Big Sur is already so synonymous with beauty, Jack Kerouac, and Henry Miller, that it seems redundant to come up with new ways to describe the landscape and its latent (and not so latent) effects on our culture. The conflict of the geologically confused oceanside cliffs – a mix of granite, sandstone, limestone, marbles, schists, and more – and the gentle florae of orchids, coastal pines, and rolling chaparral, has entranced travelers for decades. But Big Sur was a remote stretch of wilderness as recently as the 1920s, a solid 70 years after the gold rush had prospectors poring into Northern and Central California.

This little jut of seaside was so difficult to navigate that there were only two lucky families who settled the area prior to the ’20s. It wouldn’t see significant traffic until Highway 1 opened in 1937. The iconic roadway – constructed with local laborers, like John Steinbeck, and prisoners from San Quentin – opened access to Big Sur. Though people moved in right away, a fierce protectionist mentality of the remarkable scenery ensured that development would be contained to some degree.

Real estate prices today are prohibitive for all but the financial elite who’d like a private cabin in Big Sur. Luckily, a few lodges sprouted up in the 1950s that have retained that mid-century sentimentality with the contemporary updates of eco-friendly soaps and wi-fi. The Big Sur Cabin, at Glen Oaks, is one of these. With matching outdoor tubs, tastefully wood-paneled everything, and a location snuggled into the redwoods next to the river, it feels like a private escape. You may not write the next great American novel from the covered, river rock stoop, but the views will certainly lull you into feeling like you could.

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To rent the Big Sur Cabin, contact Glen Oaks at glenoaksbigsur.com.

Photos courtesy Glen Oaks Big Sur

Weekend Cabin isn’t necessarily about the weekend, or cabins. It’s about the longing for a sense of place, for shelter set in a landscape…for something that speaks to refuge and distance from the everyday. Nostalgic and wistful, it’s about how people create structure in ways to consider the earth and sky and their place in them. It’s not concerned with ownership or real estate, but what people build to fulfill their dreams of escape. The very time-shortened notion of “weekend” reminds that it’s a temporary respite.