This is a reminder that your input is needed! The CHMP survey will close at the end of June. Please see below for a message from Caltrans regarding the Coast Highway Management Plan (CHMP) update and how you can participate in the process. The CHMP, developed by Caltrans and the Federal Highway Administration, is essentially the playbook for how Highway 1 is maintained and managed in Big Sur, addressing issues like safety, landslides, erosion, and protecting the area’s unique landscape while aligning with local plans like the Big Sur Land Use Plan. This update is especially important for residents and commuters along Highway 1. Caltrans is actively seeking community input through a survey. Your feedback will help shape how this critical corridor is managed for years to come.

Take the Survey Here

Summer Solstice June 21, 2023 AFP VIA GETTY IMAGES

Yesterday, Tuesday June 16, 2026, I had the pleasure of being a passenger down the Coast from Rio Rd to Pacific Valley with my friend Rose Welch. It was a beautiful day for a drive (if one could be patient and extremely aware of the idiots and other out-of-towners on the road.) It was nuts at all the usual places and some of the not-so-usual places. McWay Falls apparently hasn’t had anty police presence in the form of State Park Rangers in a bit as it was back to its pre-patrol craziness. (Sorry, I was helping to keep an eye out for Rose and too busy to take photos.) Bixby was slow going as usual, but at 3:30 in the afternoon there was a CHP presence who was out talking to people and issuing tickets. (Thanks to Morgan Lee-Airello for these photos-CHP officer is behind a car on the west side talkling/giving out tickers)

Thank you, CHP and Morgan.

In honor of a certain birthday today taken one year ago, I offer:

From NOAA and the National Weather Service

. Collectively, the coupled ocean-atmosphere system reflected the onset of El Niño conditions.

The North American Multi-Model Ensemble (NMME) average, including the NCEP CFSv2 [Fig. 6], forecasts El Niño to intensify into the Northern Hemisphere winter 2026-27. High confidence in El Niño [Fig. 7] is also linked to anomalously high oceanic heat content and expanding westerly wind anomalies across the equatorial Pacific Ocean. There is a 63% chance of a very strong El Niño during November-January [Fig. 8] that would rank among the largest El Niño events in the historical record going back to 1950. Even very strong El Niño events do not lead to the expected impact everywhere, but stronger events can more significantly tilt the odds in favor of expected outcomes (see CPC outlooks for probabilities of seasonal anomalies). In summary, El Niño conditions are present and expected to strengthen into the Northern Hemisphere winter 2026-27.

From Daniel Swain of Weather West:

“As we emerge from the so-called Spring Predictability Barrier, multi-model ensemble predictions have become even more aggressive and are now explicitly predicting an El Niño of very strong, and quite possibly record-breaking, magnitude by autumn or early winter. In fact, the just-released multi-model “superensemble” predictions for June are nothing short of remarkable, with the median forecast from every single international model ensemble depicting at least a “strong” event, and the majority indicating a top-tier, very strong-to-historic event. This is true using both the traditional and the newer “relative” El Niño index (or “RONI,” which is designed to more accurately reflect El Niño magnitude in a warming climate by removing ocean temperature differences arising from long-term trends). And the latest official forecast update from NOAA is consistent with these model predictions: It not only confirms that, as of June, El Niño is already underway, but also indicates nearly 90% odds of an event reaching at least “strong” intensity and over 60% odds of a “very strong” event.”

This was taken after the last rains.

Date:        June 5, 2026 

District:     05 – Santa Barbara, San Luis Obispo, Monterey, San Benito, and Santa Cruz Counties 

Contact:    Nathalie Gomez, (TAMC)  

Phone:      (831) 775-4408                                                                                                   

FOR IMMEDIATE RELEASE 

Road and Lane Closures Scheduled for June 7 – June 13, 2026  

NEWEST INFORMATION IS IN THE BOLD BLACK TEXT  

MONTEREY COUNTY – Here are the majorscheduled road and lane closures for Monterey County from Sunday, June 7, through Saturday, June 13 – newest information is in bold text.Please keep in mind that construction work is weather-dependent.

