Inflation and a weak economy have given rise to a summer phenomenon called the “staycation”—in other words, staying home rather than taking a trip to Disney World. The trend stems from a budget-conscious mindset that Americans—especially families—are increasingly adopting.
To celebrate the beginning of summer, I thought I’d try it. I laid out my plans for family fun in the sun, which included inexpensive venues on the Central Coast that we often take for granted. It was a summer staycation on the cheap.
But while I planned, the question remained: Could our fun still have magic without the Magic Kingdom? I was on a mission to prove that a good time doesn’t have to cost a cent. Beyond a little bit of gas, that is.
We started out at the Natural History Museum in the heart of Santa Maria. Outside, a bold sign greeted us. It said two words: “Open” and “Free.” I was liking it already.
The exhibits featured many of the animals and habitats native to our area and boasted lots of fun facts, but the best part was that there were lots of opportunities for touching and grabbing—I mean the G-rated kind. For parents of boys, this is a blessing, especially since my kids wanted to touch everything, except for the Test Your Knowledge trivia game that was too far inside the bat exhibit. Too scary.
For lunch, we headed to the Olde Port Inn at the Port San Luis Pier in Avila. It wasn’t free. Actually it was far, far from free, but the ocean-scapes were worth it. From our glass table, we had 360-degree views of the ocean, as well as one straight down to the water below us.
Originally, I had argued for the hot dog and soda for $1.50 deal at Costco for lunch, but fish and chips beat out dogs and Coke. In the end, the extra $40 was well spent.
The coolest part of the day by far had to be the Summer Solstice Full Moon hike, sponsored by the Guadalupe Dunes Center. We met the guide and other hikers at the entrance to Oso Flaco Lake. Again, it was another super cool, free event. The best kind.
We arrived a little late, which put both Ron and me on edge. Once at the gate, we saw the rest of the hikers a short distance ahead and tried to catch up.
There were swarms of tiny insects flying around our faces. I snorted a few, Ron ate a few, and the boys seemed to be just under the cloud of hovering things, and so weren’t bothered by them. Ron, however, was.
“Well, I’m full,” he said. “I guess I won’t be needing a snack.”
Shortly after, he started to complain about being late and not being able to hear the guide’s stories. Then he reminded me that we should’ve brought the flashlight.
More than once, the boys—the wrestling, jumping, pushing boys—hit face-to-cheek against the derriere of a hiker who stopped abruptly to take a picture of a bird or tree or flower.
Despite the complaints and the occasional embarrassing icebreaker, courtesy of our bum-bumping boys, the walk was beautiful and we all soon began to relax. The sun was starting to set up ahead, bathing the trail in an orange glow and reflecting off of the lake. Ducks, with rows of tiny babies, swam across the water and a warm breeze made the beach grass sway. Even Jake and Chase gave in and enjoyed being in the moment.
Chase called it the best day of his life, topping even the last best day of his life, which was two days ago.
As the sun dipped farther, we got a little nervous about making it to the beach to watch it set. As hardcore beach goers, we have a superstition about the sunset: If we’re at or near the beach when it’s happening, we have to watch it.
People were walking way too slow, so we started to pass—Ron in the lead, Jake, then Chase, and me bringing up the end. Then dusk got duskier and we walked faster.
“Excuse me? Thanks.”
“Can I just get by? Thanks.”
We were scrambling.
Then Ron broke into a sprint, followed by Jake, then Chase, then me. As I ran, I could feel my calves burning each time my foot sank in the sand.
We reached the beach, ahead of the group, laughing and trying to catch our breath. The sky was a pale purple, and we were just in time to see the last quarter of the sun disappear into a darkened sea.
We flopped onto the sand and watched the rest of the group appear on the beach, wondering if they even knew what they had missed.
The boys wrestled in the sand and we watched waves, the dunes, and the other hikers, wondering what they were thinking as they quietly took in the scene.
We talked about the day, and we laughed together. In short, we had fun.
We walked back to the car in the dark, before the other hikers left the beach, and watched the moon rise over the lake. It was a breath-taking orange sphere, almost as if the sun had set, done a full rotation, and was now rising again.
It was the perfect way to ring in summer. Mission accomplished.
Arts Editor Shelly Cone can be reached at the beach for the rest of the summer. E-mail her at scone@santamariasun.com.
This article appears in Jun 26 – Jul 3, 2008.