It was time to hang out again with my friend Paul, the ladykiller. He had enjoyed a busy weekend so far, dancing the night away on Friday and attending a potluck dinner on Saturday. Both evenings had been punctuated by a regular stream of ladies inquiring if “he had a girlfriend”.
By now it was a late Sunday morning in mid-April and Paul was kind enough to rip himself away from throngs of adulating ladies to join me on a short road trip.
Sonoma Horticultural Nursery in Sebastopol is one of the county’s best kept secrets. Eight acres of woodland gardens transected by one and a half miles of meandering pathways make Sonoma Horticultural a fun and unusual destination. The nursery specializes in Azaleas, Rhododendrons and shade loving plants and although it is beautiful year round, the best time of year to visit is in April and May, when the flowers are in bloom.
The pond is the showpiece of the nursery and a gorgeous place to bring a picnic and have lunch, as there are small picnic tables and benches tucked alongside the pathway.The amenities are a little rough – no running water and one portapotty in the parking lot, so if you plan to eat there, come prepared. The nursery encourages visitors, although if you are part of a group larger than 10 people, signing up for a guided tour is requested. Parking is very minimal, both in the nursery and on the narrow street outside of the nursery
It was still a little early for lunch by the time Paul and I finished wandering around the nursery so we decided that we would continue driving and have our picnic lunch along the Russian River. However all the parking lots were full at the beaches. I looked at my phone’s GPS and we found that Shiloh Regional Park in Santa Rosa was relatively nearby, so we decided to eat there.
The only other people in the picnic area were a group of Mexican men who were evidently having a photo shoot. They posed in various group positions while dressed in red cowboy shirts. In some of the photos they were wearing cowboy hats and in other photos they were bareheaded. As we were leaving, they were all changing into matching turquoise shirts for another round of photos.
Although there are hiking trails at the park and some nice views, I was heavily fatigued, so we went home after eating. I tried to avoid crashing in the car but by the time we got back, I hit the sack. Nobody ever mentioned that recovering from chemo would be so grueling and take so long. I just never know when I will suddenly go into one of these catatonic states. They seem to come out of nowhere.
If you were wondering how Paul fared, well here is a little story. When it was time to leave Shiloh, I went into the bathroom while Paul was loading the car. While he was busy packing up the trunk, a fleet of female bicycle riders flew by, waving and calling out to him. I had seen the cyclists first by the restroom and had been royally ignored. But that’s Paul’s charmed life with the ladies.
I have managed to make it out to Sonoma Horticultural for a springtime trip once a year for the last few years. Last year while I was on chemo, Joshua accompanied me to the nursery and afterward we drove up the Sonoma Coast and looked at the beaches. I was pretty weak and sat in the car in a chemo-headed state while Joshua jumped in and out of the car and took some very beautiful photos every time we parked. I remember that it was a warm and balmy day, unusual for our Northern California Pacific coastline. On the way home we had dinner in a pizza restaurant.
Our road trip was the on the last day of April, which was also the last day of the burn season in rural Sebastopol where I was living at the time. So when Joshua brought me home, the air was heavy with smoke and there was a huge bonfire in the field where my little house was located. I was so drugged up from chemo that I wasn’t even concerned when the bonfire unexpectedly flared up a few hours later after everyone had left. As I recall, I looked out my window at the raging fire for a few minutes and then went back to bed – totally unfazed by the fact that this flare-up could burn everything down, including the place I was living. This is yet another example why people on chemo should not live alone. Later I wondered if all the smoke in the air that night is what triggered the near-fatal pneumonia that put me in the hospital about 10 days later.
But the best after-trip was the one that I made two years ago with my parents. It was a week before Mother’s Day. We had taken a picnic and enjoyed it at one of the tables at the edge of the lake at the nursery. Done with lunch, we decided to look at a Japanese Maple nursery located in Santa Rosa. Through a series of events that I am no longer able to reconstruct, we somehow ended up in the kitchen of the nursery owner. We gathered around the countertop and she showed us how she made beans. First she would cook them on the stove top in a cast iron pot for an indeterminate period of time. She told us that she would then put the covered bean pot into a carboard box and stuff newspapers around it. The beans would sit there for several hours more.
She said it never failed.
Sonoma Horticultural Nursery is located at 3970 Azalea Avenue in Sebastopol and is open Thursday thru Monday: 9:00am – 5:00pm (Closed Tuesday & Wednesday). Phone: (707) 823-6832
The Sausalito houseboat pier was lined with a variety of plants. It made for a very pleasing stroll
This originally came to my attention via Facebook and The Tiny House Blog. This fun documentary is about an hour and a half long and visits tiny house dwellers in California, New York, Europe, Hawaii. These tiny house dwellers live in houseboats, caves, converted tool sheds and garages and other unexpected places. All of the dwellings are appealing and fun, and the people interviewed are equally appealing, fun – and eccentric. Just my type.
I have lived in some interesting places. A few years ago I spent a summer in the mountains with a mountain man. We slept in a tiny trailer with a refrigerator and some running water, but no cooking capacities.
The outhouse window faced a beautiful valley
We would drive down the mountain to town for hot tea. The trailer was in a small field. An outhouse stood at the far end with a glorious view of the mountains. An abandoned cottage stood between the outhouse and the trailer, with a working clawfoot bathtub and shower in the unfinished first floor surrounded by windows looking out on the trees, the mountains, the field.
We were always alone up there. In the late afternoon and early evening I would wake the trails with a camera. At night I’d fool with the camera settings while studying the digital camera book. I can say that my lifelong love of photography was finally actualized that summer.
A seagull surveys some neighboring houseboats in Sausalito
I spent 2011 living in a small round yurt-like building in a field. A large skylight overhead and windows all around and although there were curtains, I never closed them. No one could see me and I could see no one. It was a remarkable time in my life, made more remarkable by the fact that while I was living there, I was diagnosed with 4th stage cancer and spent my year there in chemo and then in recovery.
Of late, I took a stroll down one of the piers in Sausalito where the houseboats moor. I don’t know that I would want to spend the rest of my life in a houseboat. While we were walking down the pier that day, we saw quite a few of them getting structural maintenance, living on the water is rough, I think. But I wouldn’t mind spending a year or so on a houseboat – watching the sun rise and set, watching the storms pass through.
It was Easter Sunday and I was a little out of sorts. Had been sleeping heavily for a week or so. I didn’t know if I was fighting off a cold bug or having one of my post chemo waves of fatigue. Whatever it was, it was definitely time to get out of bed. I realized that I hadn’t taken many nature photos since I had gone back to work in February – which was way too long. I grabbed my camera and decided to head out to Petaluma’s Shollenberger Park
As I was walking through the parking lot toward the trail, some guy in a blue car started driving slowly alongside of me, He rolled down his window and we began talking. As we know, this is the way that all classy relationships begin. At one point, he pulled his car over to the side of the road and we had quite the conversation. He told me that it was unusual for him to be at the park at this day and time because he was a musician and usually had a Sunday gig at a local restaurant.
Being that this Sunday was Easter and the restaurant was closed, he decided to go to the park instead. He told me he played rock and roll. I asked him what instrument he played and he said that actually he played all of them, being that he was a one man band. As a point of information, he revealed to me that he straps the cymbals between his knees. He gave me his business card and a CD and asked if he could call me some time. I decided not to give him my number because we all know that men only want one thing.
Actually, the truth of the matter is that men want two things. Cooking and cleaning. And BTW, if you mention that you can do laundry, too, you will have them at “Hello”.
Just some dating advice, ladies. You can thank me later.
This 165-acre park was named after Richard Shollenberger, a Park Department chief. It has become increasingly popular since its opening in 1995. Now, several hundred people visit it daily: walking the family dog, jogging, or just enjoying nature—especially the many species of birds that can be seen here. The park features a two-mile circular trail and a one-mile trail through Alman Marsh to the Petaluma Marina. Via Petaluma Wetlands
Shollenberger Park is part of the Petaluma Wetlands Alliance, a group of people “dedicated to the creation, restoration and stewardship of publicly accessible wetlands and wildlife habitats”.
Lately there has a been a great deal of emotion surrounding Shollenberger. There are plans to rebuild an asphalt plant across the river from the park, a project that has created an outcry of opposition. Shollenberger is immediately bounded on all sides by the Highway 101, the highly trafficked Petaluma River, a quarry, a freeway overpass and a large office park. This area is already industrialized and as a matter of fact, a previous asphalt plant – which was nearby and also on the river – was open and functioning for 25 years until its closure in 2007.
Recently those who oppose the plant got together in protest in an event entitled “Hands Around Shollenberger”. Around 1400 people joined in, and although they were not able to join hands, they were able to encircle the park. Here is the aerial video.
Politics aside, I know Shollenberger as a pleasant two mile walking path alongside the Petaluma River and around the wetland preserves. The looped path is open and flat. About 25% of the path is paved and the rest is is graveled. Parking for Shollenberger is on Cader Lane off of S. McDowell. There are restrooms in the parking lot. There are two more trails that lead to Shollenberger and which add some time, distance and new vistas to the trail. The walk through the Alman Marsh to Shollenberger is 1.5 miles and parking is available at the Sheraton Hotel at the Petaluma Marina. The trail from the Ellis Creek Treatment Plant to Shollenberger is also 1.5 miles. Parking is in a dedicated lot at the east end of Cypress Drive. There are also restrooms.
One of the nicest elements of Shollenberger is the wide variety of birds. On this latest visit, some Canadian geese kept me company on the trail. The singing of the birds co-exists with the hum of the highway and the engines of the delivery trucks pulling in and out of the office and industrial buildings alongside the park. To me, all of it is the sound of peaceful co-existence. All of us, animals included, are very adaptable.
I ran out of steam fairly quickly on this visit and soon was heading back to the car to go home. By the time I returned to the parking lot, the one man band had gone.
A plea for love under the freeway at the Prince Memorial Greenway, Santa Rosa
My friend Paul has been quite the man about town lately. Women mob him at dance halls. They approach him in parking lots and movie theaters. They walk up to him and invite him to events and activities. Strangers in grocery stores want to introduce Paul to their single sisters, nieces, cousins, aunts, mothers and best friends. This phenomenon is happening regularly and with increasing frequency whether or not I am there. The latest humiliation was at a Mardi Gras dance we went to in February. I was full of enthusiasm during the first dance, then started losing steam at the second dance and by the time the third dance rolled around my post-chemo brain kicked in and I couldn’t dance anymore or do much of anything. Not to worry about Paul. Within moments of my slumping over a chair, a woman strolled up to him, tapped him on the shoulder and the next thing I know, he’s back on the dance floor.
SOFA is a brief block of eclectic storefronts and galleries
Recently I brought up the topic of Paul’s burgeoning sex appeal.
“You know Paul, I always told you that you were a good-looking guy.”
“I know that you have said so, but I never really believed it.”
” I think that your visits to the gym are really paying off.”
“I agree, it’s been pretty crazy. Women everywhere! Who knew?”
“You’re also dressing better – and it seems to be very effective in attracting the opposite sex.”
“Yeah, it’s really surprising. Quite good for my ego, actually.”
It seemed like a good moment to release a trial balloon of my own.
“Remember that guy at the Mardi Gras ball – the one that was dressed like a pirate”
Paul stopped preening himself for a minute.
“Yeah? what about him?”
“I think he was hitting on me at the dance.”
Paul threw his mind back to the week before.
“Nah, I was watching him earlier in the evening, I think he was just really high.’
