Just a few miles north of Hearst Castle along the Pacific Coast Highway–if you’re driving with the windows open–you may catch a bit of a strong, “organic” scent on the wind.
I’m not talking about the salty, seaweed-y aroma of the ocean. The smell I’m describing is worse. Much worse.
What you’re probably experiencing is the awful stench of the elephant seal rookery at Piedras Blancas. If you have a planned stop for a closer look at these marine mammals, two words of advice: stand upwind.
In mid-June, you’ll most likely find a colony of northern elephant seals encamped at this beach not far from the Piedras Blancas light station. At first glance, it looks like a massacre has taken place–the listless bodies of elephant seals practically litter the beach–but the flip of a few leathery, weathered fins reassures you that everything is A-okay. Well, except for that horrible smell.
The criss-crossed tire track-like markings leading from the water’s edge up along the sand where hundreds of these giant seals lie show where they’ve have “hauled-out” onto the shore to spend up to a few months on the beach. Why? They’re molting. The seals look pretty horrible as they undergo the “catastrophic” shedding that occurs as they relinquish an older layer of fur to make room for a new one.
They stay on the beach, their bodies a mottled mélange of furry and sleek, fasting for months at a time while they regenerate that insulating layer. As such, they won’t brave the frigid Pacific waters to feed until their bodies are ready. They just lay there, sleeping and molting and flipping sand onto themselves to keep their bodies at a comfortable temperature.
And since they don’t go anywhere, they “go” right where they lie. Between the molting, the bodily waste, and the decomposing bodies of seals that didn’t survive, one can guess why the colony smells so bad. However, as long as you have a strong stomach and can stand the stink, it’s a very enjoyable experience to see the seals undulating their wobbly bodies across the shore to join their colony-mates in this massive assembly.
Simmer down–this is no orgy. Mating primarily takes place in February. Instead you’ll see the alpha males (bulls), identified by the large, floppy proboscis (or nose) that gives the species its name, engaging in battles for dominance. I think I giggled the whole time, since it basically looks like two massive self-propelled bean bags flinging themselves at each other. Don’t think me heartless, as these pitched battles are rarely to the death. No one ever said nature was always pretty.
Even funnier? The sounds. The roaring bellows of the bulls sound like guttural, vibrating, flatulent belches.
Technically, it’s forbidden to go down to the beach but people do hop the fence in the hope of getting a closer look at these blubbery beasts. Do so at your own risk but beware that, when agitated, these seemingly docile creatures can move surprisingly quickly. A male elephant seal, which can be as long as 16 feet and weigh almost three tons, can move faster on soft sand than the average human. Unless your name is Usain Bolt, watch out.
Even at a distance, the elephant seal haul-out is just so darned compelling, it’s almost hypnotic. You get so caught up the wobbling, grunting, sand-flipping, body-flinging action set against the backdrop of black volcanic rocks and the rhythmic ebb and flow of the Pacific, after a while you hardly notice the smell.
What do you think? Would you stop to see the elephant seals at Piedras Blancas? Why or why not?