
8 essential roadside attractions in California — giant dinosaurs, a mystery spot and more
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California has so many highways and freeways, it stands to reason we’d have plenty of roadside attractions.
The motel turns 100. Explore the state’s best roadside havens — and the coolest stops along the way.
Many date to the first half of the 20th century, when road trips were still a novelty and you could draw a crowd with a strangely shaped tree. But not all California roadside attractions are old relics. For instance, Big Josh — the fiberglass cowboy who looms above the Station along Highway 62 in Joshua Tree — only showed up in the last decade.
Here’s a sampling of new and old favorites, natural and human-made, between San Diego and San Francisco.

Cabazon Dinosaurs
Created by sculptor and Knott’s Berry Farm alumnus Claude Bell in the 1960s, ’70s and ’80s, the towering creatures Rex (a 65-foot-tall Tyrannosaurus rex) and Dinny (an apatosaurus) were built in part to promote a restaurant, now long gone. The two big dinosaurs (frequently repainted for various holidays) are free to see, and you may remember them from “Pee-wee’s Big Adventure” (1985) or a couple of Huell Howser visits in the 1990s. Some families may want to extend the rest stop by browsing the shop in Dinny’s belly (mood rings, “genuine dinosaur poop,” etc.) or strolling through the exhibits of Mr. Rex’s Dinosaur Adventure ($15 per adult, $13 per child 3-12). Once you’ve paid admission, you also can climb up inside Rex’s neck and look out at the world through the gaps between his teeth, but careful — that can be a perilous climb for little kids.
The deeper dive: In the 1990s, the dinosaurs were bought up by creationist owners who installed anti-evolution messages. Though at least one of those owners, Denise Kanter, remains in place, that approach was shelved years ago. Nowadays, besides all the large, small and robotic dinosaurs, scientific tidbits are offered about where their bones were found and how the creatures lived, not so much about when. As of February, the most prominent messages, painted on Dinny’s flank and Rex’s chest, were “Choose Love” and “I love you.”

Big Josh, Joshua Tree
The Station, a former Richfield gas station, now sells T-shirts, mugs, Mexican blankets, albums, old magazines, souvenirs and cold drinks, emanating high-desert vibes while serving as backdrop to countless selfies.
The property dates to 1949. But like so many in this corner of the high desert, Big Josh is a recent arrival.
Set designers Steve Halterman and Glen Steigelman, the married co-owners of the Station, bought the property in 2011 with vague plans to run it as a private events venue and studio. But one day in 2017 they spotted the cowboy on a trailer at the Sky Village Swap Meet in Yucca Valley. He was priced at $8,500. They bought him for $6,800.
The deeper dive: Among aficionados of roadside America, Big Josh is known as a “muffler man” — one among scores of fiberglass giants produced by L.A.-based International Fiberglass in the 1960s and ’70s to advertise muffler shops and other roadside businesses to passing motorists. After decades of creative recycling, these men can still be found across the U.S., some empty-handed, many brandishing golf clubs, hot dogs, axes, buckets of fried chicken — even mufflers.
Once Halterman and Steigelman had grabbed that cowboy, they named him Big Josh. By March 2018 they had him in place next to the Station. By April the Station was reborn as a retail shop. Sales boomed. Inventory multiplied. Selfies continue. Along the way, the two have added four kiddie rides and on March 1 they put an 8-foot-high spinning cowboy boot, purchased at the same swap meet (now closed) that Big Josh came from.
Placed on the Station’s roof, the new boot rises a few feet taller than Big Josh’s hat, but make no mistake: That cowboy still casts a long shadow.

Ostrichland USA, Solvang
That is, an ostrich. Or its cousin, the emu. Ostrichland USA, founded in the early 1990s along Highway 246 between Buellton and Solvang, is a sort of 32-acre zoo where families go to see and feed more than 80 ostriches, along with more than 70 emus, which are similar but smaller.
You pay $7 per adult ($3 for kids 12 and under), plus $1 for some pellets in a bowl, then make your way down to the wooden fence that separates people from beasts. If you have a bowl, don’t worry, the birds will find you. Just keep a good grip on that bowl, because ostriches move fast, have strong jaws and are not shy. (I didn’t see anyone get bitten in my hour there, but plenty of people were startled.) It’s open 9 a.m. to 6 p.m. daily.
The deeper dive: By the way, these creatures are not on their way to becoming jerky. They live out their lives (as long as 75 years) on the farm. Native to Africa, the ostriches reach weights of up to 350 pounds, heights of 8 to 9 feet (and have two toes). They’re said to be the largest and fastest-running birds on Earth. The emus, native to Australia, seldom grow past 6 feet and 150 pounds (and have three toes). Neither flies. Neither buries its head in sand. And with either bird, once one sticks its beak into your bowl, you will not be bored.

Piedras Blancas Elephant Seal Rookery
Out of water, northern elephant seals are as ungainly as a creature can get. Every adult is hundreds or thousands of pounds of blubbery, damp, stinky flesh, caked with beach sand, prone to molting, belly flops and mating frenzies.
The Piedras Blancas rookery, which began to develop in the 1990s, is just off Highway 1, on a rugged stretch of state-owned coast seven miles north of San Simeon. The seals, which grow up to 18 feet long and 5,000 pounds, gather at a pair of beaches, north and south of a parking area.
There’s a boardwalk (wheelchair-accessible), usually patrolled by a few volunteer docents in blue windbreakers. As you watch and listen, you bear in mind the experts’ warning to stay at least 25 feet away from the hulking beasts. Bring binoculars. Leave your drone at home. Leash your dog or keep it in the car.
The deeper dive: Depending on the season, hundreds of elephant seals may be found basking, sparring, giving birth and so on. The number of seals on the beach peaks in late January (when most births have occurred); early May (when there’s a lot of molting); and in late October, when juveniles “haul out” after months at sea.
Nineteenth century fishermen nearly wiped out these creatures, using their blubber for lamp oil and lubrication. But the tide turned in 1922, when Mexico gave the animals protected status. The U.S. followed suit. Elephant seals also are common at Año Nuevo State Park in Santa Cruz County and Point Reyes in Marin County.

