Self-Guided Walking Tour
*Written as a tour of Carmel-by-the-Sea, California for Drives and Detours
Secret Passageways
"Secret" passageways are one of Carmel's many claims to fame. With over 40 passageways and courtyards, we thought we'd suggest a few. As for the others, we challenge you to find and explore them yourself! But if the explorer life isn't for you, a quick Google search will reveal these 'hidden' locations. Pine Inn was renovated in 1941, leading to the creation of the courtyard. It can be accessed via two passageways, one of which you just entered through, and another that can be found near Pine Inn's Ocean Street entrance. In the courtyard, you'll find an antique store, garden-themed dining room, coffee shop, wine room, and much more. We don't want to reveal everything - the fun is in exploring!
Cottage of Sweets
Coming up on your left is the Cottage of Sweets with its red and white striped awning. In 1922, the Cottage of Sweets was constructed on Dolores Street as a weaving shop. In 1923, the building rolled on logs to its new and current location on Ocean Avenue. Edward Kuster facilitated this relocation, hoping to incorporate the Cottage into his Court of the Golden Bough Theater as a ticket booth. 12 years later, in 1935, Kuster's theater caught fire and burned down during a play ironically entitled By Candlelight. Fortunately, Kuster reconstructed his theater. However, in 1949, it burned down again during another performance of By Candlelight. A third iteration of the Golden Bough was built and remains to this day. Maybe this is because they finally stopped performing By Candlelight! In 1959, the Cottage of Sweets opened as the British-style sweets shop we see today. With homemade fudge and various treats, the Cottage accumulated a few accolades. It is repeatedly named the Best Candy Shop in Carmel by locals, and has even made USA Today's List of Top 10 Candy Stores in America! If your sweet tooth permits it, head inside and see if the Cottage of Sweets lives up to its reputation.
Cypress Inn
Coming up on your left, the white building is the Cypress Inn. In 1929, the Cypress Inn's structure was erected due to the collaboration of Dr. Rudolph Kocher and master builder Hugh Comstock. Originally, it was named the Hotel La Ribera. In the 1960s, father and son duo Earl and Frank McInnis took over as owners, renaming the hotel Cypress West. 20 years later, in the 1980s, well-known actress and singer Doris Day took over as co-owner alongside Carmel local Dennis LeVett. The pair introduced Carmel to the Cypress Inn we know today. As an animal lover, Doris made sure that her hotel was dog-friendly. This sentiment persevered, and the Cypress Inn stands strong as Carmel's pet-friendly hotel. Of course, people loved this unique detail, and news of the hotel soon spread nationally. On top of its love of animals, the Cypress Inn offers quality lodging and meals for visitors and their furry friends!
The Tuck Box
Pause here and turn to your right. Built in 1926 by Hugh W. Comstock, the Tuck Box is a Storybook, or Fairytale, Craftsman cottage. With a steep shingled roof, exposed wood framing, and textured stucco, the Tuck Box exemplifies Carmel's Storybook architectural style. Originally, Bonnie Lee used the building as an art shop. One year later, in 1927, the Director of Stanford Museum and Art Galleries Pedro J. Lemos purchased the building and surrounding areas. Lemos wanted to emulate medieval European shops, an idea he likely pulled from the Tuck Box. Today, we see Lemos' vision in downtown Carmel. Now, the Tuck Box houses a classic American-style restaurant.
Carmel Bakery
Just ahead, on your left, look for the Carmel Bakery. Founded in 1899, Carmel Bakery and Coffee is the oldest bakery in California still in its original location. On top of that, it is Carmel's oldest retail business. Fitz Schweiger, the bakery's original owner, lived above his shop for decades. In 1986, the Pèpe family purchased Carmel Bakery from Hector DeSmet and has owned it ever since. Customers rave about the bakery's pretzels, breakfast burritos, cannolis, ice cream, and coffee. Feel free to stop in and try one of their many treats!
Default Settings
The lights never stop blinking. As I open my car door, I am met with the familiar and inviting — yet arguably concerning — red and yellow icons appearing on my dashboard. Some flashing in warning and others glaring unmovingly, the dash lights of my Chevrolet Tahoe are the same colors as my two least favorite traffic signals, thus bearing unfavorable connotations. After almost two complication-free years, the symbols feel as redundant and meaningless as my mother’s hopeless remarks on my less-than-perfect posture. Of my parents, my father and I are far more alike; we both appreciate stand-up comedy and strong coffee. However, in terms of automobiles, he nitpicks what I opt to brush under the protective floor mats. And he really cannot stand my blinking, glowing, multi-color dashboard. Attempting to fix it, he reached into an obscured compartment and retrieved a dust-veiled control panel, alleging that our solution was located on the world’s smallest circuit board.
Indeed, there was an issue with the circuit board, but I glazed right over it. As humans, we possess a default circuit board, a control panel of robotic emotion and pre-programmed reaction. So often, I challenge the default instincts of my wires and switches. Such instincts push me to trudge through my days on autopilot, trapped in a self-centered haze. Such instincts, I relentlessly combat. That is, I have begun the process of rewiring; on the road of life, I choose not to ride shotgun.
