While we still owed a fifth wheel (trailer), we often drove up the coast and park near the Pigeon Point Lighthouse. The site was frequented by boondocking RVers. Boondocking is a term used amongst RVers and it means...free camping. You pull off the road and spend the night in a place where it’s legal to do so, or in a spot where no one really cares. At Pigeon Point we could park at the edge of the surf under the light from the lighthouse and no one complained. It was absolutely glorious. We’d basked in the sun, watch fifty different species of birds hunt for their food in the tide pools, read or just sit and stare out into the ocean. After enjoying the day, we were lulled to sleep by the sound of the waves. And then there was the lighthouse itself. There is something wonderful about lighthouses. They remind us of the early days of sailing ships and those romantic, adventurous times, of Captain Ahab, pirates, whalers and Long John Silver. Lighthouses are very much a part of our heritage. And let us not forget that they are amazing feats of engineering and architectural design, making them both efficient and beautiful.
Pigeon Point Lighthouse has a rich history, as do most of the lights along the West Coast. The area was originally named Whale Point because of the migrating grey whales that pass by each year. In 1853, the clipper ship “Carrier Pigeon” was shipwrecked on the rocks just off the point and so the name was changed. Three more major wrecks followed, which resulted in the building of the light station in 1870. Pigeon Point light has the distinction of being one of the tallest lights in the US and still in operation. 
The wedge of land we camped on was across the frontage road from a field of Brussels sprouts. When the farmer picked his crop, there were always some left behind. I remember culling some of those leftovers to augment a night’s meal. It was exciting to be there when the Pacific storms churned up the water and pounding waves beat against the rocks. The wind howled and the trailer shook. It was fine as long as the shaking wasn’t too violent. We’d just lie there and sleep a little, awaken, snuggle down deeper in the covers, go back to sleep, repeating the whole process ever hour or so. One particular storm got so bad that we were sure that at any moment the trailer was going to topple over after being hit by what must have been gale force winds. During that particular storm, we were forced to abandon the site in the middle of the night. At about 4 am we pulled up stakes and headed inland.
At another time, my sister, Linda, my sister’s husband and I filled garbage bags with trash left there by careless fools. We harvested the surroundings, filling up the back of my long bed truck with a dozen or more bags and hauling them to the nearest dumpster. It was pathetic what some people left behind: a junk car body, assorted cartons, tin cans, dirty baby diapers and even a pathetic litter of kittens too wild to get near. Well, finally the day of reckoning arrived. It was inevitable that someone would complain about freeloaders who were staying on what must have been private property and then as thanks leaving garbage behind. One evening while we were eating dinner, there was a knock on the door. It was a Highway Patrolman who politely told us to vacate the premises, which we did. On the way out of the site while maneuvering over a berm, I misjudged and the trailer hit the rails of the truck and bent them badly. I guess you could say that was our “punishment” for freeloading on the land. That bit of bad luck cost several hundred dollars. At about the same time, the light station was being transformed into a hostel with lodging for 50 people. It was never clear to me who actually made the complaint about the boondockers. Was it the farmer or Hostelling International? There was a report that the farmer wanted to transform the property into a regular RV park, but the Coastal Commission squashed the plan. In any regard, I think making the area off limits to boondocking was probably the right thing to do. Soon after our eviction, signs were posted prohibiting any further camping and the hostel transformation was scaled down. Our days of boondocking at Pigeon Point were over, but definitely not forgotten.
Q