I see.
During cancer and recovery, I was on disability and had a habit of regularly messing up my paperwork (or to quote my late Grandmother’s eastern European accent – “pepper-verk”). When I returned to Sonoma County after chemo was over, I spent a fair amount of time pleading my case at the State Disability office in Santa Rosa. On my trips back home I started noticing this little run of shops and galleries just south of the Santa Rosa Plaza Shopping Mall. The colorful eclectic storefronts and the surrounding neighborhood of vintage homes were a surprise in that particular location, tucked between the mall, the freeway and busy Santa Rosa Avenue. Further investigation revealed that this pocket location is known as the SOFA (South of A Street) Arts District.
I decided that I wanted to check this out and invited Paul to explore with me. He agreed to tear himself away from his exponentially expanding harem and one sunny winter Saturday we headed out.
The Cook House is an old school diner located right in the heart of SOFA
SOFA is little. I mean really little. We are talking about a tiny pocket of storefronts in the one block area starting at Juilliard Park and then slightly creeping up and around Sebastopol Avenue. So don’t go there expecting to spend hours wandering the area. That said, we did end up spending most of the day there. As a matter of fact, we spent so much time in the neighborhood that Paul began to get concerned about having parked his car in a 2 hour street parking space. (Being a true gentleman, he never said a word about it and let me yammer on and on in while we were sitting in a cafe while the time was running out on his parking space.) We returned to the car after about three hours in SOFA (no ticket, thank goodness), left briefly for lunch in downtown Santa Rosa and then came back again for more. Go figure.
Lush, problematic Juilliard Park is immediately adjacent to SOFA
A big part of SOFA’s charm is the surrounding area. Vintage homes (slightly ramshackle – just the way I like them), Juilliard Park and the Prince Memorial Greenway make this area a nice place to wander. SOFA’s lliliputian retail area is home to several galleries, a thrift store, a diner, a cafe and the fabulous Jeremiah’s Photo Corner. Why fabulous? Because they sell Polaroid cameras and the clerk let us paw through piles of Polaroid photos that she had stashed behind the counter. I love Polaroids. No matter what or whom you photograph, the picture always looks like it was taken in 1965.
The garden behind Studios on A. Christie Marks used one of the garden chairs as the prop in her collage, Art and Sole
In addition to the several storefront galleries, one of the most interesting art spots is at The Studios on A, located at 312 S. A Street. This complex houses seven art studios and the Gallery of Sea and Heaven – which is a project of Becoming Independent, an organization that provides support systems to adults with developmental disabilities. Behind the Gallery of Sea and Heaven are a series of art studios along a hallway of what was probably an office
building at one time. Some of studios were open and the artists were working on their projects. At the end of the hallway is a pleasant garden. We met the artist Christie Marks while we were there. She was busy on a table outside working on one of her collage projects. We ended up in her studio looking at her collages, including one named Art and Sole, which was set in the garden where we had been standing. You can see my photograph and Christie’s collage. A bona fide example of art imitating life.
As an extra added bonus, the Santa Rosa branch of the Berkeley Psychic Institute is located near SOFA and to my delight they were having an open house! That very same day! I love psychics! Paul, on the other hand, does not love psychics. So he waited across the street and I wandered through the building. Inside, people were strewn across massage tables and leaning back in chairs while other people waved hands over them. I have since visited the Psychic Institute website and am highly tempted to pursue the Beginning Psychic Skills class. Don’t tell Paul.
It was open house day at the Santa Rosa Branch of the Berkeley Psychic Institute.
We had wanted to stop for lunch in SOFA but the only restaurant was a diner named The Cook House. It looked good for what it was, but since Paul and I are both vegans and The Cook House is heavy on the ham and cheese omelets, we left SOFA for about an hour and went to a downtown Santa Rosa for a late lunch at a Chinese restaurant. We did have something to drink in SOFA at the Atlas Coffee Company, the only other restaurant in the area. Named after the Atlas Alley, where it is located, Atlas Coffee is very hip. Unfortunately, I am not hip. However, I do recognize hip when I see it. And I recognized hip when I saw it at Atlas. I used to be sad that I wasn’t hip. Nowadays I don’t give a rat’s a@@. That said, Atlas Coffee Company is a pleasant place to have a drink and if you don’t want to sit inside, there are tables outside in the sunny courtyard.
Preparing for spring in the Julliard Park Community Garden
Immediately adjacent to SOFA is Juilliard Park. Once home to Santa Rosa’s Juilliard family and the site of their former orchard and Victorian home, the property was given to the City of Santa Rosa in 1931 and reworked into a park. Juilliard Park encompasses several city blocks and is lush and appealing, with ponds, willows, lawns and benches. Unfortunately, because it borders Santa Rosa Avenue, it also attracts nutty guys and worse. The park has never struck me as a place that I would want to stroll through, especially by myself – an outcome that was probably never visualized by the Juilliard family. However, on this beautiful sunny afternoon, the nutty guys were in retreat. Instead, parents and children wandered the pathways, several couples were playing bocce ball in the newly constructed courts, a woman and man were busy cleaning up the community garden, and best of all, an impromptu band was playing under the trees. Here are just the few seconds I was able to record.
Tile work along the retaining wall at the Prince Memorial Greenway
When we returned from our lunch in downtown Santa Rosa, we decided to walk along the Prince Memorial Greenway which starts at Prince Park on Santa Rosa Avenue, parallels Julliard Park and SOFA and then continues west alongside the Santa Rosa Creek, tapering off at Railroad Square. We parked near SOFA again and started walking.The path is pleasant, flat and paved. Although the renovated Greenway only goes as far as Railroad Square, the path along the creek continues. We walked about 45 minutes and then turned around. One could continue all the way to Sebastopol and then Forestville, about 20 miles west. Paul and I decided to ride the pathway on our bikes when the weather is better.
Scaffolding holds up an old brick building in a field alongside the creek
The creek was very pretty and interesting, tile work, murals under the freeway, and the water itself made this a pleasant walk.
Of the whole day, this was probably my favorite part, because there were no distractions and I could talk nonstop. That’s the truth. I’m not going to lie about it.
I’m also not going to lie about the fact that I wouldn’t walk down the Prince Memorial Greenway or the creek pathway by myself. Lots of gang graffiti, and as the sun got lower gang girls came out and started waiting for their gang guys to show up, nutty guys and nuttier ladies appeared from the underbrush, shady characters flew by on bicycles. Paul is six feet tall, burly, and carries a big walking stick. So he was totally protected from bands of marauding females wanting to get better acquainted. I, as usual, was completely safe because I am invisible to everyone except drug addled pirates.
A few months ago our son decided to move to New York City to start a new life with his beautiful, wonderful partner. Having him close by in San Francisco while I was going through chemo had been great, but by the fall I was finished with chemo and it was time for him to stop worrying about Mom and start exploring the world and all it had to offer.
The night before we were due to take him to the airport, Joshua and I drove down to San Francisco to take him out for one last dinner together. We asked him where he thought he’d like to go, and he suggested we wander Union Street and find something there. I had never been to Union Street, so the whole adventure sounded quite intriguing.
Lush on Union Street
We had wonderful dinner in a restaurant there which I can’t remember because I was still pretty chemo-headed at the time. I do remember having fish tacos however. The evening was sultry and after dinner we decided to walk up and down Union Street and see what was going on. The streets and the restaurants were crowded with people, most of them young. Union Street had a happy, prosperous energy. I told Joshua that I wanted to come back at some point during the day so I could explore the street and take some photos. He agreed that it could be a fun field trip.
The shops on Union Street are located in all sorts of eclectic buildings. Reaching this picturesque stationary store and garden required going through a pedestrian tunnel.
At that point, it had been a little over a year since I had gone to the Covelo Blackberry Festival and where I had my fortune told for the first time. The Covelo fortune tellers had told me that something big would happen that upcoming February and we tossed around some ideas about what that could be. They had told me not to make any significant changes in my life until that time. Surprisingly, I had decided to heed their advice and avoided several opportunities for change with the exception of my January 2011 move to the yurt in the field. When February rolled around, I thought about the fortune tellers again and wondered what they had in mind when they told me that February would bring about huge changes. I soon found out. By day’s end on February 4th I was diagnosed with what would turn out to be 4th stage cancer and I started chemo on February 28th.
Well, indeed.
Union Street is lined with trees and other greenery
So when I saw the lighted sign for a “fortune teller” near the end of Union Street by Gough, I suggested to Joshua and my son that we go in and check it out. We went up the stairs only to be informed that the psychic had left for an hour (What? She didn’t know we were coming? What kind of psychic is that?)
Joshua and I were totally excited about the psychic and decided that we would come back later that evening and have a reading. Our son was less than enthused but has grown used to the increasingly bizarre behaviors exhibited by his parents. We passed the interim by walking Union Street and stopping for coffee at Starbucks. Nine PM arrived and we went up the steps into the remarkable waiting room. White Louis 14th style brocade sofas and pink walls and a red carpet. Louis 14th sculptures doubled as lamps and sat by the fireplace. The room was spotlessly clean. The effect was quite spectacular. A football game was playing on the overhead TV.
Restaurants and shops pop out of alleyways and other unexpected places up and down Union Street
I was expecting a small, plump Romanian woman to appear, most likely with a bun of dyed black hair and a heavy Eastern European accent. Imagine my surprise when a tall, trim attractive woman of indeterminate age appeared in the room and introduced herself. The psychic had long blond hair in a ponytail and was dressed entirely in black. She had a southern accent. Both Joshua and I had separate sessions costing $25 each. It was quite revelatory.
You are probably wondering what the psychic told us and how we used that information to determine our future actions. Well, I am not going to tell you.
Flash forward a few months to this January. I was having my PET scan early one weekday morning and Joshua offered to give me a ride. This quarterly event (full body scan looking for signs of cancer) takes about two hours and is met with increasing anxiety as the appointment draws closer. It also requires fasting and my request after the morning scan was to go out to breakfast, followed by a return trip to Union Street.
Eclectic, fun architecture is a hallmark of Union Street
Post scan breakfast in Petaluma ended up being an extraordinarily complicated and time consuming endeavor. We unsuccessfully milled around a diner for awhile and then tried a cafe where my entree (pancakes) was wonderful, but the side order of avocado looked like it had gone through the washer and dryer. After mutually vowing to go straight to IHOP next time we were looking for breakfast in Petaluma, we set out for San Francisco.
Union Street runs almost the entire east-west width of San Francisco, from the Bay to the Presidio. The origin of its name is unknown. Rock band fans will be interested to know that the Jefferson Airplane was conceived right here when Marty Balin first met guitarist Paul Kantner at a Union Street bar in 1965.
One pill makes you larger
And one pill makes you small
And the ones that mother gives you
Don’t do anything at all
Go ask Alice
When she’s ten feet tall
I think we’ve all had days like that. With exponentially increasing frequency, I might add. But enough about me.
Tables set up for outdoor dining on Union Street
Although Union Street is very long, we kept our explorations to the business district located between Steiner and Gough streets. Restaurants, cafes, interior decorating stores, boutiques, flower shops, pet stores, psychics and more. The sidewalks are lined with tables and by the time lunch rolled around all those tables were filled. The unseasonably warm weather didn’t hurt. Evergreen trees grow along the curbside and the thickly leafed branches add an inviting feel to the street.
