I haven’t been there for a long time; maybe eight years. But there is a really nice hotel in Carmel called the “Highlands Inn.”
I passed it maybe two years before I stayed there as I was driving through Carmel up to Monterey. It’s light peach colored and sits on the East side of Highway 1. I thought to myself, “That would be a nice place to stay.” Well, apparently so do a lot of people.
The grounds were wet from the light rain that had permeated the day before I got there. I was escorted to my room, which had a full ocean view. It was cozy; not big and not too tight. There was a warm crackling fire lit for me with all of the wood I might be able to feed it made available to me.
Next to the bed was a CD player with a small library of new-age music. I don’t normally play a lot of this genre, but it was perfect for my stay there.
That night, I went into the hot tub just outside my room, of which I was the sole occupant, and sat in it as a very heavy mist floated down on me. The tub was perched in such a way that I could look over it’s side, down and across Highway 1 to the water crashing on the rocks below.
Visible in the full moonlight, I could see the cobalt blue breakers hitting the rocks illuminating a rhythmic snowy whitewash spraying up into the night. I thought to myself, “That is really blue water.” It was a wonderful moment of serenity.