After a family-filled Thanksgiving, I set off on a drive of scenic solitude along the Big Sur coastline, with the Carmel Pinecone's list of open houses on the passenger seat. Being a Lookiloo, it's still hard to admit that even on the most beautiful stretch of roadway in the world, I'm still looking at the houses peaking through the Monterey Cypress.
My destination was a 1950 house, the ad said, on a "low promontory just feet from the rocky shoreline." Along the way, I'd catch glimpses of grand modern architecture.
But I had a feeling this wouldn't be so grand, and therefore it was more appealing to me. Indeed, as I took a sharp right turn off the highway and down a graceful driveway, I came upon little more than a shack _ maybe 1,000 square feet. The front door takes you into the galley kitchen with linoleum counters, then opens up into the living room with windows straight across. No matter how small, there was no withholding the view.
Looking out the picture windows, I felt as though I were watching a movie on the big screen of waves crashing into giant rocks and reefs. The house appeared to be untouched since the day it was built, only tempest tossed. But realtor John Saar of John Saar Properties told me an artist had lived here with her husband until they died. She had set up her easel in the north-facing bedroom/studio with tall vertical windows, the kind you might see in an old Paris loft. The metal casings were all corroded by the salt.
This place was meant for an artist, or a writer — someone who appreciated the beauty and loneliness of the place. Someone who didn't have to tear it down and put up another modern mansion.
But I don't know any writers or artists who could afford it. They're asking $5.8 million for the views. Someone who has that kind of money wouldn't appreciate this little old place. So it will be torn down. It's a shame really. Because it's perfect.
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