Eclectic architecture is a Union Street feature. We followed an long tunnel under a building that took us from Union Street to the back where we discovered a charming stationary shop at the end of the pathway through secret garden. An Italian restaurant is accessible via gates through a tree and plant lined alley. Shops pop out of conventional storefronts, down alleys, up stairs and in sudden little hole in the walls.
The Octagon House
One point of particular interest is the Octagon House, which is located on the corner of Union and Gough. A repository of Colonial and Federalist papers and artifacts, the home was rescued from disrepair in 1951 by The National Society of The Colonial Dames of America in California. Visiting times at the Octagon House are limited and I suggest calling the Octagon House for information about visiting hours at (415) 441-7412.
The Old Vedanta Temple
While we were walking down Union Street, something caught my eye a block west. A huge corner building. The bottom half of the building was typical San Francisco turn of the last century with bay windows and other typical architectural characteristics of the time. However the top half was something else altogether. Ornate arches and an intriguing gallery walkway circled around the third floor. Ornate and eclectic domes punched upwards from the roof. It warranted a walk down the street. There is no indication outside the building as to what was going on inside, outside of a side doorway with some lettering in an unknown language. Later research revealed that this was the old Vedanta Temple, said to be the first Hindu Temple in the Western Hemisphere. The first two stories were built in 1905, and in 1907-08, Swami Trigunathiandaji decided to add the fascinating third floor and domes. In 1959, “New” Vedanta Temple was dedicated at Fillmore and Vallejo Streets. The Old Temple continues to serve the community as a dormitory, lecture hall, and classroom site. Unfortunately, no tours are available at this time.
Our wanderings came to an end. Because of our late breakfast, we opted out of having lunch in Union Street, although there was no shortage of great cafes and restaurants to choose from. Each time we have been to Union Street we have been able to find street parking. It’s metered at $0.25 per 8 minutes, typical for the city.
We found the car and headed back across the bay to Sonoma County.
Even in the middle of winter, there is plenty of fresh produce
It’s January – and although it’s been a dry winter so far, that hasn’t kept the chill away, especially at night. Cooking and baking have been a favorite cold weather activity at the house. I have started making homemade pizzas and recently purchased some Roma tomatoes at the grocery store to use as a topping. When I got the tomatoes home and started cutting them up, I found out that they were as hard as stones and equally as tasteless. I don’t know what I was expecting, it’s January for goodness sakes!
The experience with the tomatoes got me thinking anew about a book I had read several years ago. Author Barbara Kingsolver and her family decided to move to a farm and only eat what they and their neighbors produced and grew. This of course included eating fresh produce in season. Their year was chronicled in Animal, Vegetable, Miracle. The book was fascinating, but at the time the concept of living that way seemed a little absurd and unrealistic.
Something is always growing on the farm
However, those stony little tomatoes gave me pause for thought. I decided that I needed to open my mind to the concept of trying out different types of seasonal produce and seeing what was available right now. It was time to make a commitment to more imaginative cooking, food in its seasonal prime and local agriculture. With that in mind I found myself heading out to Petaluma’s Green String Farm for some culinary inspiration. Although Green String Farm sells a great deal of its produce and fruit to the restaurant industry, they also maintain an on-site store and savvy Petaluma cooks make regular pilgrimages to purchase the best fresh food that the season has to offer.
Green String Farm was founded in 2003 by Bob Cannard, a small-scale farmer well-known for providing produce to Alice Waters’ Chez Panisse restaurant in Berkeley and by Fred Cline, who owns Cline Cellars and Jacuzzi Family Vineyards and who oversees hundreds of acres of vineyard. Espousing eco-friendly principles, Green String Farmers invest a love of agriculture and a love of the land into their farming practices.
Peppers drying in the Green String Farm Greenhouse
Located on the outskirts of Petaluma at the corner of Frates Road and Old Adobe Road, Green String Farm encompasses 140 acres, of which 50-60 acres are in cultivation at any given time. After parking, I checked in at the store and then wandered the grounds for a spell. Located at the base of the Sonoma Mountains, the farm site is picturesque and on this mild mid-January afternoon, several artists had set out easels and were interpreting the winter landscape.
Although the trees were bare, some of the fields alongside the road had fennel and greens tentatively poking out of the ground. Flats of strawberries, greens and other vegetable starts were laid out on long tables outside the greenhouse. Inside the greenhouse peppers and walnuts were laying out to dry. In a nearby pen, fat chickens clucked and preened themselves, jumping on and off the long perches.
Lots to choose from inside the Green String Farm Store
Though it was winter, there was plenty to choose from at the farm store. Greens, beets and winter squash overflowed the bins. I wandered through the rows of fresh produce and happily loaded my bag with kale and chard, some leeks and cauliflower. Inside the cozy little store, warmed by a wood-burning stove, I grabbed up a handful of potatoes from one of the barrels. Eggs are also available for purchase, as well as dried herbs, and beef and cheese. One of the store walls is lined with colorful jars of canned produce from the farm: relishes, sauces and jams. In the corner by the door, customers can fill up bottles of olive oil directly from the keg, or grind up some wheat berries for flour in the old fashioned mill.
The scene of the crime - soon to be turned into persimmon bread!
I was feeling good about my purchases, but I didn’t feel I was quite done. Then I saw the persimmons. Insanely bright, they were ripe and ready for….something. I had never eaten a persimmon or cooked with persimmons, but there is no time like the present, right? I thought about the bananas I was planning to buy at the grocery store so I could make banana bread but buying these in-season fruit from a local farm suddenly seemed like a better idea. I threw several in the bag and went home to make some persimmon bread.
Green String Farm can be found on Facebook, which is a good way to keep up with the farm activities and programs. Green String Farm is open winter: 10am – 5pm daily, summer: 10am – 6pm daily and closed major holidays. They are located at 3571 Old Adobe Road, Petaluma, CA 94954. Phone: (707) 778-7500
Persimmon Bread
Juice of one small lemon
4 ripe persimmons
½ teaspoon vanilla
½ cup brown sugar
½ cup margarine or butter
2 cups flour
½ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
½ teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon pumpkin pie spice
Handful of walnut pieces or sliced almonds
Dense, moist and delicious
Preheat oven to 375.
Peel and mash persimmons with lemon juice and add vanilla
Cream butter and brown sugar together and combine with persimmon mixture
In a separate bowl stir the dry ingredients together, add to the persimmon mix.
The dough will be stiff. Turn into a greased loaf pan and press the nuts into the top of the loaf. Bake for 30-45 minutes or until a knife inserted into the loaf comes out clean.
This moist dense loaf is delicious when warm and right out of the oven or the next morning when the flavors have settled. We don’t know how it is after that because neither of the ones that I baked lasted long enough to tell!
It was midweek and I hadn’t seen my friend Bruce for awhile. Readers of this blog will recall that in 2010, Bruce, my friend Teresa, and I had taken a road trip north up U.S.Route 101 through Northern California and into Oregon. We had multiple adventures and finished our trip at the Rogue River for a day long boat ride.
Now a year and a half later, Bruce and I decided to take a shorter trip – just for the day – and go somewhere neither of us had been before. So that’s how we ended up heading south on California State Route 1.
Our trip started in Sebastopol, where until recently, I had been living in a yurt in a field. Bruce had been one of my first guests at the yurt. He had come to visit me about a week after I had moved in and the day after I found out I had cancer. I had cooked him breakfast and then we walked around the fields surrounding the yurt. It had been an unseasonably warm, sultry day for February so after our walk we had taken a seat at the picnic table outside. That was when I told him about my diagnosis. He had hugged me and told me that although it would be a rough ride, he felt that I would eventually recover. He was right on both counts.
Over this last year of chemo and recovery, Bruce has been a regular visitor at the yurt, with just about every visit starting with homemade pancakes.
So it seemed fitting that almost one year after that first visit, as I am leaving the yurt and Sebastopol, Bruce should be one of my final guests and that we should sit and have pancakes again.
We chatted for awhile and then hit the road. From Sebastopol, Bruce got onto Highway 1. How that was accomplished, I am not sure, because I was talking instead of paying attention.
We drove through ranch lands and woods, passing by the small towns of Tomales and Marshall (note to self – we saw a nice cafe in Marshall with outdoor seating facing the Tomales Bay that Bruce and I are planning to try for breakfast next time).
I have particular warmth towards Marshall because it is the home of the Straus Family
Dairy and Creamery, which is run by my friends, the Albert Straus family. The Straus family established the dairy in 1941 and made a commitment to sustainability and stewardship of the land after owner and matriarch Ellen Straus read the book Silent Spring in the 1960′s. Son Albert Straus took the dairy to the next level when in 1994 the farm became the first certified organic dairy west of the Mississippi River. Straus dairy products include ice cream, butter, yogurt, and milk in glass bottles.
Straus Milk Bottle used as Vase
The Straus glass milk bottles have become iconic. A few years ago, I was visiting a friend of mine who had gone to live in Saco, Maine. One of the first things I saw in her new home was a Straus milk bottle used as a vase. More recently, during my visit to Sea Ranch, I stepped into the bathroom at the Sea Ranch Lodge and saw another Straus milk bottle being used as a vase in there. The bottles are so much fun that not all of them get returned for reuse as milk bottles!
The Straus matriarch, Ellen Straus, was the co-founder of MALT – the Marin Agricultural Land Trust, which has permanently protected nearly half of the farmland in Marin County, including much of the beautiful scenery that we passed by on our trip down the 1. Here is how it all got started from the MALT website.
In the early 1970s, increased coastal development and plans for a city with a population of 125,000 people on the shores of Tomales Bay were just some of the ideas being proposed for the future of western Marin County, located about 40 miles north of San Francisco. The developments would have ended a 150-year-old tradition of family farming and permanently degraded many of the natural resource treasures of the area, but change seemed inevitable.
In a unique alliance, Marin ranchers and environmentalists came together to fight the development proposals. Ranching was given a second chance through a combination of restrictive zoning, land use regulations, active support for ranching by County government, and the establishment of Marin Agricultural Land Trust’s (MALT) agricultural conservation easement program. “We felt MALT was an opportunity to be part of something really important to the future of Marin County,” said MALT founder and dairywoman Ellen Straus, who died in 2002. Since its birth, the organization has permanently preserved over 44,100 acres of farmland that might otherwise have been sold or developed.
“What we’ve learned,” adds wetlands biologist and co-founder Phyllis Faber, “is that you can have a vision of what you want the future to look like, and you can make it happen.” Former Marin County Supervisor Gary Giacomini, who served on the founding board of directors would agree, “It’s glorious to be involved in an effort that lasts forever,” he said.
Marin Agricultural Land Trust
Post Office Box 809
Point Reyes Station CA 94956
415-663-1158 farmland@malt.org
After passing through Marshall our wanderings took us through the tiny town of Point Reyes Station followed by Olema.
We had both started wondering when we would actually see the ocean. At the town of Stinson we know we were close, the town is home to Stinson Beach, after all. But we didn’t want to get involved with the complexities of checking in at the park. We wanted views. We knew they were close, but we didn’t know how close. However, within a few moments of passing through Stinson the road started to rise and as we turned a corner, the ocean suddenly appeared to our right. The sky was beautiful and clear. The beach below was empty. It was exactly what we had come for.
Stinson Beach
We stopped the car at the first turnout and got out. We were soon joined by a very cute young couple. They told us that they had gotten married five days earlier in Nashville and were on the grand tour of California for their honeymoon. The groom had never seen the ocean. I took their photo against that backdrop of Stinson Beach below and then they took ours. They were so happy – in love and full of hope. It was quite adorable. We wished them well and then parted company.
