In the Footsteps of the Dunites

By Renate Benedict.

To close Beach Week here on Vulpes Libris we have a remarkable account, in her own words, of the four months Renate Benedict  (mother of Jay) spent in Elwood Decker’s cabin in the heart of the Oceano Dunes.

So put your feet up, settle back and lose yourself in another world …

~~~: o :~~~

All things extraordinary

I think it was the spring of 1949 when I first saw the sand  dunes at Oceano.  I, along with some friends, was taken there by Oliver Andrews, who was Gavin Arthur’s nephew.

Oliver was connected with all things extraordinary in our lives, or so it seemed to me.   He had already taken me to Mountain Drive in Santa Barbara, where his beautiful mother Floppy and his step-father Bobby were developing their Paradise, and where we all ended up building our adobe houses.  This, however, was to be a special weekend, where he took us to Oceano to show us the famous Dunes.

We drove onto a flat, hard sand beach.  The tide was far out and we had plenty of room to drive  without worrying about the ocean coming in too fast.  I watched the dunes carefully.  They  all looked very much like each other, but  I was able to count seven dunes . . . before we stopped at a  place that would be indelibly printed on my heart.  It was, we were told, where Elwood’s shack was to be found.

Elwood.  I had heard the legend of Elwood Decker from Oliver –   of how, after years of living in the Dunes a lady had come along from Hollywood and lured him back into civilization.  And now we were actually on the point of discovering his shack  . . .

We climbed the high seventh dune and wove over to the right, sliding down dunes and over fine sumptuous sand – always looking and searching – a little more inland, and always more  dunes.  Suddenly, we came upon a small valley and – just a little to the right and dangerously near to a big, overwhelming dune – stood a small  shack, safely tucked in.  There it was – the shack which would later become my home.

It was truly a find as no-one occupied it and it was in perfect condition, clean and welcoming.  It had some amazingly big windows and I wondered how such huge windows had ever come across those dunes.

When we left, it was with reluctance in my heart.  I knew not why, but something told me to take note carefully in case I ever had to find this place again.  I said to myself: “Watch and remember, this is where your heart lives!”

A free and available Paradise

In October 1949 I married a young man, a near stranger I had known for only one and a half months.  In late April 1950, we quit our jobs. We were only 22 years old.  We packed up our old Chevy with books and an oil painting kit, three chicks we were given at Easter, no clothes to speak of and Ed’s trumpet.  I was wearing a pair of jeans, a white tee shirt and a green cashmere cardigan which was full of holes.  Perhaps we had a sweatshirt somewhere, and a bikini – but that was it.

We left for our new adventure with hardly any money.  I had promised Ed a free and available Paradise.  We were young and healthy and something that was wild and free had appealed to this husband of mine with whom I was madly in love.  To quit our jobs at that time in our lives really didn’t seem such a big deal, even though our parents seemed to think so and something  drew me there, so I was ready to sacrifice almost anything, no matter what!

We left one morning, with our small precious cargo, from the San Fernando Valley, up past Buell’s Split Pea sign and on to Santa Barbara, where we spent the night at Floppy and Bobby Hyde’s Mountain Drive house, which was always in a state of ‘just finishing off’ another room.  And true to form, we slept outside under a porch roof.  The next day we were given their benediction, and we were cheered on our way to our wonderful adventure – to become Dunites.

When we arrived in Oceano, there was still enough time to take the old Chevy onto the sand and find the shack. This was now really scary for me because I wasn’t totally sure that I could find it, or that it would be still be available – but I didn’t tell Ed.  We had to find the shack, unload our stuff and not lose any time because the tide had been known to swamp cars and even carry them out to sea.

There was a small pier at Oceano – and a really helpful man call Bill Lovern. He gave us advice on the tide, had a tractor to pull cars out of the sand with, and sold essentials like matches. He also told us where to buy provisions and said we could safely leave our car with him. It was wonderful to have a friend!

It was well into the afternoon by this time and it was now vital that we found the shack. We drove onto the hard sand and as we drove, I counted the dunes. At the seventh, and highest, we got out and started walking. I kept up a constant internal conversation with God – with whom I often get in touch – and who often hears me:

“Oh, please, Dear God, let me find the shack.”

My second prayer went like this:

“Oh, please, Dear God, if I do find it, then let it be empty and available for us.”

And so we went stomping through the loose sand, always scanning,  like animals who listen to the wind. I was being told to veer to the right and a bit further inland. Then, miraculously, just as we were coming over a steep dune, I saw our Paradise. And it was empty.

Ed was impressed and I was totally ecstatic.

It was long house, not very wide, with that mysterious ‘Dune’ smell – very special – the smell of no humans, very pure. I can still smell it now.

