I first found out about the cabin at Point Sal in February, 1985, from my long time friend, Kathleen Jones.  She was then in her seventies and had just come back from a hike from Point Sal State Beach north, to Guadalupe Beach.  She said there was now a cabin mid-way on the beach that runs a mile and a quarter between Point Sal and Mussel Rock in Santa Barbara County.  I loaded my pack for a three day trip, and hiked south on Guadalupe beach. 

     I climbed the pass above Mussel Rock Ravine, where a fresh water stream drops over a cliff directly onto the beach, and saw the cabin for the first time.  It didn't look real.  Ramshackle and free, the roof and walls stood at odd angles to the earth and to each other.  It sat facing the sea, on a small rock ledge about ten feet above the beach.  Its porch jutted out over the beach and during storms, when the tide was high, the incoming waves came up on the beach and beneath the porch.  It was perfect.

     I spent my first three day trip to Point Sal surrounded in beauty, and never saw a soul.  Except my own...   

                    *  *  *  *  *

     As far back as I can remember, I have felt that the only way I could see beyond the limitations of my self and ego, is to be away from the glittering sweet attractions in the city.  I feel that the best way to do this is to be alone in the wilderness, especially at night.  After my first night at Point Sal, I knew that a window had been prepared for me, and was now open. 

     The beauty, alone, was enough to keep me going back.  But there was also a mysterious energy there.  I could feel it everywhere; beneath the floor of the cabin and up and down the beach, out into the sea, and even in my dreams.  I wanted to stay forever, but managed to content myself with three to five day trips.  I was soon in love with the place. 

     At Point Sal there is no entertainment, except the live entertainment which is provided by the creatures who live there.  Although I find most comedy boring, I found humor in the simple antics of the water striders in the creek north of the cabin.  I watched their dimpled shadows darting and playing games with each other, while skirting danger near the top of the waterfall.

     The cabin was built by K., whom I met more than a year after I began using the cabin.  He built the cabin in 1982, using 2 X 4 timbers that had washed up onto the beach during heavy winter storms.  At that time, he was working on astral projection in the dream state, having"out of body" experiences while asleep.  This is one of the things he was doing at Point Sal, and why he called the cabin "Dream Seeker."  I loosely applied the name Dream Seeker to anyone who came there.

     No one knows who started carving and drawing the winged eyes for decorations in the cabin.  I liked it immediately and adopted it as a symbol of the spirit of the beach and cabin.  There are several different versions of the winged eye, at different locations in the cabin.  Two are carved and the other one was ornately drawn with pencil, apparently by several different people.

     On each trip to Point Sal, I saw that the objects left in the cabin had moved around, so I knew that others were going there too.  I wanted to know what they were doing there, so I left my journal in the cabin for them to write in.  I soon found out they were going there for the exact same reason I was.  Although most of us never met, we shared what we were doing at Point Sal through our writings in the journal and on the walls of the cabin. 

     The cabin became a focal point for the energy and spirit of Point Sal, and the writings became the voice of that spirit, manifesting through those who came there.  On each trip, I carried the latest writings out, to protect them from the mice and the rain.  On return trips to the cabin, I brought Xerox copies of the original writings to put back in the book to share with others. 

     The writings in the journal span a period of almost seven years, from 1985 through 1991.  Presented here is a small collection of selected writings from that journal, which eventually came to over two hundred pages.  As caretaker and scribe, I have preserved the entire manuscript of original writings and artwork in a safe place.  In time, I hope a larger portion of that work can be stored here in electronic form.

     These pages are dedicated to the Spirit of Point Sal, and to all who have come here.