A Base End Station at the Muir Beach Overlook
Highway 1 got scary to me at this point, because of my fear of heights. But I wasn’t driving, thank goodness, and it didn’t seem to affect Bruce. We took another stop at the Muir Beach Overlook, which is the home of four Base End Stations. These little concrete huts were used by soldiers in WWII to spot enemy ships. There was a funny story related on one of the display stands. Evidently a request was put in to dispatch heavy boots and fur lined parkas to the soldiers stationed at the Muir Beach Overlook. The folks at procurement wondered why the Muir Beach Overlook team needed those types of supplies while soldiers stationed just a few miles away were requesting shorts. The answer was “you have evidently never lived in the Bay Area”.
After examining the Base End Stations, Bruce and I took the walkway to the edge of the bluff and admired the ocean, the views. I thought about that young couple again and how lucky I was to live in California.
The walkway to the Muir Beach Overlook
We hopped back in the car. This subsequent section of Highway 1 is desolate and very high and winding. No me gusta, as they say in Spanish. However, it did not scare me enough to stop me from continuing to talk. Nothing scares me that much. From time to time we saw houses so evidently people live up there. I can’t see it, quite frankly. I’m too social to live in such isolation (Really?). I also don’t know how those roads are navigable in the rain or at night. Sorry, not my thing.
At one point, the road drops down and winds around a lagoon. The water was almost at the same level as the road, which was an odd feeling. Am not sure exactly where that happened because, quite frankly, I was still talking.
There wasn’t a lot of time to acclimate from the isolated road that we had been driving on and the sudden appearance of housing tracts, apartment complexes, traffic signs and freeway on and off ramps. Suddenly we were smack in the middle of urban living. At that point, we were very close to Sausalito and decided to stop there to have lunch. We entered a cafe on the main drag and after sitting down in one of the booths it was announced to us by the waitress that it was closing time. So we got up and left. We got back in the car and decided that what we really wanted was Chinese food, so we dropped in on two different Chinese restaurants that we had passed while coming into Sausalito. Both were closed. Perhaps all of these Sausalito restaurants had heard of my dining adventures on the Mendocino Coast and wanted no part of it.
We decided to head back north and try our luck in Petaluma. It was the right decision as we had a wonderful Chinese meal at Jenny Low’s. Not only were they open, but they also gave us the lunch menu even though it was almost 4:00 pm at that point.
We spent a fair amount of time at Jenny Low’s, where I continued to talk non stop. Eventually, Bruce got me out of the restaurant, into the car, and drove me home. I presume that the rest of Bruce’s evening and possibly part of the next day was spent trying to rid his head of the sound of my voice, but that’s another blog post.
This post is about a long weekend spent on the Mendocino coast.
Of course there is a cancer story that goes along with this. Lately there is a cancer story involved in everything I do. Perhaps one day I will go on a trip with no cancer story, but that is a different life and I am not there yet.
Cancer story: Had my three month PET scan. The oncologist called me after the scan and asked me if I was breathing OK. (I was breathing fine until you called me, doctor! Now I can’t breathe at all!) Diagnosis: new tumor on the aorta. A call for a surgical biopsy including removing part of the rib to reach the tumor, several days in the hospital, several weeks of recuperation, during which time I was requested to schedule a bone marrow biopsy. Treatment? Most likely chemo again. We don’t need to dwell on the ensuing drama.
Two weeks later a phone call from the oncologist. “Never mind, it was a mistaken diagnosis. An unusual case of something else mascarading as cancer. My bad!”
I was sitting in my workplace when this happened. Here’s the sequence of events: 1) Got the news. 2) Texted my nearest and dearest. 3) Excused myself in front of my co-workers. 4) Fell onto the ground.
After I peeled myself up, the first thing I thought was “Yaay! Time for another road trip!”
So Yosemite friend Paul and I hit the road. Things had gone so smoothly on our last trip that we decided to tempt fate and leave town together again. Paul brought up the idea of the Mendocino Coast. Sounded good to me. So we headed up for Veteran’s Day weekend.
We took CA State Route 128 to Fort Bragg – the same road I took with Joshua when we went to Yorkville, Boonville and Philo over Labor Day weekend. It is the perfect road for an acrophobic (referring to myself) because although 128 does eventually merge into Highway 1, the merge happens after the terrifying coastal cliffhanging part of Highway 1. There are additional terrifying coastal cliffhanging parts north of Fort Bragg, but that’s another story.
We rolled into town around lunchtime. There was a small drama upon arrival as Paul momentarily confused our Super 8 motel with another Fort Bragg motel he had previously stayed at where things had gone terribly wrong. Fortunately he was mistaken. That motel was across the street.
A Raw Food Cafe experience followed by a Fast Food Garden of Eden
After getting settled at the Super 8 (which in my world translates to opening the motel room door and kicking my cardboard box full of clothes across the floor) we got back into the car and started searching for lunch. Paul is a vegan and wanted us to try a raw food cafe in Fort Bragg named Living Light. By way of definition, veganism is vegetarianism without any animal products – no dairy and no honey. Raw food takes veganism a step further. Raw foodists believe that high heat cooking destroys nutritional value and nothing is heated any higher than 104 to 115 degrees Fahrenheit. All I can say is if the point of this raw food excursion was to make regular veganism look wild, crazy and positively hedonistic, well, then, mission accomplished!
That evening – as a reward for my good behavior at the raw food restaurant – Paul graciously consented to having dinner at the Fort Bragg Round Table Pizza.
The Fort Bragg Botanical Gardens and Glass Beach
After our raw food lunch, we hopped back in the car and headed to the Mendocino Coast Botanical Gardens. The gardens cover 47 acres, starting at Highway One and ending at the coast. The landscape transforms from formal gardens and a greenhouse, to heaths, to forests and creeks, finally ending at the bluffs themselves.The best way to see the gardens is to start at the lawn, rimmed by plants, flowers, benches and a small pond. From that point, paths zigzag across the property, revealing different planting areas and large artistic sculptures tucked in and around the plants, bushes and trees.
There is bloom and color year round, and on this November day, the Mae E. Lauer Display House was full of bright begonias and fuchsias. Nearby, softly colored heather was pruned into undulating mounds, as a fiery Japanese Maple stood guard.
As the formal garden areas fell away, our walk took us alongside fern filled creeks, under trees and over footbridges as we continued towards the ocean. At one point we ended up at the graveyard of the Parrish Family homesteaders and the botanical garden vegetable patch. We eventually reached the bluffs and after taking some photos, I took a nap on a nearby bench. Chemo brain dies hard!
The bench where I took my nap, Mendocino Botanical Gardens
The Botanical Gardens did not disappoint, even at this time of year. Nonetheless, the low winter light, the natural landscape, the deserted creeks and pathways, the fall vegetables in the garden, the trees turning orange and red, and of course the ocean, made for a spooky and magical experience.
Our next stop was Glass Beach. Evidently once a public dump site, broken glass tossed out there over the previous decades now washes up onto the beach – shiny and polished. Paul poked around with his walking stick and found a tiny piece of glass to give me as a souvenir, which was very sweet. A few weeks later, I came across a warning from the Mendocino Visitor’s Center asking people to not remove glass from Glass Beach. Sorry! We didn’t know!
Lots of beautiful views of the water, sky and shore at Glass Beach
Glass Beach can be a little difficult to find. A small road sign directed us from Main Street to a semi-industrial area for parking. The walk to the beach is flat and easy and as we were leaving, people were starting to gather for the sunset. We didn’t stay because we were tired after the drive and hungry for dinner so we headed out to the aforementioned Round Table Pizza. Back at the motel, I took a long hot bath followed by a deep, dreamless sleep…
Van Damme State Park
The trees are straight and tall in Van Damme State Park
Paul had mentioned an interesting hike he had taken many years ago in nearby Van Damme State Park, so the next morning we loaded up on bagels and apples from the Super 8 continental breakfast bar to check it out. Our seven mile round trip hike began in Fern Canyon with the Pygmy Forest being the turnaround point. This is a hike for strong walkers only as the walk up to the Pygmy Forest is very steep. At one point a creek passes over the trail and we had to walk on a log to get to the other side. Perhaps at other times of the year the park is busier, but on this particular Saturday the trail was isolated and I would not think to walk it alone. Plus it’s more fun to hike with a friend!
Long Hike Bathroom Alert: There is some camping in Fern Canyon and a couple of camping outhouses. I suggest using them because there aren’t any further bathroom options on the way up to the Pygmy Forest or at the Pygmy Forest.
The November weather meant that the route was damp, lush and green. Water flowed in the creek. There were multiple places where trees had crashed down over the trail. Some of the fallen trees arched over the trail, others had been sawed in half to open up the path.
The cool wet weather brought lots of mushrooms. I have never seen so many types of mushrooms in one place in my life – among them large bright yellow half globes, tiny pumpkin colored buttons, even a mushroom that looked like coral. Mendocino County is home to over 3000 mushroom varieties and in November they celebrate with the Mendocino Wine and Mushroom Festival. Here is the slideshow of mushrooms I observed in Van Damme and several other locations during our time in Mendocino County.
The trees are dry and stunted in the Pygmy Forest
The Pygmy Forest has a certain sideshow charm. The traditional forest ends abruptly at the top of the hill and is replaced by a parched, dry, windy landscape filled with ancient stunted, wizened, dusty little trees. This is the Pygmy Forest, where centuries of poor soil conditions have created this shrunken landscape. An elevated boardwalk meanders through the forest. Although we hiked there, the Pygmy Forest is also accessible by car. Although at first glance the Pygmy Forest appears to be lifeless and withered, it is the only place during our entire hike that I heard birds sing.
The way back down the hill to Fern Canyon was quicker but it was still almost four o’clock when we got to the car. All told, the entire hike took us about 6 hours, as we stopped frequently for rests, snacks and pictures of mushrooms.
A mishap followed by Redemption
I had mentioned to Paul that there was a local vegetarian restaurant with vegan options, so we decided we would stop there for a well-deserved dinner.
Oops.
I knew the second that we walked in the lobby that we were in the wrong place. It was twinkly and cinnamon-y and so very pretty. Everyone and everything was pretty in there. We – on the other hand – were post-hike. I think Paul came in with his walking stick and I had taken off my hat upon entering. I shouldn’t have done that but sometimes I forget how I look. Not everyone is used to seeing my post chemo mental hospital escapee hair. I suddenly felt like a freak. The staff told us the restaurant hours and then asked us if we needed any help and then Paul said something and they said something and I don’t remember what was said and continuing to be said because I got really, really nervous and intimidated and wanted to run away. There was too much twinkling, too much cinnamon, too much condescension, too much of everything.
I don’t handle myself with the same confidence that I did before chemo. If I am tired or in an unfamiliar situation, I don’t know how to handle myself at all. Paul felt none of this. He would have been happy to have stayed. All I know is that I didn’t like it there. I didn’t feel good there. I wanted to run away.
Vegan Dinner at Lee's Chinese Restaurant, Fort Bragg
Fortunately, the restaurant was not yet open for dinner, so we could flee and we did – to Lee’s Chinese Restaurant in downtown Fort Bragg, where we had a wonderful vegan Chinese dinner and the waitress didn’t care what we looked like after a day of hiking and I felt fine looking like a mental hospital escapee and the food and the hot tea was absolutely delicious.
After dinner we strolled down the street and got a bagful of fresh baked cookies at the Mendocino Cookie Company and ate some on the spot and ate the others later. It was a very happy ending.