Highway 1: 1 Mile North of Point Sur Lighthouse – Point Sur Lighthouse: Long Term

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1, beginning one mile north of the Point Sur Lighthouse and ending at the Point Sur Lighthouse for temporary signal slide work. Travelers may encounter a 15-minute delay.

Highway 1: Postmile 53.30 – Postmile 54.3: April – July

One-way traffic controls will be in place along southbound Highway 1 between Postmile 53.3 and Postmile 54.3 for slide and temporary signal work.

Highway 1: Fremont Blvd/California Avenue: June 6 – July 5

There will be full closure of the on ramp along southbound Highway 1 at Fremont Boulevard and California Avenue for roadway excavation work from 12 am to 12 pm.

Highway 1: San Luis Obispo County Line – Pfeiffer Canyon Bridge: June 8 – June 12

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between San Luis Obispo County Line and Pfeiffer Canyon Bridge for sign work from 7 am to 6 pm. Travelers may encounter a 10-minute delay.

Highway 1: Little Sur River Bridge – Hurricane Point: June 9

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Little Sur River Bridge and Hurricane Point for emergency work from 10 am to 3 pm.

Highway 1: Rocky Creek Bridge – Rocky Creek Viaduct: May 29 – August 31

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Rocky Creek Bridge and Rocky Creek Viaduct for bridge work from 8 pm to 6 am.

Highway 1: Ventana Entrance – Nepenthe (North Entrance): June 8 – June 12

Alternating one-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Ventana Entrance and Nepenthe (North Entrance) for electrical work from 7 am to 5 pm.

Highway 1: Lower Walden Road – Fern Canyon/Corona Road: June 8 – June 10

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Lower Walden Road and FernCanyon/Corona Road for tree work from 9 am to 3 pm. Travelers may encounter a 5-minute delay.

Highway 1: Willow Spring-CT Maintenance Station – Los Burros Road: June 9

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Willow Springs-CT Maintenance Station and Los Burros Road for pavement repair from 7:30 am to 3:15 pm. Travelers may encounter a 15-minute delay.

Highway 1: Lime Creek Bridge – Dolan Creek Bridge: June 9

There will be one lane, bike lane, and right shoulder closure along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Lime Creek Bridge and Dolan Creek Bridge for utility work from 8 am to 3 pm. Travelers may encounter a 10-minute delay.

Highway 1: 1 Mile South of Limekiln Creek – South end of Limekiln Creek Bridge: June 10

One-way traffic controls will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between 1 mile south of Limekiln Creek and the south end of Limekiln Creek Bridge for shoulder work from 8:15 am to 3:15 pm. Travelers may encounter a 15-minute delay.

Highway 1: Mud Creek – Gorda: June 11

One-way traffic control will be in place along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Mud Creek and Gorda for pavement work from 8:15 am to 3:15 pm. Travelers may encounter a 15-minute delay.

Highway 1: Palo Colorado – Garrapata Ridge Road: June 11

There will be one lane, bike lane and right shoulder closure along northbound and southbound Highway 1 between Palo Colorado and Garrapata Ridge Road for utility work from 8 am to 3 pm. Travelers may encounter a 5-minute delay.

No campfires outside of designated campsites and day use areas listed in Appendix A below:

Matt Moberg

I think every human being 

eventually has a moment

where they are standing outside in sweatpants

that have lost the will to be pants,

holding a trash bag, a divorce, a parking ticket,

or some other receipt from the universe

that says, “surprise, this too is part of it.”

And then the sky bruises purple.

And the air touches your face

like it knows your whole story.

And suddenly you realize:

all the real is actually unreal.

The dirt.

The breath.

The weird little bones in your hands.

The fact that we are here,

on a floating rock with pollen counts,

paying bills,

missing dead people,

loving living people

who say “leaving now”

while still fully naked and looking for socks.

And still,

the moon clocks in.

No applause.

No benefits.

No note from management saying,

“Great work being ancient and luminous again.”

Just the moon,

working nights

like a single mother with no applause,

packing silver lunches

for every dark thing

that still has to rise.

Tell me that isn’t holy.

Tell me there is a better word

than sacred

for the way light keeps returning

with no guarantee

we will actually stop and take note.