Nepenthe, Big Sur
It’s the stop I always try to make in Big Sur, a restaurant (with cafe, gift shop and abundant parking) that clings to a slope above a dramatic shoreline.
The building, rustic yet modern, must have been startling when it went up in 1949. Inside: a high, sloped ceiling, red floor and circular fireplace. Outside, a wraparound deck and big patio.
Passing the bar by the door, you can almost hear Henry Miller holding forth, which happened often during the many years the writer lived nearby. Or maybe it’s an echo of Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth squabbling. They bought the property together as newlyweds in 1944 and sold it in 1947, the year they divorced.
If you come for dinner, be sure to arrive in time to appreciate the sunset. And be ready to spend. Most main dishes start at $42 or more (which is why I usually get the $26 Ambrosiaburger).
The deeper dive: The Nepenthe compound has a strong daytime option too. Come for breakfast or lunch on the patio at Nepenthe’s on-site offshoot, Cafe Kevah (9 a.m.-2:30 p.m. daily, weather permitting).
Either way, don’t miss the Phoenix gift shop (lots of books, art, clothes and jewelry), which might as well serve as the Wikipedia illustration for the word Bohemian.
Also, always check ahead on the status of landslide-vulnerable Highway 1. Since January 2023, Highway 1 has been closed for repairs at Regent’s Slide, south of Julia Pfeiffer Burns State Park and north of Lucia. For those approaching Big Sur from the south, that means you’ll be taking U.S. 101, then doubling back south at Salinas via highways 68 and 1.
The Mystery Spot, Santa Cruz
The main attraction, about 1 mile east of Highway 17, is a small cabin that wound up tilted on the slope of a hill in 1939. Seeing the optical illusions it made possible, the property’s owners opened it as a forest-adjacent tourist attraction in about 1940, telling tales of strange compass readings, etc. Guides demonstrate tricks of balance and perspective and speculate about mysterious forces. The tall may feel smaller. The small may feel taller. Selfies will be snapped. All will find their wallets $10 lighter.
It’s good, clean, kitschy fun (“nature’s black magic”), and unlike many a roadside attraction it’s neighbored by a hiking option — a 30-minute trail amid redwoods, oak and eucalyptus. The Spot is open daily with tours every half-hour, reservations recommended. Besides the $10 admission fee, parking costs $5 per vehicle (cash and checks only). But you do get free bumper stickers at the tour’s end. And the gift shop — it’s as cheesy and extensive as they come. I went home with a tilted coffee mug.
The deeper dive: Unique as it may seem, the Mystery Spot is part of an entire genre of roadside attractions based on optical illusions and gravity and born in the 1930s and ’40s. Others include the Oregon Vortex (since 1930 in Gold Hill, Ore.), Trees of Mystery (since 1946 in Klamath), Confusion Hill (since 1949 in the Mendocino County town of Piercy) and Mystery Hill (since 1958, or perhaps sooner, in Blowing Rock, N.C).

Chicano Park, San Diego
When state and local officials expanded Interstate 5 through San Diego and built the Coronado Bridge in the 1960s, they split the blue-collar neighborhood of Barrio Logan. Then in 1970, when the California Highway Patrol started building an office where a park was expected, the neighbors rose up, occupied the site for 12 days and at last got a 7-acre park set aside.
Soon after came the murals, followed by restaurants, galleries and the barrio’s designation as a cultural district. Now there are close to 100 murals, some celebrating Mexican icons such as Pancho Villa and Frida Kahlo.
The deeper dive: In 2016, federal officials added the park to the National Register of Historic Places, crediting artists Salvador Torres, Mario Torero, Victor Ochoa and others. In late 2022, the Chicano Park Museum and Cultural Center debuted next door. And every spring, the community throws a family-friendly party (food, games, classic cars) to celebrate Chicano Park Day on the nearest Saturday to April 22.

Ricardo Breceda's sculptures, Borrego Springs
Breceda, a Southern California sheet-metal sculptor commissioned by local philanthropist Dennis Avery, has since 2008 placed about 130 metal works around Borrego Springs, a desert getaway that’s as sleepy as Palm Springs and Joshua Tree are trendy. Breceda’s works include dinosaurs, a scorpion the size of a Subaru and the artist’s magnum opus, a fearsome, whiskered, half-submerged serpent of the sand.
That 350-foot-long serpent — actually a medley of five segments rising from the sand — lies along Borrego Springs Road, 2.3 miles north of Christmas Circle. The Anza-Borrego Desert Natural History Assn. store near Christmas Circle sells sculpture maps.
Before or after beast-hunting, get a cool beverage at Carlee’s or see what’s on the walls at the Borrego Art Institute. Then take a hike on the Borrego Palm Canyon Nature Trail (3 miles round-trip) or the Slot (a 2.2-mile loop through a slot canyon).
The deeper dive: Borrego Springs is designated an International Dark Sky Community, a prime place for stargazing and night-sky photography. Also, many photographers rise early and take their four-wheel-drive vehicles up a four-mile dirt road to capture the sunrise badlands panoramas from Font’s Point.
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