We quickly checked the shack over to decide how to use it, where to sleep, where to sit. We had no furniture. We did bring one pot and one pan to cook in, and our sleeping bags – but there were no bunks, no tables and only one narrow shelf.

We made several trips to empty the car, then while Ed took it back to Bill at the pier I started a plan of action.

This black lady

It was wonderful to be alone. I felt happy and excited, with so many secrets to be discovered.  I found a good size table outside and also a smaller shack out the back.  I wondered what it had been used for. It had an amazing door with a carved design on it. There was also a yard that was fenced off, probably for vegetables at one time – so I put the three chicks into it. I gave them some of the food that I’d brought, but knew I’d have to find some other way to feed them in the future.

We were protected from the wind, but the large dune at the end of the shack seemed threateningly close – close enough to swallow up our lovely new home.

Our first night on the hard floor  well – for a first night, with strange and new noises around us.   On waking, I saw a huge black widow spider hanging in its web over the door. We took this black lady as a good omen  and decided to leave her there. From then on we would say ‘Good morning’ and ‘Good evening’ to her, and she became part of our family.

In the day time, our sleeping bags were rolled up and served as chairs. The narrow shelf under the smaller window was our provision shelf. We needed so little, and I loved doing without what one usually takes for granted. The less there was, more I enjoyed the challenge of overcoming the problems.

Our next adventure was the following morning as we walked across the dunes to the beach and found these enormous clams.   They must have been at last ten to twelve inches across. They were the famous Pismo clams, given to us by God himself – free, and easy to collect as we were always the first people on the beach. We had our pick of the biggest and best clams and we didn’t even have to dig for them.  I soon realized that one clam was ample for one person a day. The shells made wonderful little dishes and any little bits of clam that were left over went to the chickens – so nothing was wasted. I learned to make clam chowder, or fry up the best pieces with onions and the little bits of whatever herb that I could find, or even eat some raw. It was wonderful. They gave us energy and life, and we were thriving.

One problem we encountered at the beginning was the lack of a convenient cooking place. I finally found a rusty ring on three legs which could hold a pot and a frying pan, but I had to hold on to the handle so that it wouldn’t fall over – and it didn’t help when the wind blew the smoke into my face so I had to change position all the time, but I didn’t really mind because it was all so exciting.

Then there was the question of the wood for the fire as there was none readily around. This meant hunting for it, and it was really no more than brush country, so wood was difficult to find every day.

Sweet water

The OTHER important thing was our drinking water.  We had brought a big bottle of water with us but it was not nearly enough to meet our needs, even if we were careful. We washed ourselves in the sea, but we didn’t drink from the sea or make clam chowder of coffee from it. (We quite quickly did without coffee as we had to drink it cold anyway because it was just too much to ask to make a fire for a cup of coffee.)

After a few days, I found a wooden well with sweet water in a nearby clearing. It was beautiful – and I was delighted, even though it was inhabited by small, lovely frogs. We figured that this was good enough for cooking, washing, cleaning our teeth and making the odd cup of coffee if we had a fire going – but for drinking we stuck to our bottled water.

This discovery now made things much more possible. We had our water, and we had our friends – the frogs and the spider – and our three chickens, two hens and a cockerel. They were always asking for food and I never seemed to have enough for them, so I started to give them extra bits of clam, which at first they didn’t really take to. What they wanted was grain, of course, which we didn’t ever have enough of.

We decided that we would walk once a week to Oceano to get supplies and also to cash in Ed’s GI money, which was exactly $5 a week. It was ample for us to live on, and even feel quite rich! So, every week, we bought seven bananas, seven oranges, seven apples, whatever vegetables were going at the time and bread. This seemed to be enough for the time, and if we had enough money we bought chocolate or some other sweet. Doing this also served as a calendar – because we knew that when the seven fruits were gone, we had to go into town.

Ed spent most of his time playing his trumpet while I explored. I think my favourite tune that Ed played was Summertime. Other than that, he mainly practised scales and exercises. I loved finding new little valleys and places where I though maybe someone had lived before.   I walked endlessly on the beach, which we had to ourselves most of the time.

Fishing

One day, I met some Filipino fishermen and I hung around them at a distance for a while and observed. They had a unique way of fishing, because they didn’t use a pole. I told Ed about it and he and I befriended one of the fishermen. We started a conversation about fishing and he explained his whole technique to us. He told us that we too could easily start to fish without buying expensive equipment. We listened carefully, because we were about to learn how to procure more free food to add to our diet – another heavenly gift.

