"We should keep this a secret," our guide told us, gesturing to the small, inconspicuous hilltop we were standing on, somewhere along the edge of California's Central Valley. 

No, our guide was not a gold miner, drug smuggler or undercover agent.

He's just a beekeeper named Cameron Robertson.

Bee Yard #1: Avila Beach, CA

San Luis Obispo Bay, as seen from Cameron's hives.

We met up with Cameron at a patch of undeveloped hillside somewhere between the low-key beach towns of Pismo Beach and Avila Beach, about 200 miles north of LA. 

Cameron had promised us that we could "drive a golf ball into the ocean from these hives," and we weren't disappointed. While we didn't get any golfing in, we did manage to get a close look inside the 100-odd hives nestled out of sight behind a ridge. The owners of the million-dollar beach homes down the road probably appreciate the extra layer of protection between them and the bees — and the free pollination services for their gardens.

Cameron at work in his Avila Beach bee yard.

"Here, they're going to forage on a few different things. Sagebrush, some sage nectar, buckwheat. And then there'll be various wildflowers that grow down here in the in the bottoms of the canyons that depend on climate that we get, the moisture, rain and temperatures."

This little 'honey hole' was the perfect encapsulation of California honey: somehow at the beach, the mountains, ranchland and wilderness all at once. With mild temperatures and an ocean breeze rolling in, this particular spot rarely gets too warm for lush plant life to grow.

Bee Yard #2: Outside Cambria, CA

Coastline outside Avila Beach, just off Highway 1.

On Day 2, we kept beekeepers' hours — kind of like farmers' hours, but with a long commute thrown in. We were up and moving by 5:00am, taking a winding drive along Highway 1 as the sun rose over the hills.

We were headed to a secluded spot in a lush, barely developed valley outside Cambria, CA — a bit more inland, but no less scenic. It was still a brisk 63º, and the bees were barely waking up. Turns out, they peak in activity in the early afternoon — especially when it's warm out. 

"In the mornings, we can't wait to get rolling, because we have quite a bit of travel time between our bee yards. We try to get out early enough, right before they get active. We get up about 5:30 in the mornings, get on the road and get into the first yard at first light."

A ravine provides a source of water and wildflowers for bees outside Cambria, CA.

Making it as a beekeeper in California means making friends with just about anybody who owns land. Cameron snagged this particular plot through a deal with the landowner, telling us, "There's no other way that landowners would ever let a guy like me on this property if it wasn't for the benefit that the bees bring to their property."

Much of the agriculture in California's Central Valley relies on beekeepers to truck in their bees and pollinate the crops. But here in hilly, craggy Cambria, the land is mostly pasture. Honeybees love to pollinate clover and alfalfa, which grow just about everywhere and make for fine grazing for cattle and livestock. Many landowners are happy to have a beekeeper on their property, others charge for the privilege. But most are happy to be paid off in honey.

After about an hour, Cameron had peeped into a dozen or so hives. With the cool weather over the past few weeks, honey production was slow-ish, but nothing concerning. Still rubbing sleep from our eyes, it was time to hit the road again.

"On any given day, we can visit 2–5 yards, given traffic and logistics and weather. That's somewhere between 50 and 150 miles in a given day. Usually, that means we wrap up about an hour after sunset."

Sunset was still a long way off. We stepped out of our suits, hopped in the truck and headed east through countless rolling hills toward our next stop: catching up with one of Cameron's crews.

Bee Yard #3: Outside Paso Robles, CA

It helps to have friends in dry places. Cameron's crew can check hundreds of hives every hour.

Paso Robles, California is firmly in Central Coast wine country. 60 miles further inland, it felt like a different world: semi-arid, sunny, and warm — especially in a beekeeper's suit. Here, the bees were active, with a constant hum of bees buzzing in our ears.

Cameron and his crew were unfazed. Within seconds, they started cracking open hives like the seasoned professionals they are. "We try to work as many hives as we possibly can while giving the bees the best care that we can. But in doing so, we have to work when the bees are working, which is all daylight hours. That means we start before sunrise, and we finish after sunset."

