Michael H.
Yelp
Rustic charm meets shabby inconvenience. It is impossible to assess Deetjen's apart from greater Big Sur. Both enjoy reputations sprinkled with superlatives such as, "breathtaking," "unforgettable," and, "steeped in history." I've made only a single visit but one fact strikes me as obvious: both the area and the inn have suffered from an unrelenting onslaught of humanity whose collective appetite now far surpasses what either can offer in a meaningful way. Climate change pummels the trees, trails and hills with storms and fires, along with erosion and toxic CO2. Ready accessibility to the inn and the region by the masses, not possible a hundred years ago, presents challenges that the inn's infrastructure and staff can no longer gracefully accommodate. Demand is high, supply low, so the prices are through the roof. Travelers who, like us, are looking to encounter natural history in a meaningful way, will find most of those treasures off limits behind roped off trails. The only hiking is within the confines of state parks. A fellow doing construction at Deetjen's filled me in: much of Big Sur exists upon lands owned by five or so billionaires who are not about to allow the likes of me to go traipsing upon it. I can admire from a distance. Deetjen's strives to retain its rustic charm by offering drafty, dark, cramped rooms, furnished with worn out furniture, behind doors impossible to lock. Lack of locks bothers me very little, but the inn's refusal to provide internet is an inconvenience to the naive traveler who is trying to suss out available options.
We arrived at the inn, delayed by a closure of the coastal road south of Big Sur, the result of recent , heavy rains. So, we were forced to travel a circuitous route to the east, leading north of Big Sur, then turning back south to get there. The night was dark, rainy, and foggy. As we came down serpentine Route 1. The woman who met us harbors a certain eccentricity that does not reflect welcoming warmth. She directed us to Al Fiasco, or some such name, which was our domicile for the next three days. As the saying goes regarding the weather, "It only rained twice, once for one day and once for two days. It immediately became obvious that parking at Deetjen's is a mess - not unlike the game where you try to arrange tiles in a square by sliding one, and then another, into the only open spot. Docey-dohing of automobiles was a three day square dance. We lugged our suitcases up wooden steps, ducking under a tree trunk en route, opened our door to enter, but were beaten out by a little black cat who scurried in ahead of us and took up residence for our entire stay. This, we were to learn, was Pewee. She soon invited her mother, a tortie named Chester, to join as well. Both were happy to be out of the rain. After our long journey we availed ourselves of the restaurant where we encountered a very friendly waitress and a scrumptious meal, to the tune of $200+. Bring your credit card to Deetjen's if you're going to avail yourself of the restaurant. We managed to get in a rain-soaked hike each day then retired to our drafty room, which could never be brought up to a temperature that one could describe as "comfortable." Jen paid a visit to the off-putting receceptionist, inquiring if any games were available to help pass a waterlogged afternoon. She hurriedly answered, "Of course!" In a tone that implied that any idiot should know there would be, then declared that she had to go "feed the kittens" and departed. Jen returned to our room toting a Scrabble game with a third of the letters missing, but which included a helpful piece of cardboard out of which replacements could be cut and labeled. And so we passed a cold, damp afternoon, draped in blankets, huddled over a Scrabble board, along with two, purring, lap-warming cats. Not entirely unpleasant, but slightly depressing to know that each day we were paying over $300 for the privilege. Make up your own mind.