And this is how it’s done:  You get an empty coffee can and inside you fit a piece or wood which is nailed from the outside to make a handle. Then you get a long fishing line and fix that onto the can, then wind the line around the can. On the other end of the line you fix two or three hooks and some weights – and you’re in business.  You have stand in the shallows and swing the weighted end around your head.  Then, at the right moment – which is something you feel by instinct – you let go and it flies into the big waves.

We bought what we needed from Bill at the Pier. We used bits of clam as bait and it was such an instant success that we almost at once had two sort of fish on our hooks – perch and mackerel. It doesn’t take long. As soon as you get a tug, you start winding the line – which has by now gone out to sea – back onto the can. How exciting was this: to have two different sea foods?! At first we had to take turns, as we BOTH wanted to do the fishing – after all, collecting the clams was no big deal, because they just lay there for us every morning!

The dunes were playful

We were now healthy and well fed and our muscles were strong from walking in the dunes. Ed did all the heavy things like carrying the bottles of water. I gathered wood and if I found a big piece washed in from the sea, he would carry that home – then we could have a fire all night and consequently boil water for a rare cup of coffee.

I took to going nude all day long – but was always watchful, although the risk of running into another person was slim. The dunes, though, were playful and – until I knew them by heart – I could have  easily slide down a dune and disappeared.

In all the time we lived in the dunes, we had only one visitor …

One night, it was nearly dark and Ed and I were more or less saying goodbye to the day by candlelight when we heard a noise outside.   Suddenly, there was a loud knock on the door, and I was immediately scared. Whoever it was could of course see us from the outside, so Ed opened the door and we confronted the visitor. It turned out to be a man in his thirties –  good-looking but rather rough. He said he knew Elwood’s shack and asked if he could spend the night, as that was what he always did when he came here.

We all sat down together and he had some wine and sausages and bread, which he shared with us. He told us that he came from Hawaii and that he sailed a lot, and that his name was Cliff. After a while, the knife that he had cut the sausage with flew into the wall just behind me. He was a pretty good knife-thrower . . .

I felt unsettled. It might just have been the wine, though, because nothing more happened and we all settled down to sleep and the next morning he left, and we parted on friendly terms.

The Lords of the Dunes

I was happier during this time than I had ever been in my life, or ever was again.  Playing at survival – which I was good at – and inventing ways of improving everyday life was, to me, the greatest luxury I had ever had – and I had the perfect partner, because he allowed me to do it. After all, he had quit his job and put aside everything he had ever known to follow me into this unknown. What enticed him, of course, was that it was free – and he could blow his trumpet all day long into the evening!

For me, it was the experience of the basics of life and how to cope like our ancestors, to discover how to help ourselves; to find herbs that could soothe, or be added to a meal, like the first people on the earth. We were alone day after day with the wonderful nights under the stars, and the early mornings in the sun and the wind,  running down to the beach to see what had changed since yesterday, who was there, what new clams awaited us, and whether we were going to eat fish that day!  We learned about the stars and the tides and the moon and we lay hours under the night sky learning the constellations. We didn’t have a book, but Ed didn’t seem to need one.

We became the Lords of the Dunes.

We lived there, though, for only four months – although it seemed a lifetime to me. We would have stayed longer, but I discovered I was pregnant. I had conceived there in those wonderful dunes, under the stars with the black widow spider hanging on the window; with the wind and the surf and the frogs and Elwood’s spirit. And when we reluctantly left, I was carrying within me the very spirit and living manifestation of everything I had experienced and that was given to me by the great almighty spirit that is over us all.

Nine months later my son was born, the symbol of the freedom I so loved.

~~~ o ~~~

(The photographs are © Norm Hammond.  Our thanks to him for allowing us to use them.)

~~~ o ~~~

MOUNTAIN DRIVE ARCHIVE PROJECT:  Those of you who have read Renate’s earlier interview on Vulpes Libris will know that from the Oceano Dunes she moved to Mountain Drive.  Since that interview has been published, we have been contacted by several people with their memories of Mountain Drive, lamenting the fact that no-one was apparently preserving the memories for posterity.  So, we are considering starting an on-line archive.  If you – or anyone you know – would like to contribute memories or photographs, please get in touch via the emailaddress  at the top of the right hand column.