The road home with some side trips
We left the Super 8 in mid morning. Having discovered that I had forgotten my powdered hot chocolate at home (as you can tell, I have very highbrow tastes), I strolled down to the nearest Starbucks and enjoyed some hot chocolate there before our departure. When I came back, Paul and I raided the motel room refrigerator, finished our leftovers and then hit the road.
Our first stop:Jughandle State Reserve right off Highway one and a mile north of Caspar. The reserve features a 5 mile round trip hike named the Ecological Staircase, This phenomenon consists of five terraces, each one about 100,000 years older and about 100 feet higher than the one below it. Although it looked interesting, we decided to leave that hike for another day. We did take the brief stroll to the bluffs and back, stopping in small forest by the parking lot where the tree branches tangled together like a scene out of Hansel and Gretel.
Requisite moody artistic shot of abandoned door with ivy growing over it.
Our next stop was the tiny picturesque town of Caspar. On this Sunday morning, this quiet coastal town was even quieter.
In spite of its peaceful demeanor, Caspar has a great deal of life to it. Fliers at the Caspar Community Center advertised dance lessons, community dinners and fundraisers. Caspar is also home to the Caspar Headland State Reserve. We didn’t stay long in Caspar but before we left, I made Paul stop several times so that I could take some artistic photos of abandoned buildings and doors with ivy growing over them. Because every once in awhile you need to take an artistic photo of an abandoned building with ivy growing over it. Don’t lie to me or yourself. You’ve done it too.
Our next stop was the Point Cabrillo Lighthouse, right down the road from Casper. We parked in the lot and headed down the trail. This pleasant meadow walk takes about 25 minutes. The alternative route is a paved driveway that goes past several historical buildings, including the lighthouse keepers home. Both routes start at the parking lot. I am glad that we missed the paved route going down, because the path through the meadow made me feel that I was there a hundred years ago, as if we had discovered the lighthouse by chance during a walk to the ocean.
The view of the Point Cabrillo Lighthouse from across the meadow
Point Cabrillo was opened for business in 1909 and Coast Guard members and their families continued living on the grounds until the Point Cabrillo was absorbed into the California State Coastal Conservancy in 1992. In 2002, ownership was transferred to the California State Parks. A series of grants and funding agreements allowed the restoration of the lighthouse and lenses and the historic outlying buildings.Here is the history of the lense mechanism from the Point Cabrillo website.
The Point Cabrillo Lighthouse Lense
The light tower houses a third order, British-built Fresnel lens by Chance Bros., with a range of 13-15 miles. The lens was originally powered by a kerosene oil lamp. There are only 2 other British-built lenses in operation in the U.S. today: A 1st Order lens at Heceta Head Lighthouse in Oregon, and a 2nd Order range light (“fixed”) at Battery Point, Staten Island, New YorkOriginally the lens rotated by means of a clockworks mechanism with a descending weight. A chain with a 65-80 LB weight on the end of it passed through the floor of each level of the light tower. The light keeper would crank up the chain onto a drum every 2 hours. At some point, a portion of the concrete foundation on the ground floor was removed to add an additional 4-5 feet to the chain, gaining (perhaps) an additional ten minutes between windings. The clockworks were replaced with an electric motor and the oil lamp with a light bulb when electricity was introduced at the Station in 1935.The lens rotated at a fixed speed and produced a flash at ten second intervals. The rotation pattern of a lighthouse is printed on the nautical chart, it’s the lighthouse “signature” and must not vary.The main part of the structure is called the “fog signal building”. It housed two pairs of engines and compressors that created a siren using compressed air. A head keeper and two assistants rotated shifts to keep the light burning and the compressors powered. They also cleaned and painted and kept the lens and station machinery in working order. The lighthouse service gave them each a house for their family and a yearly salary of $450-$600 and they raised crops and livestock. In 1973, the Fresnel lens was disengaged, and an aero-marine type rotating beacon was mounted on the roof of the fog signal building. The original lens remained in the lantern room but the clockworks and fog signal machinery were removed.
The Point Cabrillo Lighthouse
There is a small children’s marine center in one of the outbuildings and a gift shop in the lighthouse itself. The staff was friendly and informative. One of the lighthouse keeper’s houses is open to the public and furnished in the style of the day. Adjacent structures are rented out as vacation homes. Point Cabrillo is also set up as a wedding venue and ceremonies can be performed either in the lighthouse or at the bluffs.
Last year at about this time, I had an opportunity to go to the lighthouse at the Point Reyes National Seashore. There are over 300 steps to get down to the lighthouse itself and that particular location is one of the foggiest, coldest and windiest places on the coast. The Point Reyes Lighthouse location is also very isolated from neighboring communities. Living on the Point Reyes lighthouse grounds and maintaining the lighthouse functions was a very brutal lifestyle.
Replica kitchen in the Point Cabrillo Lighthouse Keeper Home
By comparison, the Point Cabrillo Lighthouse is on flat ground and easily walkable from the lighthouse homes. In the Lighthouse store and museum there were photos of lighthouse families over the years along with snippets of their stories. Point Cabrillo appears to have been quite compatible with family living. Never really thought about the relative merits of living and working in one lighthouse versus another, but it stands to reason that there were probably some postings which were easier than others, even though all of them involved tough, highly responsible work.
We strolled back up the paved driveway to the parking lot and decided it was time for lunch.
While flipping through the various tourist magazines we had picked up on the road, we saw an ad and a menu for the Mendocino Cafe in downtown Mendocino. Paul saw a vegan dish that looked good so we decided to go there for lunch. Although the inside of the restaurant was appealing and cozy, the weather was so beautiful that we were able to sit outside on the deck and eat.
After lunch, Paul listened to the football game on the car radio and I wandered the streets of Mendocino for awhile, noticing the large number of water towers in town. Here is the scoop on that:
Early settlers were blessed with plentiful water supplies from nearby creeks and rivers, which facilitated the luxury of piped water into the house. All one needed was a windmill tall enough to catch coastal breezes to power the pumps, and a tank positioned high enough to provide adequate water pressure www.mendocinofun.com/mendocino-history
Upon my return, we checked out the Mendocino Bay Overlook for some last photos of the Mendocino Bay.
Paul took this beautiful photo of the town of Mendocino from across the Mendocino Bay
Photography done, we jumped back in the car and headed down Highway 1 back home. As per my previous trip on Highway 1 for the Sea Ranch weekend, there was again a cow on the road – on a blind curve, no less. Was it the same cow as before? Perhaps.
As we passed by ranches, small towns, graveyards, coastal bluffs, and another brief lighthouse sighting at Point Arena, we kept our eye on the sun. At some point, along the coast, the moment was right and Paul pulled his car to the side of the road. The sun was setting over the ocean and we watched it go down. The rest of our trip was in darkness. We didn’t talk much, we didn’t have to.
A few days after Thanksgiving, I rode down to Huntington Beach in a compact car with my daughter, her fiance, a small boudoir chair and a large Persian Rug. My daughter has had very odd luck with cars. Terrible things happen to them but fortunately she is always OK. Here are some of her adventures.
Tire blowout while she was driving North on Highway 5
Transmission blowout at an unspecified location in SoCal
Rear ended in parking lot
Being number 3 in a 4 car pileup at a signalized intersection
Having her car immersed in a flash flood while she was driving in it on the Pacific Coast Highway
So, it was time for a new car. Well, not exactly new. With a track record like that why on earth would she ever want to get a new car? Actually, it was my son’s old car which he no longer needed. The handover took place over the Thanksgiving weekend and off we went for a few days down south.
We left town at 5 am (why, you ask, at 5 am? I am not sure.)
One of the only major cities that the I-5 does not cross through is San Francisco.
According to the Caltrans website, the dedication for the completion of I-5 took place on October 12, 1979. The antecedents of I-5 are significantly more ancient.
An extensive section of this highway (over 600 miles (970 km)), from approximately Stockton, California, to Portland, Oregon, follows very closely the track of the Siskiyou Trail.[5] This trail was based on an ancient network of Native American footpaths connecting the Pacific Northwest with California’s Central Valley. By the 1820s, trappers from the Hudson’s Bay Company were the first non-Native Americans to use the route of today’s I-5 to move between today’s Washington State and California. During the second half of the 19th century, mule trains, stagecoaches, and the Central Pacific railroad also followed the route of the Siskiyou Trail.[5] By the early 20th century, pioneering automobile roads were built along the path of the Siskiyou Trail, notably the Pacific Highway. The Pacific Highway ran from British Columbia to San Diego, California, and was the immediate predecessor of much of U.S. Route 99. The route of U.S. 99 was in turn used as a basis for much of the route of today’s I-5.
This is what dawn looks like on the I-5 as we zoom down the road.
When I was a kid, our parents took us to Mexico and Disneyland on I-5. The only sign of life that I can remember was Kettleman City, the halfway point between Los Angeles and San Francisco. We spent the night in a motel room there. Ironically, the next time I would find myself on I-5 would be on a road trip with my own children to Disneyland. Many years had elapsed between the two trips and it was astonishing how many roadside towns and commercial zones had sprung up in the interim.
We hit heavy fog before we got on the 5 and thankfully my daughter’s fiance is a fearless and careful driver. Heavy fog and low visibility often characterize parts of the 5. Where it was not foggy, the early morning sun pulled the dry low hills into sharp relief. I wondered what it would be like to spend a year photographing this incredible landscape, the flatlands, the orchards, the fast food restaurants and truck stops, the low rolling hills with their shallow and shadowed valleys, the delicate color gradations of the parched fields. It probably would be a pretty cool project, actually.
The first BBQ of the day at the Harris Ranch
But there is no place to pull over, just the relentless forward motion of cars. We stopped here and there at rest stops, saving ourselves all the while for breakfast at the Harris Ranch. Although originally a cotton and grain operation, the Harris Ranch is now California’s biggest beef producer, and according the ever helpful Wikipedia, producing 150,000,000 pounds of beef per year as of 2010. The restaurant opened in 1977 and the ranch and restaurant location between San Francisco and Los Angeles on the I-5 make it a popular stopping off point. A hotel was added in 1987.
Even though the fog made it almost impossible to see road signs and billboards, I could tell that we were close to the Harris Ranch by the smell of cow poop, a point also noted by wikipedia.
Santa slides down a rope while surrounded by cow hides at the Harris Ranch Gift Shop
When we arrived at around 8:30 am, beef was already being prepared outside for barbeque. Although it was the last day of the Thanksgiving weekend, our early start meant that we beat the rush to breakfast, even though the hotel parking lot was full. The Harris Ranch Restaurant menu depends heavily on beef (surprise!), and my daughter’s fiance enjoyed his baseball steak and eggs. My daughter and I split a pile of almond pancakes, the nuts having come directly from the Harris Ranch orchards. As we ate, people starting stumbling in to breakfast. Those who were staying at the hotel arrived neatly groomed and appropriately dressed. Those who were coming off the road, appeared slightly dazed, in flannel pajama pants, with hair askew. Just for the record, although we were dazed, we were dressed in regular pants and not askew at all – for once. Thank you for asking.
We start the upward climb through the Grapevine
Breakfast over, we headed back on the road. A few more stops and we hit the portion of I-5 known as the grapevine, so named after the wild grapes that used to grow alongside the road. Although the grapevine has its share of complications, including occasional closures due to fire, snow and traffic failures, our ride through was without incident and we arrived home in SoCal by 1:30 pm.