So, beekeepers work a lot. But what exactly are they doing all day, every day? 

Local Hive Nor Cal and Local Hive So Cal are sourced from California beekeepers like Cameron.

"During these visits, we're checking just to see how production has been coming along. Here, we're in sage country, we have buckwheat. Checking the hives, we can see they're stocked up a little higher because production here has been a little bit better."

Any amateur beekeepers will tell you that it's best to disturb a hive as little as possible. A full-time beekeeper planning his next honey harvest has to balance this against his own curiosity. And since a beehive is something of a 'black box', beekeepers end up developing superstitions for predicting how the hives are doing.

"It's bad juju to come prepared. So we sent [our other crew] home, hoping that we would find a surprise when we got here. Now, it just seems like every single box we crack, we're waiting to see a dud, and it just keeps getting better and better. And now we got to call the other crew back."

If you expect a full hive, you'll find an empty one. And if you expect an empty one, you'll end up with more honey than you know what to do with. C'est la bee.

Since these hives are producing well, Cameron will call in another crew to come and pick up these hives. They'll be taken to an extraction house in the area, where the honey can be safely stored long-term, before being shipping to Local Hive's HQ in Greeley, Colorado for bottling.

Meanwhile, we hopped back in the truck and headed north to our final stop.

Bee Yard #4: Undisclosed Location, Monterrey County 

Turns out keeping bees means keeping secrets, too. 

It had already been a grueling 14-hour day when we pulled over behind Cameron. He was taking a business meeting from a McDonald's parking lot — classic beekeeper behavior.

He had promised us a visit to one more bee yard before sunset, "This one's up on a hill, it's pretty good." What followed was 30 minutes of winding gravel roads, bypassing two locked farm gates, and a new set of instructions from Cameron: "Let's keep this one a secret."

We were a bit stunned. Why come all the way out here just to keep this location a secret?

"Hive theft is very real." Apparently, some beekeepers are so desperate to find high-quality land with enough forage for their hives that they'll snipe locations from other beekeepers.

How? Google Street View. With an inkling of where the beehives are, beekeepers can start scanning satellite photography, and looking for that telltale array of white boxes. Then, it’s just a matter of linking up with the landowner and offering him a better deal for the spot. Or, for the particularly unscrupulous, just straight-up stealing the beehives, honey and all. 

Opening the first hive, Cameron smiles bigger than he has all day. This hive is practically bursting at the seams with honey. "It's dripping from the box. These bees are drowning in it! It's a great sign." Inspecting a few more, we find hive after hive, loaded up with honey and ready for harvest. Every golden, translucent drop looks impeccable in the sunset.

Beyond the quality of the honey, this spot also holds memories for Cameron. "This is one of our long-standing, decades-old plots of land. It's brought back a lot of child memories every time I come here, seeing these roads and these amazing yards. I painted some of these boxes when I was a kid. Some of these frames are older than I am."

The Golden State of Mind

Even after a long day, it doesn't take much to get Cameron going on the topic of California. He truly loves his home state and doing his part to keep it thriving. "California is the breadbasket of the world. It's a breadbasket of our country. It's a matter of food security and national security that we have good bees in California to provide for our agriculture." 

Looking out over the endless hills and valleys loaded with produce, it's easy to take it all for granted. But many fruits, nuts, and vegetables are only growing because of the work of American beekeepers and their bees. For most beekeepers, providing pollination services is their main focus. But for Cameron, it always comes back to the honey. "I think we're one of the highest quality producers, not only in the state, but in the country. You know, for two generations, over 60 years in business, we've been trying real hard. It's not an accident."

After the sun sets, there's an almost eerie calm as the bees settle into their hives for the night. We start packing the trucks and making dinner plans. (Swatting bees and sweating bullets has a way of whetting your appetite.)

Meanwhile, Cameron is on the phone with his crew, talking logistics, still in his beekeepers' suit.

"We didn't get enough done today. Now, we're just planning for tomorrow."