Made a quick trip out to Northern California over the weekend to visit my friends Terry and Kimberly on the occasion of her 29th birthday (or something like that). We took a house at the Sea Ranch, a development just outside of Gualala, California, near the Sonoma-Mendocino county line right on the coast. The pictures are on flickr.com, as usual. Our house was right on the coast, just at the edge of one of many rocky coves. We could hear the surf pounding on the rocks all day and night. Although we had generally foggy, clammy weather, it was still beautiful.
Thursday I flew out to Oakland and rendezvoused with Kimberly during the day, and we ran errands. I had forgotten to pack my running shoes, and stopped at La Foot, an outstanding Berkeley running shoe store. They have incredible service, going as far as to watch you walk barefoot across the floor to assess your gait and shoe needs. Would that my salesperson wasn't suffering through incredible allergies and barely able to breathe. But that was probably the inevitable result of three massive storms in two weeks and lingering clammy weather that plagued us all weekend. That night we had a blow out dinner at Rivoli, a fantastic local place on the Berkeley-Albany city line. Entertainment included not only our respective fine company, the flower garden in the glassed-off atrium, but also the three Berkeley professors arguing the merits of the Hillary campaign at another table (and making it difficult to keep down my outstanding dinner of stuffed quail and roasted sweet potato). But Kimberly dropped eaves at length over her excellent hot fudge sundae.
The next day we made our customary Noah's Bagels run, then headed to the Sea Ranch. The route takes us past San Quentin, where each time when I pass by on the way to Marin and places north I think of Merle Haggard, who did time there. We arrived at the Sea Ranch in the early afternoon. As the pictures show, the Sea Ranch is an extensive residential development right off the Pacific Coast Highway near Gualala. It features moderate bluffs going down to the ocean, with numerous coves and seal feeding grounds. The houses all have a uniform, uninteresting architectural style, but most feature outstanding views either of the ocean or the many open spaces throughout the Ranch. After stocking up with provisions, we settled in for the evening. Kimberly made a fine dinner consisting of duck a l' (blood) orange with honey/soy/cherry preserve glaze, spinach, and cauliflower, which we enjoyed immensely after watching a surprising little sunset that could. Afterwards we enjoyed another little birthday celebration with the opening of presents and gobbling down outstanding birthday cake courtesy of her friend Daniela, and adjourned, in a true California cliche, to the outdoor hot tub and then to toasting marshmallows in the fireplace.
Saturday as usual was long run day, sandwiched between watching the Packer and Patriot playoff games. Kimberly and I went to the Dolphin Gallery to check out the local art store, then returned for lunch. After, I ran on the gravel/grass trail that lines the coast along the entire Sea Ranch. The trail was a pretty bad ankle-twister: lots of grass divots and other chuckholes to avoid. Incredible scenery, as you can see from the photos, albeit somewhat diminished by the lingering fog. I returned to the house and basically couched it the rest of the day, interrupted only to watch a spectacular sunset and eat Kimberly's next meal, of beef bourguignon and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies made from scratch (needless to say, I now weigh 300 pounds after this weekend). Terry and I ran Kimberly upstairs by breaking out Fellowship of the Ring on the DVD.
Sunday saw Terry spend the entire day hiking all of the coastal bluff trail, roughly 9 miles. Kimberly and I went to the Gualala Arts Center for an unexpectedly good exhibition of local artists. We went to the store to shop for dinner, then returned to the house where I watched the Chargers finish off the Colts and the RCA Dome along with them. After a two hour hike on the coastal bluff trail, I came back to watch the end of the greatest game in years-the Giants putting down the Jessica Simpsons. Sorry Lisa, looks like your boys were Cabo Waboed into a first round playoff exit. No hot tubbing or sunset tonight, but we did enjoy Kimberly's final feast of the weekend, sauteed (in white wine and butter) halibut and scallops with broccoli. Kimberly and I watched Persuasion on PBS, with great disappointment at the amount of editing. It was like watching a version of Gone With the Wind that skips from the Twelve Oaks barbecue to the end of the Civil War.
Monday was a travel day, which depressingly featured some reasonably clear weather for the first time the whole trip. We did enjoy a pretty scenic drive back to the Oakland airport though. Formerly a crackhouse of an airport (hey, it made the Shreveport Airport look like the Notre Dame cathedral), Oakland has really improved the facility, to the point where its fairly easy to get in and out of (after killing yourself getting past the Bay Bridge exit, of course). Notably, the flight crew back evoked Southwest Airlines flights of old, back when SWA hired only smoking hot stewardesses (no "flight attendants" back then), who had fun singing songs and joking with the passengers. It was briefly like 1985 again. When Reagan was President and all was right with the world. Well, except for AIDS, new Coke, Live Aid, and other atrocities.