Recovering chemo head needs a lot of rest, so unlike other trips I have taken down south, this time I was not jumping on and off a bike and going for long walks and city and beach explorations. Actually, I spent most of my time down there taking naps, playing with the dog, and watching a variety of crazed and fascinating reality shows with my daughter in the evening.
Merry Christmas from Surf City
One afternoon my daughter decided I needed airing out and dropped me off in downtown Huntington Beach, aka “surf city”. The downtown is an appealing mix of restaurants, boutiques, surf shops and yoga studios, all leading down to the pier and the beach.
This late November afternoon, the streets were quiet and Christmas trees and inflatable Santas kept company with palm trees.
At the end of the Huntington Beach pier, a restaurant piped Christmas carols into the 90 degree afternoon. Fishing fans set up poles around the edges of the pier and waited for the big one. The rest of us wandered up and down the pier looking at the ocean. The best show in town were the surfers bobbing up and down while waiting for their own big one. The tension was contagious and I began watching the waves myself, wondering which crest would be “the one”. Surfing looks like fun, actually.
A surfer glides to shore in Huntington Beach
Although I told my daughter I was perfectly capable of walking back by myself, she actually drove to find me after work and I was so glad to see her. I jumped in the car and we were homeward bound.
The bacon wrapped hot dot smothered with fried onions and a pepper. Heaven or Hell? You tell me.
The next evening, the two of them took me to Huntington Beach at night, for the weekly Farmer’s Market, appropriately called Surf City Nights. Several blocks of downtown are closed off to traffic and there was a great variety of vendors, including fresh produce and interesting gourmet items, jewelry and craft vendors, and street food vendors (we tried a churro stuffed with chocolate sauce – indescribable). My daughter and her fiance had their favorite item there, hot dogs wrapped in bacon and then smothered in fried onions with a chili pepper on top. I was tremendously impressed!
The next morning I was off to the airport and back to Northern California, more efficient but considerably less romantic than a road trip.
Once I have my strength back, I would like to take several days and drive Highway 1 to SoCal all the way. Perhaps that will be a project for next summer when I am somewhat relieved of this post chemo fatigue.
Looking up in the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias
Everybody needs beauty as well as bread, places to play in and pray in, where nature may heal and cheer and give strength to the body and soul. John Muir
On Mother’s Day 2011, I started losing consciousness while getting my blood drawn for chemo. A few minutes earlier, I had come close to collapsing in the waiting room. My son had asked me if I was OK. I had lied and said I was fine.
But I wasn’t fine, I wasn’t fine at all.
A bad time followed. During the hospitalization, I thought a lot about the camping and road trips I had taken the year before. It was the only way I could stay sane. At one point, my sister had come into my room in the ICU and put her wet jacket sleeve against my cheek so I could feel the rain outside. That was as close as I could get to the trees and rivers, mountains and the ocean. I promised myself that if I got out of there alive, I would go back to wandering again…
The Merced River at Swinging Bridge
Fast forward to September 2011. Out of the hospital. Finished with chemo and in remission. It was time to collect on the promises I had made to myself.
My friend and dance partner Paul and I had been talking about going to Yosemite together for almost a year. We both like photography, dancing, hiking and each other. Bear in mind, that up to the time of this trip, we had never spent more than two consecutive hours together. This concerned Paul, but it didn’t worry me at all. I knew it would all work out.*
Our first decision was when to go. I wanted to put as much time between myself and chemo as possible but still have good weather and relatively long days. We wanted to avoid crowds as well. So we settled on mid-September, mid-week, Monday through Thursday.
Arch Rock Entrance, Yosemite
The next decision was where to stay. Several friends had strongly recommended Yosemite Bug, a lodging establishment located on Highway 140 about 25 miles outside of the Arch Rock Entrance to Yosemite. Reservations were made and we prepared to go which in my case means throwing whatever I think I’ll need in a cardboard box with the overflow going into a paper shopping bag. This, by the way, is how I pack for any road trip longer than one night. Paul didn’t quite know what to make of it when he came to pick me up, but - ever the diplomat – he just put my box and bag in the car with minimal commentary and we headed out.
With just a couple of brief bathroom and gas station breaks, our total trip time from Sonoma County was 4 1/2 hours total. We arrived around 1:30 pm and checked in. Our room wouldn’t be ready until 3 pm, so we decided to have lunch and unpack the car later.
Dining Room and Lodge at Yosemite Bug, where we danced.
The dining hall / lodge was empty except for the cook, Paul, and myself. The music was cranked up. Paul said it was a West Coast Swing and before I knew it, we were dancing in the dining room. We followed it up with an East Coast Swing. I hadn’t danced either since before my diagnosis and it was a very happy moment for me. The cancer and chemo damage had been so troubling that I hadn’t been sure I’d be able to dance again. I was quite rusty but it came back quickly.
Dancing done, we ordered lunch from the baffled cook, chowed down and took off for Yosemite. It was an auspicious beginning to our four day adventure.
The Yosemite Valley Shuttle System
One of the great assets of Yosemite is the free-of-charge Yosemite Valley shuttle system. Not all the buses run year round, so here is the seasonal schedule. We liked it because we could park centrally in or around Yosemite Village and then take a shuttle to our destination. The buses arrive frequently and we never had to wait more that 5-10 minutes for a bus to appear. It was a useful tool for getting to high impact areas with limited parking - such as the Awahnee – plus it saved us aggravation in trying to locate the different attractions. Even in this off-season it was crowded at times and sometimes we had to stand.
Note: while most of the bus drivers were nice, some of them seemed really pissed off to be there and were very clear in letting the passengers know this. So if you end up with an angry bus driver, don’t take it personally.
Tram Tour of the Yosemite Valley
On our first visit into the park, we met a couple on the shuttle who recommended the Yosemite Valley Floor Tram Tour. There are other tours available in Yosemite, but this one was indeed the correct choice for a park overview. We strolled into the Awahnee Hotel immediately after talking to our new friends and were able to sign up in with the concierge in the lobby for a trip the next morning. At $25 a person, it was an excellent deal. The tram stops twice as it travels through the valley, once near the Merced River and the second time at Tunnel View. Our enthusiastic guide, Ranger Virgie Baker, wove natural history, Indian lore and park legend into a fascinating two hour ride. By the end, we not only had a better sense of the background of the park, but we had enough of an overview to put together a basic itinerary for ourselves for the next few days.
The Falls – Vernal Fall and Bridalveil Fall
The path up to Vernal Fall
We were lucky in our September visit that there was a fair amount of water in both the falls we visited. It is said, however, that if you want to be sure to see the Waterfalls of Yosemite in their full glory, it is best to go in the spring.
The trail to the footbridge at Vernal Fall is enjoyable but challenging. The path is well paved and passes along some of the most beautiful
The Merced River below Vernal Fall
scenery possible – raging waters, vertical walls of granite, trees and of course, the waterfall at the bridge. As an extra added thrill, we also saw a rattlesnake on the trail. The hike is also relatively short – about 1.6 miles round trip. On the other hand, we were on a steep incline for most of the way up and it was very hot and sunny which slowed us down quite a bit. By the time we made our way back, the sun had gone down behind the granite walls and it was pleasant and shaded. For serious hikers, it’s possible to continue past the bridge at Vernal Fall and go ever upward to the top and further. For us, getting to the bridge was enough. There are restrooms and drinking water at the bridge.
By contrast, Bridalveil Fall is easy, easy, easy. Just a few flat minutes from the parking lot, it’s a lot of bang for your buck. At some times of the year it’s possible to drenched from the spray coming off the falls, but that was not the case when we were there.
Bridalveil Fall
The actual viewing platform is quite small. Although there isn’t a lot of room to take portraits with the falls as a backdrop, we found that people were polite about taking turns. It could be a different story during the weekends or the peak tourist season. In spite of the signs asking people not to climb on the rocks, people were climbing on the rocks. Don’t do it. It’s stupid and risky.
We did not make it to Yosemite Falls. We were planning to go there after the Yosemite Visitor’s Center but it started to rain unexpectedly. As it was late in the day, we decided instead to scoot back to Yosemite Bug for a good dinner and our nightly ritual of hot chocolate on the deck. So it’s something to look forward to on our next trip.
Glacier Point
One of the many beautiful views at Glacier Point
The couple whom we met on the shuttle our first day also recommended Glacier Point (good thing we ran into them, isn’t it? They planned our entire Yosemite itinerary while on their way to cocktails at the Awahnee). It’s a fairly long drive up to Glacier Point and very winding. However it is well worth it. The trip itself is beautiful and scenic.There are several viewing stations on Glacier Point Road. We stopped at Washburn Point and took some photos before continuing on. Be aware, however, that parking is limited at these viewing points. Once at Glacier Point, there are many places to take photos of the valley below, Half Dome and waterfalls. It is simply breathtaking. I overheard a tour guide telling his group that photographers will position their cameras all day trying to capture the light as it hits the granite walls and spreads across the vast sky. Here are some sunset and other photos taken from Glacier Point from the website Yosemite Fun.
Dining at the Glacier Hotel. Click on the image for more information.
Glacier Point was the scene of the famous Yosemite Firefall, which took place from the late 1800′s-1968. This attraction evolved by accident when leftover embers from the nightly bonfires at the Glacier Point Mountain House (later superseded by the Glacier Point Hotel) were kicked over the side of Glacier Point. Visitors at Curry Camp below began talking about the sight and soon the Firefall became a nightly, ritualized event. The popularity of the Firefall was its undoing and damage to the valley floor from traffic and spectators was becoming harder and harder to ignore. The park service decided to call a halt to the Firefall and the last one took place on January 25, 1968. A year later, ironically, the Glacier Point Hotel burned down in a construction fire and was never rebuilt. Here are some web images of the Firefall in its heyday.
We sat on these two stumps and had a great lunch in serene Mono Meadow
The location of the former hotel is commemorated by a sign. The dining room overlooked the view and meals must have been an unforgettable event. Nowadays, visitors have to make do with a souvenir shop and snack shack, both located in a chalet style building near the parking lot. Hot dogs, ice cream, drinks and packaged snacks are available. It was surprisingly shabby.
But we had brought a picnic and drove down a few miles, finally stopping for lunch at Mono Meadow. It was peaceful and deserted. We did not take the trail, choosing instead sit on a couple of stumps near the parking area. It was a lovely place to relax and enjoy our midday meal.
Bear in mind that the road to Glacier Point is usually closed from November to May. Here is the list of all the Yosemite winter road closures.
The Awahnee and Wawona Hotels
The Awahnee Hotel
Yosemite has many lodging options, but the most memorable are the Awahnee Hotel in Yosemite Valley and the Wawona Hotel near the Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias.
We visited the Awahnee on our first day in Yosemite. This 80 year old luxury hotel nests in the valley surrounded by Yosemite’s looming granite walls. Filled with tourists and hotel guests, the Awahnee was bustling and busy at the dinner hour. Paul bought some souvenir magnets at the gift shop and we wandered the lobby and the outside grounds. Starting at several hundred dollars a night, the Awahnee would not be the first choice for the budget minded traveler, but the setting, location, and amenities are unimpeachable.
We had our picnic on the lawn at the Wawona Hotel
A few days later we had an opportunity to visit Yosemite’s other hotel, the Wawona. The shuttle to Mariposa Grove was located nearby and when we returned from our visit to the Grove, we moved the car up to the Wawona Hotel parking lot and had lunch on the Adirondack chairs on the big lawn. It was simply spectacular to sit there, although it would have been even more spectacular had I been swathed in white tulle and holding a parasol or perhaps a croquet mallet (and sporting a coquettish smile). Although many years have passed since that era in the Wawona’s history, fortunately, the hotel and grounds have retained their Victorian demeanor.
