At times I wished the beating midday sun would sequester itself; fold into early evening perhaps, and salute the cooler breeze hiding in those 5 o’clock hours to come forth. The rock under my fingertips sloped into the towering wall, then seemed to jut out towards the other side of Quarry Trail, making the overhanging moves to come appear more intense.
I was climbing a route called “Brown Smoothies,” located on the outcrop known to climbers on Mountain Project –– the digital guidebook that houses information about routes all over the world –– as El Dorado. It was one of the many outcrops that can be found scattered along Morro Bay State Park’s Cerro Cabrillo, composed of Dacite, an igneous rock that is of volcanic origin. Exhaustion ran through my body but I knew I could continue upwards. Shaking one hand out, then the next, I craned my neck to the sky and breathed in any parcel of coastal air I could get.
I caught a glimpse of the estuary’s expanse. What the view ignited in me was the same fire I’ve been lucky enough to embody when scaling bigger walls in Yosemite Valley or high boulders in the Eastern Sierra. Cerro Cabrillo’s views, like others I’ve found myself awe-struck by, felt greater when my body was clinging to a rock face, in smooth agreement with the landscape.
I continued on, clipping the next bolt. Shifting my weight to my high right foot, I squeezed a sidepull hold and rocked over onto the foothold. With seemingly every muscle engaged, I reached for a small, in-cut pocket in the rock, where two fingers could fit. A few moves up and I found myself on easier holds, approaching the bulging top-out section. Fatigue is usually the onset of fear, though I knew my friend Heidi, who was belaying me, had me tight. I also felt eased by the presence of the surrounding landscape, and through the strenuous moves, found myself enveloped in the fusion of mind and body, lulling my brain into rhythms of the rock.
I pulled over the lip and clipped safely into the anchors at the top, which were installed in summer of 2015 by climbers dedicated to making the route more accessible and safe. It’s recorded that Tim Medina made the first ascent of the route in 1990, and as I sat back in my harness and lowered to the ground, I marveled at how many fingers had gripped these holds since.
It was 1 p.m.
An hour earlier, Heidi and I drove north on Highway 1, then exited on South Bay Boulevard until we hit into the dirt lot where hikers, explorers and climbers coalesce.
The clanging of metal could be heard as we packed our bags full of gear, and with a rope strewn over my back, hiked along the Quarry Trail. Coastal sage scrub and chaparral plants lined the path. We quickly admired the minuscule pops of yellow of the Deerweed bush, as well as California buckwheat, Buckbrush and the needle-leaved Chamise. Swaths of poison oak quickly jolted us from our subconscious stroll back to the present moment. The plant felt like a tell-tale sign that nature has its own plans and we’re merely visitors. I’m met with a similar reminder up on the wall, for the rock is an unforgiving force and we as climbers must recognize our place within the landscapes we travel to.
Cerro Cabrillo, one of the Nine Sisters –– the chain of volcanic mountains of San Luis Obispo County that also includes Bishop Peak, Morro Rock, Black Hill, Hollister Peak, Cerro Romauldo and Chumash Peak –– sits nestled between Montaña De Oro and Morro Bay. These peaks are remnants of ancient volcanoes that erupted around 20 million years ago. Just inland of Black Hill and the El Moro Elfin Forest Preserve, hikers and wanderers of Cabrillo are afforded the views of Hollister and Cerro Romauldo, as well as the Morro Bay Estuary and sandspit.
Farther beyond the routes on El Dorado along Quarry Trail sits a rock formation resembling that of a Polynesian Tiki carving. Hikers pass it to reach Cabrillo Peak, sitting at 911 feet in elevation. Coined as Tiki Rock by some, and Old Stone Face to climbers on Mountain Project, the formation has always appeared to me stoic and all-knowing. It calls forth the recognition of the local Chumash and Salinan tribes that for more than 10,000 years have inhabited these landscapes and rolling hills.
As the hours went by under the beating sun, our clothes, swathed in chalk, clung to our sweaty skin.
With just a handful of silver bolts displaying a partial line up the rockface we were climbing, it was of our discretion to follow this path up tiny-edged crimps and protruding sloper holds, using prior knowledge as a guide and the immediacy of the looming drop as a kick to get ourselves clipped to the next piece of protection.
Though what avails any confusion on the rock is always the body’s senses and learned movements (the ever-so-slight shift of weight from one foot to the other, the habit of keeping straight arms to conserve energy, the awareness of one’s center of gravity and the trust when one steps out of that balance to move to the next unassuming hold). It’s always after stepping off the ground and scaling upwards towards something the mind can’t comprehend, that climbers are met with a sense of serene calm; the rock under our calloused fingertips open up to our small forms and we exist in a synchronous fashion.
I rock climb for myself, so I can work towards a greater goal, lose myself in strength training and connect with the astounding community of climbers in San Luis Obispo. But looking more deeply, I climb as it taps into a new form of connection with a towering wall or sprawling landscape, like Morro Bay State Park’s Cerro Cabrillo. The feeling of being indescribably small and insignificant makes me feel larger than life, and I return to the rock worshiping its existence and space in our community.
To get more information about rock climbing at Cabrillo Peak, you can visit Mountain Project and see a breakdown of established routes here. To enjoy the scenic hills and sprawling ocean landscape by foot, you can plan your hike up Cerro Cabrillo via Quarry Trail and get more information from AllTrails here and the Morro Bay State Park here.