All in all it was quite a long strange Northern California trip.
Thursday I flew out to Oakland and rendezvoused with Kimberly during the day, and we ran errands. I had forgotten to pack my running shoes, and stopped at La Foot, an outstanding Berkeley running shoe store. They have incredible service, going as far as to watch you walk barefoot across the floor to assess your gait and shoe needs. Would that my salesperson wasn't suffering through incredible allergies and barely able to breathe. But that was probably the inevitable result of three massive storms in two weeks and lingering clammy weather that plagued us all weekend. That night we had a blow out dinner at Rivoli, a fantastic local place on the Berkeley-Albany city line. Entertainment included not only our respective fine company, the flower garden in the glassed-off atrium, but also the three Berkeley professors arguing the merits of the Hillary campaign at another table (and making it difficult to keep down my outstanding dinner of stuffed quail and roasted sweet potato). But Kimberly dropped eaves at length over her excellent hot fudge sundae.
The next day we made our customary Noah's Bagels run, then headed to the Sea Ranch. The route takes us past San Quentin, where each time when I pass by on the way to Marin and places north I think of Merle Haggard, who did time there. We arrived at the Sea Ranch in the early afternoon. As the pictures show, the Sea Ranch is an extensive residential development right off the Pacific Coast Highway near Gualala. It features moderate bluffs going down to the ocean, with numerous coves and seal feeding grounds. The houses all have a uniform, uninteresting architectural style, but most feature outstanding views either of the ocean or the many open spaces throughout the Ranch. After stocking up with provisions, we settled in for the evening. Kimberly made a fine dinner consisting of duck a l' (blood) orange with honey/soy/cherry preserve glaze, spinach, and cauliflower, which we enjoyed immensely after watching a surprising little sunset that could. Afterwards we enjoyed another little birthday celebration with the opening of presents and gobbling down outstanding birthday cake courtesy of her friend Daniela, and adjourned, in a true California cliche, to the outdoor hot tub and then to toasting marshmallows in the fireplace.
Saturday as usual was long run day, sandwiched between watching the Packer and Patriot playoff games. Kimberly and I went to the Dolphin Gallery to check out the local art store, then returned for lunch. After, I ran on the gravel/grass trail that lines the coast along the entire Sea Ranch. The trail was a pretty bad ankle-twister: lots of grass divots and other chuckholes to avoid. Incredible scenery, as you can see from the photos, albeit somewhat diminished by the lingering fog. I returned to the house and basically couched it the rest of the day, interrupted only to watch a spectacular sunset and eat Kimberly's next meal, of beef bourguignon and oatmeal chocolate chip cookies made from scratch (needless to say, I now weigh 300 pounds after this weekend). Terry and I ran Kimberly upstairs by breaking out Fellowship of the Ring on the DVD.
Sunday saw Terry spend the entire day hiking all of the coastal bluff trail, roughly 9 miles. Kimberly and I went to the Gualala Arts Center for an unexpectedly good exhibition of local artists. We went to the store to shop for dinner, then returned to the house where I watched the Chargers finish off the Colts and the RCA Dome along with them. After a two hour hike on the coastal bluff trail, I came back to watch the end of the greatest game in years-the Giants putting down the Jessica Simpsons. Sorry Lisa, looks like your boys were Cabo Waboed into a first round playoff exit. No hot tubbing or sunset tonight, but we did enjoy Kimberly's final feast of the weekend, sauteed (in white wine and butter) halibut and scallops with broccoli. Kimberly and I watched Persuasion on PBS, with great disappointment at the amount of editing. It was like watching a version of Gone With the Wind that skips from the Twelve Oaks barbecue to the end of the Civil War.
Monday was a travel day, which depressingly featured some reasonably clear weather for the first time the whole trip. We did enjoy a pretty scenic drive back to the Oakland airport though. Formerly a crackhouse of an airport (hey, it made the Shreveport Airport look like the Notre Dame cathedral), Oakland has really improved the facility, to the point where its fairly easy to get in and out of (after killing yourself getting past the Bay Bridge exit, of course). Notably, the flight crew back evoked Southwest Airlines flights of old, back when SWA hired only smoking hot stewardesses (no "flight attendants" back then), who had fun singing songs and joking with the passengers. It was briefly like 1985 again. When Reagan was President and all was right with the world. Well, except for AIDS, new Coke, Live Aid, and other atrocities.
All in all it was quite a long strange Northern California trip.
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