The Open Veranda at the Wawona
Only half of the Wawona’s rooms have private bathrooms. The rest of the rooms share bathrooms and showers located on the outside verandas. We were quoted a starting price of $149 for a non-bathroom room. That said, there is a charming old world feel about the Wawona, modest and low key. I told Paul that this was definitely the Yosemite hotel to go to with a mistress – you would be far less likely to be spotted here than at the flashier, more centrally located Awahnee. Although with a mistress, I would suggest getting a room with a private bath instead of sending her down the veranda to the bathroom in her leopard print lingerie and marabou feathered high heeled mules. Paul thanked me for the observations and said he would keep all of that in mind the next time he found himself in Yosemite with a mistress.
Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias
California Tunnel Tree
The Mariposa Grove of Giant Sequoias was our last scenic trip as we were heading out of Yosemite. It’s quite far from the valley, so we left from the park’s south exit onto California State Route 41 to get back home. Populated with approximately 500 Giant Sequoias, the Mariposa Grove is a fascinating opportunity to see some of the largest living entities on earth. We took the Mariposa / Wawona Shuttle from the Wawona store. Even though the trip is only six miles, it takes about 20 minutes to get there by bus. The parking lot at the Mariposa Grove fills up quickly and at that point the road to Mariposa Grove is closed. By taking the shuttle, visitors are guaranteed entrance to the Mariposa Grove. There is generally plenty of parking at the Wawona store (next door to the Wawona Hotel) but there had been a lightning strike the night before and a large part of the parking lot was cordoned off. We were directed to park alongside the road and that worked out fine.
Grizzly Giant
The Grove itself is serene and dotted with Giant Sequoias. We walked as far as the Tunnel Tree and the Grizzly Giant, which is about 1.6 miles round trip, with a 500 foot elevation gain. There are other hikes in Mariposa Grove with further attractions, but we kept it simple this time. There is also a one hour tram ride available, but we were getting short on time and wanted to get back home before dark, so we passed on that opportunity and headed back to the shuttle.
Useful fact: There is a gas station located between the Wawona Store and the Wawona Hotel.
Yosemite Bug
This outdoor deck at Yosemite bug was where Paul and I had our hot chocolate in the evening.
The best part of our trip (outside of Yosemite itself) was our stay at Yosemite Bug. Paul admitted to having been a little dubious when we first arrived but by the time he left, he was a fan. Unlike the Wawona, I don’t know if it would be a good idea to come to Yosemite Bug with a mistress. Mistresses are notoriously finicky and fly off the handle easily (due to their deep seated feelings of inferiority) and she might get mad at you for choosing this casual venue. But for everyone else, it’s a nice place to stay. I have written a full review of it for Tripadvisor.com entitled “A Gourmet Oasis in a Rustic Setting“, so you can read about the nuts and bolts of Yosemite Bug there.
Useful fact: The only gas station between Yosemite Bug and Yosemite is on 140 in El Portal next to the mini mart. There are no gas stations in the Valley.
We loved the food at the cafeteria in the lodge at Yosemite Bug
Nuts and bolts aside, we loved the food at the cafeteria and the fact that we could purchase bag lunches for $6.50 to take with us to the park. Bags of ice are free. Having our lunch in the cooler meant that we could stop wherever and whenever we wanted to eat. The other meals were also great. Breakfast and lunch were always the same menu,however dinner was a rotating menu with vegetarian and vegan options. Paul is a vegan and by the end of the trip I was ordering the vegan meals too – they were so well prepared that I began to believe that vegetables weren’t so bad after all!
We enjoyed eating in the Garden Dining Room in Yosemite Bug
Yosemite Bug also has a community kitchen stocked with basic appliances and dishes. Guests are welcome to store their food in the refrigerator and prepare their own meals. While preparing hot chocolate in the evenings, I was always surrounded by a busy hub of young people speaking in every foreign language and accent imaginable. One evening I helped an English girl figure out how to turn on the oven and explained to her how to roast pumpkin seeds in Fahrenheit.
Useful fact: The closest grocery store is in Mariposa, ten miles away. There is a mini-mart in El Portal, on 140 between the Bug and the park. Groceries are also available at several locations in Yosemite.
The rooms were cozy and the beds were comfortable at Yosemite Bug
We loved our cozy room with the comfortable, shabby chic furnishings and lots of windows. In the evening we would sit on our deck or on the spa deck below the lodge/dining hall and listen to the crickets while the sky turned dark. Yosemite Bug is not the fanciest of places and it certainly had some “issues” but all in all, it was a magical place to return to at the end of the day and definitely worth a return trip.
BTW: the quote in the title is from John Muir.
*And indeed it did work out. Paul and I had a wonderful time traveling together, not a difficult moment between us, just as I predicted. I want to thank him for the beautiful photos he took. I used three of his in the writeup about Bridalveil and Vernal Falls. He is a great traveling companion and friend and we’re still dancing.
When I was 17, I read a quote that went something like: “If you live each day as if it was your last, someday you’ll most certainly be right.” It made an impression on me, and since then, for the past 33 years, I have looked in the mirror every morning and asked myself: “If today were the last day of my life, would I want to do what I am about to do today?” And whenever the answer has been “No” for too many days in a row, I know I need to change something.
Posing with two of Yorkville's finest in front of the new fire truck.
Making love in the afternoon with Cecilia Up in my bedroom I got up to wash my face When I come back to bed Someone’s taken my place (Cecilia – Simon and Garfunkel 1970)
Is it wrong to sing along at full volume with this song? Is it wrong to do so while it’s playing at a garage sale while in full view and hearing range of other customers and the homeowners? I didn’t think so either. Before chemo, I would occasionally dance in store aisles as long as there were no witnesses, but nowadays, I just don’t care. Plus it’s a great song.
The landscape along CA State Route 128
But I am getting ahead of myself.
Labor Day 2011. Joshua decided to take a few hours off of work and came by to pick me up for a road trip. We deliberated over a couple of options and finally decided to go to Mendocino County and visit Boonville on CA State Route 128. After looking at the map we thought we’d drop in on the neighboring towns of Philo and Yorkville, as well.
Route 128 meanders from the Navarro River up north and ends somewhere around Winters / Davis in the Sacramento Valley. We entered 128 near Cloverdale off 101 North. Winding and circuitous, the road cuts through farms, ranches, wineries, vineyards, creeks, pastures and trees as it rises in elevation.
How can you not love a town that donates its own food and then buys it back? I loved Yorkville's spirit.
Not many cars were going north but we noticed a steady stream of cars heading south, returning from the long holiday weekend. We also noticed a series of colorful signs alongside the road for miles, Burma Shave style. “Cake Walk”, “Ice Cream Social”. They had me at “$1 Hot Dogs”. Are you kidding? I love hot dogs. We decided we would stop and check out the party when we found it. Well, the party was in Yorkville at the Post Office / Social Hall / Volunteer Fire Department. Yorkville was having its annual fundraiser for the Fire Department and college scholarships for local high school students. They were showing off the $50,000 fire truck recently purchased with proceeds from this event. No small feat since Yorkville only has about 300 people living there. Judging from the crowd, everyone in town appeared to have showed up this year. In addition to hot dogs and hamburgers, there was the requisite bake sale and pot lucked salads for sale. Yorkvillians were busy perusing the used books section and analyzing the quilts for auction. At one point, I asked someone where the center of town was and he said “it’s right here where you’re standing!” Before continuing up north, we bought some heirloom tomatoes from one of the vendors and split a hot dog for the cause.
We were planning to have lunch in Boonville, but we decided to blow through and visit Philo first, just a few miles up the road. I don’t know what I thought I’d find, but I didn’t think to find a town as sad as Philo. In spite of being identified as the “heart of Northern California’s newest wine region” the main drag on 128 was a desolation of abandoned commercial buildings and trailers. Several people were standing by a parked car and we asked them if there was something about Philo that we had missed. They said that they had just arrived in town and were wondering the same thing. Just then, a sad faced woman in an old dusty car filled with kids pulled up to one of the trailers. We left soon after and headed back to Boonville for lunch.
This bustling town boasts galleries, cafes, shops, the fairgrounds, tourists, a hotel, and at least one pair of giggling meth addicts. I can spot a meth addict from the moon. Why anyone would want to do this to themselves is a mystery to me.
Among other things, Boonville has its own language named Boontling. The origins of Boontling are murky, but it was believed to have been invented in the late 1800′s when Boonville was an isolated farm town. The language is still in some use today. Check out the video below to pick up on some local lore and hear what Boontling sounds like.
The entrance to the Boonville Hotel
Our first stop was the Boonville Hotel. At one point in the early to mid-1980′s, the hotel was a culinary oasis named The New Boonville Hotel. Established by an eccentric pair of geniuses named Vernon and Charlene Rollins, The New Boonville Hotel was growing, cooking and serving food so extraordinary that people would drive for hours to eat a meal that cost $55 for two (in 1985). Unfortunately, the Rollins’ business sense was not as sophisticated as the wine and food pairings. One night they locked the doors and fled in an old Valiant convertible, leaving everything and everyone behind, including the next day’s lunch crowd, the waitstaff and investors.They worked in France for awhile and finally settled in Talent, Oregon, opening another world class restaurant named New Sammy’s Cowboy Bistro.
On this particular Monday afternoon, on the last day of the Labor Day weekend, the Boonville Hotel was decidedly devoid of drama. Though quiet and shuttered against the heat, the hotel is the most imposing building in town. Joshua and I walked around the back and discovered a pleasant oasis of shaded lawns and patios furnished with comfortable seating areas. Further in, we found a sunny garden filled with sunflowers and vegetables, bees and butterflies. Evidently the new owners of the Boonville Hotel continue to glean their dinner ingredients from the garden behind the hotel.
Don’t blink as you’re driving through Boonville or you might miss the Boonville Hotel. In fact, you might miss Boonville, it being a quintessentially small California town in the rural Anderson Valley of Mendocino County.
Beyond the gardens, there is a secret entrance down to a creek. A wooden gate on a latch opens up to a pathway. I started to go down it to see the creek, but the path was overgrown with tree branches and steep and a little slippery. Joshua was afraid I was going to fall, so I came back up.
We stopped at the Mosswood Market Bakery and Cafe for lunch
We continued our stroll through Boonville, meaning, that we walked up and down Highway 128. After splitting a pastrami sandwich at the Mosswood Market Bakery and Cafe, we stepped into the Farmhouse Mercantile next door.
Our last stop was the aforementioned garage sale. The sale was not actually in a garage, but behind another building in what appeared to be a rumpus room. There was a certain lack of clarity regarding whether this was a one-time sale or an ongoing business, so I stopped trying to figure that out. All that matters is that Simon and Garfunkel were playing on a boombox and nobody seemed to mind that I was singing. Least of all me. I found a fabulous vase the color of orange sherbet and Joshua found a framed English train station sign from the 1950′s. We decided it would be a great addition to his upstairs bathroom.
As we drove south on 128, we stopped and took photos of some of the barns along the road. One beat up building had an ancient, faded “for sale” sign on it. An abandoned apple orchard stood in the adjoining field. The creek bed nearby was dry. Somehow the trees had survived and were full of fruit.
Here’s Simon and Garfunkel’s “Cecilia”. Go ahead, sing along.
