led us to wonder how in the world we had found it on that long-ago summer night after we left our wedding in Fresno and drove to the coast in the darkness of the early Sunday morning.
No GPS back then. No cell phones. Just us, and maybe Triple-A maps (we can’t remember).
We were greeted inside our room at the Tickle this past Friday by a gift package of flowers and Champagne and sparkling cider and truffles.
Outside, an adventuresome seagull perched on our balcony. It was not at all afraid of us, even when we opened the sliding glass door.
We had arrived at the Tickle just in time for the vast late-afternoon snack repast offered at the Cliffside Deck. It was a splendid offering of cheeses and wafers and veggies and wine and soft drinks — all overlooking the indescribable Pacific in an ornate room enclosed in glass with working fireplaces to keep the warmth no matter what the weather or season.
We were exhausted from our trip, so sleep came easily a few hours later. We awoke the next morning — our anniversary date — and went back to the Cliffside Deck, this time for the superb breakfast offerings that got us off to a fine start.
Then it was off to gorgeous Carmel-By-The-Sea.
If you’ve never been to Carmel, let me try to paint the picture.
First: It’s butted right up to the Pacific. It’s incredibly hilly, with lots of trees and gorgeous flowers and charming, individualistic homes and unique small family restaurants.
It’s also the most crowded bit of land in all of California on weekends, as tourists jam — and I mean jam — the narrow neighborhood streets, their cars making it nearly impossible to get around or find parking.
We drove around and around, hoping against hope to find a space — any space — until we lucked into a vehicle pulling out of the place it had just occupied.
That left us with a considerable uphill-and-downhill walk to the neighborhood restaurant Sharon had picked out — the Carmel Belle. By the time we arrived by foot, we were tired and hungry.
And the Carmel Belle revived us. We sat next to one of its fireplaces (fireplaces are used year-round in Carmel, since it’s always chilly), shared a sandwich, and were completely satisfied.
Next stop, we hoped — the beach. But we would have needed to walk 10 blocks downhill to reach it and then those same 10 blocks back uphill just to get back to the restaurant. So we decided not to try to hoof it.
Instead, we strolled back to our car and drove toward the beach, hoping to find a parking spot so Sharon could stick her feet into the sand.
No luck. Cars and more cars took up every potential spot.
So we drove along the beach and then inland, winding up, completely by accident, at the historic Carmel Mission — one of a series of historic structures that play a major role in California history.
The 21 Spanish missions of California were established by the Franciscan order between 1769 and 1823 to evangelize the indigenous populations and expand the Spanish Empire. These religious outposts played a major role in the colonization of California.
They were strategically placed about a day’s journey apart (30 miles or so) along the coast. They are magnificent structures, known for their tile roofs, whitewashed walls, bell towers and arched collonades.
They also are objects of controversy, since many of the Native Americans who worked at the missions were mistreated and died.
Misson Carmel was the second in the chain (after San Diego) founded by the Catholic Priest and missionary Junipero Serra. Father Serra established eight of the 21 Spanish missions from San Diego to San Francisco. He is buried at the Carmel Mission.
We had been to this particular mission years ago, but it was the right time this past Saturday for another visit. So we went in, and it was well worth our time to remind ourselves about California before it became a state.
Then it was back to our car for one last trek through Carmel. The thing you must understand about this gorgeous spot on the map is that you and we can never afford to buy a home there.
Small little shacks — or condos — without a view start at a million bucks. Bigger places — or ones with ocean views — go for $10 million to $20 million or more.
Carmel reminds us a lot of the Hamptons on Long Island outside New York. Great place to live, if you’re rich.
So Sharon and I have never had illusions about living in Carmel. Visiting is hard enough, considering the lack of parking.
But visiting is worth it.
Late Saturday afternoon saw us back at the Tickle for more cheese-and-veggies-and-drinks offerings — all, remember, part of the package deal for staying there
But late Saturday afternoon also brought in the fog, and it was chilly. We sat in front of one of the deck’s fireplaces.
Sunday morning was more of the same — cold and foggy. So after another hearty breakfast — and one last photo from our balcony (left) — it was on the road, back to the Valley.
And along the way — as we had earlier during our trip — we reminisced — or tried to — about our first stay at the Tickle 50 years ago — and about our trip to Hawaii right afterward.
Now, understand, we have absolutely no pictures of our honeymoon. How is that possible, you ask?
Well, as we recall, we failed to take even a Kodak Instamatic along on our trek to the Tickle and then to Hawaii. Instead, we vaguely remember taking a camera that took slides.
That’s right, slides. We were trying to be “oh-so-modern.”
Instead — as we seem to remember — we got the Hawaii slides made and showed them perhaps one time to friends at our Fresno home. You see, showing them required a slide projector, a screen — and people willing to pretend they were not bored when we projected those slides.
Anyway, the slides are long gone, leaving us only with traditional photos of our wedding and none whatsoever of our honeymoon.
We remember our honeymoon stays in Oahu and on Maui. We remember going to a traditional Hawaiian luau; taking a tour of the entire island of Oahu, including Pearl Harbor; and remember my getting one of the worst sunburns of my life on the beach in Oahu.
We recall staying in Maui near Lahaina, the resort area that burned to the ground a while back.
And we remember our eventful flight back to California, which ended in San Francisco. We were supposed to get a connecting flight to Fresno, but for a variety of reasons, we did not. Sharon’s parents had to drive up to the airport in SF to pick us up and get us back home.
So what to make of this past weekend’s trek back into our past in Carmel?
One word: Great.
Going back to where it began — exactly a half-century earlier — was, yes, the trip of our lifetime.
We won’t get to travel that same road again, of course. You only do “50” once.
But we did it. Somehow made it together a half-century, something only about 7 percent of the population ever gets to do.
We are grateful. We are thankful.
We have, of course, no idea how much farther we’ll go.
But it’s been one mighty ride up to now, and anything else beyond this point is gravy.
And being with Sharon all these years — well, that’s simply been magic.