Occasionally, I still end up in the passenger seat. My mother always navigates the twists and switchbacks of the mountain roads leading to Camp Mont Shenandoah, an oasis where I’ve unlocked the value of mental presence. One summer, two weeks into my fourth year, I recall sitting in my Wellness class, reclining in my tie-dye Crazy Creek chair. My counselor, Anna, encouraged us to lie back on the dew-sprinkled grass and allow our eyes to close, the inside of our eyelids still glowing from the gentle sun. Once we were settled, sprawled about the green among the dandelions, Anna spoke. Her voice was soothing and constant. She said, “every day, we have a choice. We can live on autopilot, or take control of our lives and decisions.” Her words have come back to me intermittently since then, each time a blinking reminder that irritation and anger and exasperation are optional. Anna’s prose was a tool, keeping me upright as I teetered on the precipice of default emotion.
I’ve continued to add to my toolbox. I write poems. I walk miles on end. I meditate on the free trial of my Calm app and I blog (unbeknownst to my friends). At camp, guided by Anna’s advice, I stopped waiting robotically for the battery-powered clock to indicate dinner-time. Instead, I soaked in every second of everything. Standing in line for fried chicken, my head steeped in dehydration and contentment, I realized six weeks was a time far too ephemeral to count down.
So, I stopped counting. Thanks to my toolbox, the switches I’d never thought to flip and wires I’d never thought to tug have shifted my default setting further and further from autopilot. It's odd to be back in control, yet easier to suppress my automatic reaction to slouch upon my mother’s comments on my posture. But, here I am: back in the driver’s seat, with countless six-week sets reflected in my rearview mirror. Some of which I hardly recall; I was speeding by too quickly.
Abiding by the flickering red and yellow lights of my dashboard, colors I no longer despise, I have promised myself to stop and slow down; if not, I risk racing past, blinded by the default settings of my circuit board. I am not the only one on the road. I am in stand-still, bumper-to-bumper traffic with every other person in this life, and relying on autopilot is nothing short of fatal.
Lodge
Lodge. A sojourn nestled in the mountains. A warm embrace invites me inside, enveloping me in a pine-tinged smoke that mingles and melds with the outside chill. The crackle of a fire tucked away in a stone fireplace encourages content, hot-chocolate-aided conversation. Bits and pieces of dialogue float across the hardwood tables and worn leather chairs as I step inside, my legs sore from the infamously awkward ski-boot stride. Every time my mind wanders, I find it returns here, eager to rest in all its pure pleasure.
It seems my time in the mountains is bookended by lodges, but not only those blanketed in white. Each morning at summer camp, we congregate in West Lodge, with its high ceilings and mismatched benches. I perch on my seat, rooted between cabinmates. My head falls backward as I scan the familiar names hanging on the wall — cheerful conversations hum in the background. Each name is a camper, perhaps one who sat on this same bench. Like the generations of girls before me, I cherish the hours spent here. Whether it be to watch the musical, compete in the acclaimed “Song Fest,'' or just rest, I will always appreciate the four walls of the lodge.
These walls surround a simple togetherness - the joining of friends through their efforts on the slopes or the upcoming camp dance. A lodge, although a seasonal luxury, remains a residual comfort year-round. I dream of my returns to the mountains, to the lodge, and its familiarity.
Excerpt from Newsletter
* This is an excerpt from Camp Mont Shenandoah’s weekly Newsletter
Camp Mont Shenandoah’s 97th camping season is off to an exciting start. After a week of pre-camp, campers' arrivals provided an appreciated pace change. Don’t get me wrong, I have a special place in my heart for orientation week, but there can only be so many hypotheticals before you start to get antsy for the real thing.
Opening Day brought a much-needed break from the rain – or so we thought. It seems the weather was playing jokes on us, as a raincloud conveniently eclipsed the sun just in time to transport trunks. However, despite the less-than-ideal conditions, campers were no less excited. As counselors, their enthusiasm provided us with newfound energy of our own.
After a classic round of Buds and Blooms – complete with games like Sister Sister and (unusually competitive) Crows and Cranes – the day ended with our Opening Campfire. The JCs debuted their newest single, the CITs produced their version of Scooby Doo, and the counselors introduced their activities through painstakingly created skits and songs. Some examples include: a reenactment of the Hunger Games reaping ceremony, a new and improved version of Radioactive by Imagine Dragons, and a skit to introduce this year’s musical: Toy Story. During counselor introductions, Alexandra Casey was swept up in the Richmond to CMS pipeline and accidentally revealed her hometown to be Richmond, Virginia. She is, in fact, from Norfolk. We will keep you updated on where she decides to live during Parent’s Weekend.
Gradually, a new routine became comfortable. Counselors began Sunday with Church, offering advice to their new cabins. Campers created new connections, began the friendship bracelet-making process, and started to plan their cabin skits. Said skits provided a night of laughter and inevitable confusion, bringing cabins closer together. On Monday, classes began! Campers and counselors alike eagerly followed their schedules, checking and double-checking that it was, in fact, a Day One. That night brought Initiation, where new campers and counselors were welcomed into the “sisterhood of Camp Mont Shenandoah.”
With Tuesday came Team Night, where campers donned their favorite colors and cheered their hearts out. Their energy and love were palpable, welcoming first-year campers to their new teams with open arms. After the election of team leaders, the night ended with the teams singing to each other across West Lodge, punctuated by the soft sounds of counselors arguing over the size of Final Banquet (FB) murals. Each year, Team Night seems to set the tone for the coming days, and sometimes even the whole summer. These first few days have brought excitement for the weeks to come.