www.montereycountynow.com May 30-june 5, 2024 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY 17 The convoy system means “town” to the north is still accessible, but at a minimum, it’s an inconvenience. The sign at the Big Sur Deli indicates it opens at 7am, but the convoy schedule makes that impossible. That doesn’t stop a gaggle of construction workers from gathering out front around 7:40am, waiting for the door to open. When it does, around 7:55am as a man arrives to unload boxes of pastries acquired in town, the group rushes in while coffee is still brewing. Mario Busch is waiting for coffee, then to meet a crew in the parking lot to go work on building a stone wall for a private home. Busch, who has lived in Big Sur since 1988, has seen his share of Highway 1 closures. In construction, it makes it difficult to get supplies, but it’s not the worst thing. “I’ve got plenty of work,” he says. And besides, he’s seen this pattern play out before. The roads are overrun with crowds, and also lined with litter. “It might be a good thing for Big Sur, keeping people out a little bit,” he says. “Big Sur cleans itself up a little bit.” Then he pauses and notes: “It’s hard for the hospitality industry.” Hospitality is the primary industry here, and it exists only because of Highway 1, the single paved artery that leads to and from Big Sur. But the steady stream of tourists brings with it a host of challenges— traffic, trash, crowds. When Highway 1 is closed, life in Big Sur is different. Slower, uncrowded. Locals say they see more wildlife up close. They hear more birds. They bike on Highway 1, which takes on the feeling of a quaint country road, not a major international destination traveled by millions of vehicles per year. The full or partial closure of the highway to visitors means construction crews are busy, but on the other side of the closure, life pauses. There have been many Highway 1 closures, and there will be many more. Each one is its own unique disaster— people need to figure out how to get supplies, based on what level of access they will have to the outside world— but then comes a moment to pause. “The idea that Big Sur is cleansing, it is a literal word, not just a figure of speech,” says Martha Diehl, a Monterey County planning commissioner and chair of the Big Sur Byway Organization. When the road is open, Diehl cleans up human waste almost daily. When the tourism pressure lifts, there’s a chance to plan for how to manage the return of millions of visitors, Diehl says. “People are saying: We are not dealing with the press of everyday emergency, so we can fuel up to deal with the incoming emergency, which appears to be the only way to keep our economy going.” That paradox—of an economy reliant upon tourists, but an infrastructure that is not set up to support the volume—is just one of many underlying Highway 1 in Big Sur. The peacefulness that comes during a closure presents its own paradox. There’s no work, but the workforce gets a moment to enjoy Big Sur in a different way. Kendra Morgenrath manages human resources at Nepenthe, meaning her job this season included laying off about 100 employees. But Morgenrath has also been enjoying the relative peace. She trained for the Big Sur International Marathon Relay by jogging on Highway 1. “I could hear the ocean and sea lions barking,” she says. “I have done hikes where I haven’t run into anyone.” It’s a beautiful Sunday afternoon on May 12, sun streaming through the redwoods at Pfeiffer Big Sur State Park after the fog clears. Normally on a day like this, the campground would be packed. Instead, it’s still. The only sound in the Big Sur River gorge is the running water, and an owl hooting nearby. The short trail to Pfeiffer Falls is empty except for two hikers. Matt Glazer is manager of Deetjen’s, which stayed open for breakfast daily but refunded close to $250,000 worth of room stays between March 30, when a chunk of Highway 1 collapsed at Rocky Creek, and mid-May, even after the convoy system was opened to the public. In the first week, he furloughed or laid off 36 of 42 employees. And yet—Glazer watched the partial solar eclipse from the popular destination Partington Cove, by himself. “I’m reminding myself why I live here,” he says. This story repeats everywhere. Left: Coco, the bar cat at Fernwood, is the only customer on a recent afternoon when restaurant hours and the menu were limited during Highway 1 convoys. Right: Fernwood Manager Diana Ballantyne, shown on the back deck, says there is a community infrastructure to help people during layoffs. “The Big Sur community is resilient and supportive of one another.” Sara Rubin Sara Rubin
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