Dunite Days by Jane Elsdon

Jane and Gene Elsdon

It was in 1965 that I made my first trip to Central California and experienced my own personal adventures in the Oceano dunes, along with a good friend whose family owned a tiny cottage just off the Strand then. It was there we met Bert Schievink, well known as the hermit of the dunes. He and I hit it off right away and we exchanged letters after I returned to my southern California home in Riverside. Whenever we made a trip northward we hiked out to see Bert. In 1971 we moved to Atascadero.

Bert knew that I wanted to leave the workaday world and write. Again and again he would ask me when I was going to stop talking about it and do it. "Someday," I would venture. He would pin me with those laser blue eyes and chide me, "Ah yes, s o m e d a y." He would draw out that "someday" and I couldn't evade the issue.

It was in the summer of 1974 that Bert became ill. For several months Gene and I hiked out to see him. Gene would shave him and I would take food and we would do whatever we could to make him comfortable and attend to his needs. In early August, his friend Harold Guiton called to tell us he was in the hospital. For two weeks, Gene and I drove down to the hospital most evenings to see Bert. And Bert would say, "Soon it will be time for Jesus and Buddha to fight over my soul." On August 21st, he passed. But the man who had been our friend, mentor, and confidant would remain forever alive and vital in our hearts, minds, and memories. My husband and I were among the handful of folks to scatter his ashes in the dunes he so loved, along with Kathleen Jackson Jones, Goddard Jones, Harold Guiton, and a few others whose names escape me today, and to share stories of his presence in our lives. Only a few weeks later on Labor Day weekend of the same year, we hiked down to spend some time meditating before his cottage, only to find it reduced to ashes still sending their smoke upward.

During evenings in the hospital, when he was up to it, we had had many conversations. It was then I told him I would write a book about him one day. I interviewed many people who knew him and transcribed the tapes. In the process I realized how much I didn't know, so I decided to write a children's book. Bert was a mysterious figure and I would weave him into all the stories he had told us about his life there. The book would be fiction, but the part about him and the hermit I called "Bouke" would be absolutely as true to life as I could make it. And that is how "The Secret of the Dunes" came into being. I still get telephone calls from Canada, the central valley, and locally about the book. And I still have a few. I wrote many poems about him and his sanctuary over the years. Two of them are below. Bert was one of the last of the dunites. He was important to us and he made a great difference in our lives.

The other day I opened my mail box to find a picture of me and a group of friends during one of our pilgrimages to visit Bert Schievink, in the Oceano Dunes in the early 1970's. It was sent to me by Norm Hammond, author of "The Dunites." It seems the Oceano Depot Association will be hosting their First AnnuaL Dunite Days celebration during the weekend of June 8 and 9 at the Oceano Depot in Oceano. The event will commemorate the spirit of the dunites and will also be a fund raiser for Restoration of the Cabin of Dunite Chester Alan Arthur III (Gavin), which has now been relocated to the Oceano Deport. Gavin's Cabin is the only one remaining from the Dunite era.

The Oceano Depot, Cabooose, and Boxcar will be open for free tours on both days from 11 a.m. to 4 p.m. Included in the tours will be a display of Dunite Art and Artifacts in the Warehouse section of the Depot, with prints of Dunite art, books, and other items relating to the Dunites available for purchasing, including "The Secret of the Dunes."

On Saturday the 8th there will be an evening event with food and live entertainment. For further information on this event call Linda Austin at 489-5446, or visit Oceano Deport on Facebook and also the depot website at Oceano Depot.com.

Big Sur 2011

Hermit's Castle In willows fringing Oceano dunes a path etched long ago by urban pilgrim feet leads into a mysterious circle of trees. At its center native plants filigree blotted remains of the hermit’s castle. Blackberry vines crawl and climb their piercing attempt to overthrow goldenrod skeletons still clinging to dominion. Although overgrown now, it is still the hermitage. House wrens and finches flicker in treetops, their stained-glass song caught in sunlight. Memories hover in salt air like hummingbirds. Someone has placed a sitting stone in the heart of the ash to meditate where once she sat at the hermit’s feet in a willow clearing quickened with humor, wisdom, and peace. Hinges From the Hermit's Castle When I found your castle in smoldering ruins it was a belly blow without a breath of sense. Dazing my way through ash, their sight slashed like cinders. Everything was gone. Even the chair where you used to sit. Gently my husband took my arm, pulling me from the past. Like gold nuggets he placed in my palm charred hinges from the indestructible door I used to enter when I wished to escape the world. Join Us On Facebook   The Dunes Are Different Now For Bert Schievink The dunes are different now. Oh, they still look the same, their rhythmic, rolling contours rising from the lap of the seashore like burnished bald giants in Rubens’-repose. Cobalt blue still canopies them, trailing whispers of mist like chiffon scarves, wind and surf still sing soft songs, seagulls soar their aerial ballet, and willow groves still grow in tight little cliques at dunes’ edge. Although they look the same, the dunes are different now, because you’re gone. The dunes are different now. Oh, most people enjoy them the same, hang gliding from dune crests, roaring into dune buggy oblivion, clamming, surf fishing, swimming, looking for birds and wildflowers, exploring sandy slopes and interior terrain, meditating in caves of willow quiet. Although most people enjoy them the same, the dunes are different now, because you’re gone. The dunes are different now. Oh, they still look the same, to everyone, I imagine, except to us who once made our pilgrimage to your hidden willow hermitage, sat in the shadow of your "castle," waded into the depths of your clear blue gaze, and floated upon the resonant waves of your unique philosophy. Although they look the same, the dunes are different now. Oh yes, so very different now, because you’re gone.

Painting Big Sur 2011 by Gene Elsdon
Butterfly Banner Image by David Farris