I know people who believe in therapy,

probiotics,

tarot,

twelve-step meetings,

manifestation journals,

and waiting exactly eleven minutes

before texting back

so they do not appear emotionally available,

even though their whole nervous system

is standing in the driveway holding flowers.

And underneath all of it,

every ritual,

every doctrine,

every smoothie with chia seeds,

the prayer is the same:

Please let me be loved.

Please let me be forgiven.

Please let this strange little life

mean something

before my lower back

submits its formal resignation.

What is going on?

For real tho—What is this place?

This unbearable tenderness

of being alive long enough

to watch steam lift from coffee in winter

like a soul practicing leaving.

To see your friend laugh so hard

they slap the table

as if joy is a mosquito

they are trying to kill.

To hear a child say “pisghetti”

and, for one shining second,

realize language

has finally been improved.

I know I already noted this in the first piece,

but the older I get,

the less use I have for certainty.

Certainty has never made me pull over

because the sunset looked like God

dropped a jar of peach jam

across the whole midwestern sky

and decided to be lazy

and not clean up.

Certainty has never made me gasp

at rain on hot pavement.

Certainty has never found me

in the cereal aisle,

holding Captain Crunch,

suddenly remembering

that everyone I have ever loved

was made from stardust,

hunger,

and a series of decisions

we probably should have slept on.

No.

It has always been awe.

Awe was the first church.

Before steeples.

Before committees.

Before men got involved

and started making rules about skirts.

Awe was there

with its wild hair

and muddy feet,

saying:

Look.

Look again.

Look until looking

becomes love.

Awe, and soup.

Awe, and someone rubbing your back

when you are sick.

Awe, and old couples at Target

arguing gently about avocados,

as if marriage is not one vow

but ten thousand errands

performed beside the person

who knows exactly

how you like the cart pushed.

Maybe gratitude

was never meant to sound elegant.

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Damn.

That woodpecker is trying

to beat that tree from itself.”

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Thank you, body,

for continuing to drag me through this world

despite the many slim jims 

I have done to you

at gas stations.”

Maybe gratitude sounds like:

“Thank you to the dogs

who lose their entire minds

when we come home

as if we have returned from war

and not Walgreens.”

For me, that might be my gospel.

That joy that does not wait for us

to be impressive but only needs us

to come through the door.

Because the truth is,

this life is devastating.

And ridiculous.

One minute you are 22 and invincible,

driving too fast,

eating gas station nachos

with the confidence of a Greek god.

The next minute you are googling,

“Can sneezing cause a hamstring injury?”

and the answer is,

apparently,

“Welcome to the second half of your life.”

But even now—

even tired,

even grieving,

even emotionally held together

by iced coffee, playlists,

and one very specific wolves hoodie—

we keep finding reasons

to stay soft.

We plant tomatoes

even though grief is real.

We bake bread

even though the news is on fire.

We send photos of the sky

to people we love

with captions like,

“LOOK,”

as if beauty is an emergency

and we are all volunteer firefighters.

We keep saying,

“You have to see this,”

because wonder

is the oldest form

of resurrection.

So here’s to the believers

and the atheists

and the agnostics

and the people whose entire theology

is just trying not to cry

in the DMV line.

Here’s to the people clinging to faith.

Here’s to the people clinging to Xanax

and oat milk

and the one group chat

where nobody pretends to be okay.

Here’s to the tender-hearted weirdos.

The accidental mystics.

The ones who can contemplate mortality

for six straight hours

and then become emotionally attached

to a perfect peach.

The ones who know

despair has a mouth,

but so does laughter.

May we never stop being drop-kicked by beauty

in the middle of a Sunday afternoon.

May we never become so polished

that we forget how to stand

in the Starbucks line of existence

with our dumb, gorgeous hearts open,

feeling the enormity of it all

rattle around in our bones

like thunder

looking for somewhere to laugh.

And may we remember:

whatever else this is,

whatever mess,

whatever miracle,

whatever cosmic group project

no one was prepped for—

all’ve it is astonishing.

that we are here.

that we have loved enough to be ruined.

that the moon keeps showing up.

that bread exists.

So pass it on.

Tear off a piece

with your bare hands.

Take it in as you take it down. 

And then go outside and look at that moon.