From the moment the car left the freeway, we were transported into another world. Francis Ford Coppola is quoted as saying that he planned his winery to be:
“a wine wonderland, a park of pleasure where people of all ages can enjoy all the best things in life – food, wine, music, dancing, games, swimming and performances of all types. A place to celebrate the love of life.” (Wine.com)
The dining patio of the Rustic Restaurant overlooks the vineyards
The estate grounds are lush with acres of surrounding vineyards. At the time of our visit – Labor Day – the leaves were still green and grapes were on the vine.
The estate itself is a castle-like structure built overlooking the vineyards and above the parking lot. The entrance and main courtyard is reached by a majestic staircase.
The Coppola Winery – surprisingly – has a swimming pool in the middle of the courtyard and on this hot Labor Day afternoon, the pool was moderately crowded. Evidently the inspiration for the swimming pool evolved from Francis Ford Coppola’s experience at his other winery in Napa, the Rubicon. Heobserved children begging their parents for permission to go into the Rubicon fountain on hot days, so in their honor, he built a pool for them at this winery.
The winery has a swimming pool in the main courtyard
Adjacent to the pool are a row of personal changing rooms and an outdoor cafe / bar. Passes are required for pool use and advance reservations are required, since the number of pool passes per day are limited. Here is the information on the Coppola Winery swimming pool. With a view of the hills and vineyards beyond the pool, this is a beautiful place to be for the whole family. The Pavilion – located at the far end of the pool – is an event venue in the evening after the pool is closed.
We wandered the estate building while waiting for a table at the Rustic restaurant. I am not a drinker so I passed on the tasting room. However, with 40 different wines produced at the Coppola Winery, I am sure that there is no shortage of tasting opportunities.
The Coppola Winery is filled with fun movie memorabilia, including Don Corleone’s desk and chair from all three of the Godfather movies. There are Oscars on display and glass cases featuring authentic memorabilia from Francis Ford Coppola’s 50 year movie career. The original Tucker car, from the movie Tucker: The Man and His Dream has its own showroom downstairs. It is gorgeous.
There were also several rooms featuring Marie Antoinette merchandise and movie memorabilia from Sofia Ford Coppola’s 2006 movie of the same name. Two prop boats from the movie are on permanent display.
Our table was ready and we tucked into a lemon tarte for me and a panna cotta for Joshua. They were both heavenly. We sat on one of the outdoor patios overlooking the vineyard. Nothing could have been more perfect and delightful. The restaurant interior is also lovely and welcoming. The walls are lined with glass cases containing a vast collection of intriguing vintage olive oil containers.
My lemon tarte - yummy!
Joshua's Panna Cotta - equally as yummy!
We finished our afternoon at the winery by wandering the vineyards a little bit. We were in the section named “Rustic: Zinfandel 1990″
While visiting the Coppola Winery website, I was delighted to see that one of the ongoing activities is “tasting in the dark” Here is the program description:
Grapes in the vineyard named “Rustic: Zinfandel 1990″
Tasting in the Dark
Reservations Required
Offered the following dates: 8/27, 9/17. 10/8, 10/23, 11/13, and 12/4 at 1pm $55 per person 2 hours, including tasting of four (4) wines
Join us for a fascinating wine tasting that explores how flavors and aromas in wine are accentuated by simply turning off the lights. Guests are blindfolded and led to our Winemaker’s Lab for the tasting, which is hosted by Hoby Wedler, a blind graduate student from UC Davis. It’s a unique and unforgettable tasting experience perfect for any wine lover.
My children went to school with Hoby. He was a remarkable child from a remarkable family. Quite evidently, he has continued his upward trajectory. For more information about this and other programs, check out out the Coppola Winery event schedule.
Located at 300 Via Archimedes in Geyserville, the Coppola winery is directly off Highway 101 at the Independence Lane exit.
The Sea Ranch is a community of private homes, sited with careful attention to the natural landscape along a 10-mile stretch of the Sonoma County coast in Northern California. (The Sea Ranch Association)
It had been a long time since I had been to Sea Ranch. Many years ago, a friend had access to a family house there and a group of us went there periodically to escape our young children and household responsibilities. We would enjoy the great hikes, the beautiful views, the peace, the quiet, and – above all – uninterrupted adult conversations and meals!
The coast at Sea Ranch is both rough and beautiful
A good 20 years have passed since then, and Sea Ranch had become just another nice memory until some family members invited me to join them for a long weekend at Sea Ranch recently.
Sea Ranch is located on Highway 1, a circuitous, winding two lane road that goes along the California coast. Getting to Sea Ranch from our location two hours south involved driving past farms and pastures, small towns, forests, along cliffs and paralleling the coast as it rises in elevation – passing through areas of both sunlight and heavy fog. It’s a beautiful trip, but I was glad I wasn’t driving. On our way up, a cow appeared out of the foggy nowhere clinging to the side of a hill directly alongside the road.
The homes at Sea Ranch blend unobtrusively into the coastal fog and landscape
Sea Ranch is a planned community of several thousand homes that have been built over the last 30 plus years. The homes are spread out and designed in a manner that encourages personal privacy with long driveways and enclosed entrances, There is no perimeter fencing and all of the homes are built in the same low key housing style with a stained, weathered exterior. The idea was to allow the community to blend into its coastal surroundings. It also can make it hard to find your way home if you are unfamiliar with the area. Everything looks alike. Although there is a core group of full time residents, many of the homes are for vacation or second home use, and there are a large variety of options for short term rentals. Our rental was three bedrooms, two baths, fully furnished except for linens, which we brought with us. It was beautifully and comfortably appointed, with every amenity possible, including a hot tub.
Our long weekend at Sea Ranch started with a coastal picnic in Gualala
On our trip up, we overshot Sea Ranch and went straight to Gualala, the next town north. We bought some groceries and sat in a small park by the water and had lunch. Then it was back to Sea Ranch for four days and three nights of relaxation and beautiful beach hikes.
Sea Ranch has several community resources. The sports complex has a pool, a lodge and meeting room, and a recreation room. Some of us took Zumba our first day there and I took a yoga class the next morning. Not expecting to be doing yoga at Sea Ranch, I hadn’t brought a yoga mat with me, but not to worry, they had extras for visitors, which was very nice. This sports complex is open to both residents and renters for use and it’s worth going there just to check out the beautiful and immaculately landscaped gardens.
The Sea Ranch Lodge looks directly at the ocean and you can too. The restaurant has plenty of window seats and for the more hardy, Adirondack Loungers get you even closer.
Spectacularly located on a bluff overlooking the ocean, the Sea Ranch Lodge is open to the public, with hotel and a restaurant. The morning we visited there, the restaurant was full of brunch customers – evidently recovering from a Sea Ranch wedding the night before. Near the entrance is a cozy sitting room with overstuffed furniture and a big fire – very appealing, especially on a foggy morning. For the more ambitious, the walking path from the back of the lodge leads to the bluffs directly over the ocean.
Sticky buns are one of Twofish Bakery's specialties
One of the many highlights of our trip was to the Twofish Baking Company, located in Sea Ranch’s miniature “commercial district” on Annapolis Road. What can I say? This busy, inviting bakery wrote the book on baked goods.Others in our group swear by Twofishes’ hot chocolate, chai, lattes, and baked goods but I never got that far. I couldn’t get past the sandwiches. I had an Italian sandwich one day and the turkey stuffed with cranberry the next day, both served on the freshest, best bread I have ever eaten. I have tried to replicate both those sandwiches at home, but no dice. Not the same! Definitely a can’t miss experience.
Next door to Twofish is the Al Forster Gallery where one of our party bought two pictures she had admired there on an earlier trip. A real estate office and a tiny tea room / massage studio round out the “shopping center”. Up the road a little bit is Sea Ranch Supply with a surprisingly pretty little nursery and lots of tools, gardening supplies, and basic housewares.
The natural building materials, the view outside, and the whimsical shape of the Sea Ranch Chapel lends itself to quiet reflection
Another can’t miss experience is the non-denominational Sea Ranch Chapel. Located north of Annapolis Road along Highway 1, this whimsical little building looks like a troll house or a elfin hat. Inside it is cozy and uniquely shaped with a soaring ceiling, curving walls and pretty stained glass windows tucked into alcoves. We stopped and sat inside the chapel for awhile. There is something about natural materials – wood, glass,stone – the windows looking out at the landscape – that lends itself to serenity.
A lone heron wanders the bluff above the ocean at Sea Ranch
We enjoyed many beautiful walks around Sea Ranch. All roads lead to the ocean in all of its rough, rocky. savage Northern California glory. On two occasions we saw massive sea lions sunning themselves on the rocks below and a variety of birds and other wildlife, including a graceful lone heron. The walking paths are well maintained, safe and picturesque. Back at the house, deer wandered past the back door and one evening we spotted a fox scurrying across the nearby golf course.
A fat and happy sea lion suns himself on the rocks at Sea Ranch
After dark I would sit in the hot tub at the house and look at the stars as they appeared and disappeared behind the coastal fog.
While we were there, the weather was foggy and overcast, except for the first day, when the fog burned off for a few hours and temperatures soared into the 80′s. It was not particularly cold during the day, even with the fog, and it made for perfect walking weather. Evenings cooled down quite a bit. It is my understanding that this is fairly typical weather for Sea Ranch.
Sea Ranch is a place of retreat, from stress, from over stimulation, from traffic and from noise. It’s a place to renew and refresh. We had a great time and I know that you will, too.
It was time to hang out again with my friend Paul, the ladykiller. He had enjoyed a busy weekend so far, dancing the night away on Friday and attending a potluck dinner on Saturday. Both evenings had been punctuated by a regular stream of ladies inquiring if “he had a girlfriend”.
The pond is the showpiece of the nursery and a gorgeous place to bring a picnic and have lunch, as there are small picnic tables and benches tucked alongside the pathway.The amenities are a little rough – no running water and one portapotty in the parking lot, so if you plan to eat there, come prepared. The nursery encourages visitors, although if you are part of a group larger than 10 people, signing up for a guided tour is requested. Parking is very minimal, both in the nursery and on the narrow street outside of the nursery
The only other people in the picnic area were a group of Mexican men who were evidently having a photo shoot. They posed in various group positions while dressed in red cowboy shirts. In some of the photos they were wearing cowboy hats and in other photos they were bareheaded. As we were leaving, they were all changing into matching turquoise shirts for another round of photos.
I have managed to make it out to Sonoma Horticultural for a springtime trip once a year for the last few years. Last year while I was on chemo, Joshua accompanied me to the nursery and afterward we drove up the Sonoma Coast and looked at the beaches. I was pretty weak and sat in the car in a chemo-headed state while Joshua jumped in and out of the car and took some very beautiful photos every time we parked. I remember that it was a warm and balmy day, unusual for our Northern California Pacific coastline. On the way home we had dinner in a pizza restaurant.
But the best after-trip was the one that I made two years ago with my parents. It was a week before Mother’s Day. We had taken a picnic and enjoyed it at one of the tables at the edge of the lake at the nursery. Done with lunch, we decided to look at a Japanese Maple nursery located in Santa Rosa. Through a series of events that I am no longer able to reconstruct, we somehow ended up in the kitchen of the nursery owner. We gathered around the countertop and she showed us how she made beans. First she would cook them on the stove top in a cast iron pot for an indeterminate period of time. She told us that she would then put the covered bean pot into a carboard box and stuff newspapers around it. The beans would sit there for several hours more.
