Freeway Free in California: Escape to Point Reyes
It’s summer, and even in a “Mediterranean climate” the thermometer’s are nudging 90. Time to head for the coast, but not the boardwalk-bordered surf beaches of the southern California coastline. We are heading for the fog on the west coast of Marin County, the relatively empty corner of the Bay Area north west of the Golden Gate Bridge.
Going north on Highway 280 at 10AM, we are basically counter-commuting, as the Young Single Professionals leave their hives in San Francisco to commute down to the massive complexes at Apple, Google, and FaceBook – just the opposite of how it worked fifty years ago when suburban residents trekked north to San Francisco’s financial, commercial, and professional centers. We skip along 19th Avenue, working our way stop-light by stop-light up the alphabet from Wawona through Irving, then snake through two big patches of greenery – Golden Gate Park and the Presidio, and finally we are on the bridge. The cool fog envelops the bridge so that there is only a hint of the City on our right, but we dive into the rainbow-framed tunnel on the other side and emerge into sunshine again, in marvelous Marin.
Google sends us through San Rafael, on Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, a twisting 2-4 lane road which passes shopping centers and schools, then winds through pastures full of poster-ready contented cows and finally T’s into Highway 1 at Olema. There is a parking lot just ahead, and it is about noon, so we start searching Google for a lunch spot that might be open. We have come up dry (business must be slow in west Marin during the week) when we notice that the parking lot into which we have serendipitously pulled happens to be next to a restaurant called Due West, which is evidently open, and rates four Yelp stars. Why notgive it a try?
Four stars turns out to a serious under-rating. We order two appetizers and a side dish from the interesting menu, and end up doing a fair imitation of the famous scene in “When Harry met Sally”, moaning ecstatically with almost every bite. The mushroom toast was smothered in exotic varieties of fungus, the sautéed summer squash was delicately flavored, and the sauce on the mussels was so delicious that we ended up scrounging the toasts from under the mushrooms so we could soak up the mussel sauce.
Feeling very happy with our first meal choice, we turned north up Highway 1 to our hideaway cottage in Inverness. The Cottages at Point Reyes Seashore again exceeded our expectations.
We had a lovely room with a well-equipped kitchenette, including a hot water kettle as well as a coffee maker, and everything one might need for a light supper prep except for a cutting board. (Always bring a cutting board.) The cottage included a picnic table on a small patio overlooking a fountain and a couple of actively-patronized bird feeders, so we made our supper from the grocery bags we had brought with us and watched the birds. A perfectly restful ending to our escape.
I have mentioned before on this blog that I am something of a connoisseur of
Register at the entry inside the big wooden doors of the Main Library. Then head up the stairs to the rotunda. On the day of the birthday, there was a harpist playing near the center of the rodunda, the delicate sounds reverberating in the giant space. When I was a student, the Stanford Choir would give impromptu concerts on the stairs, especially wonderful at Christmas time, when we were swotting away in preparation for final exams.
The stairs alone are worth the price of admission, as each wall is covered with giant reproductions of antique maps and charts, covering everything from a visual representation of the longest rivers on earth vs the highest mountains, to a 3-D rendering of Manhattan Island in the 50’s, and much more.
We had planned to leave at 7AM for 
With a sigh of relief, I spot a privy decorated with a cowboy mural down a little side road. The Visitors’ Center is 17 miles further on. The gravel road is bordered with ocotillo (long slender bare dead-looking sticks with flames of bright red flowers blooming at the tips) and Spanish bayonet (giant pompons of green narrow leaves cupping a torch of white and pinkish downward-facing blooms) and lots of bare earth where the cattle have grazed and platinum blonde grasses where they have not.
After about an hour of jouncing over mostly-pretty-good gravel road, we get to the Visitor’s Center, a plain building with a minimal gift shop and a sign saying “Welcome to the Other Side of Nowhere.” The center also offers an up-to-date set of rest rooms with cool running water, and a friendly ranger who supplies us with trails and suggestions. We decide to eat our lunch at the lone picnic table under the lone bit of shade, and then head out on the Horse-Trap Trail that promises a view out over the central interior of the park, and possible encounters with local wildlife.
W had made arrangements for us to attend a Star Party at the McDonald’s Observatory 15 miles west of the Lodge. We knew reservations were required and had them, but did not realize that each party had over 200 invitees. I negotiated the twisty road in Moby Dick, our outsized 4×4 pickup, and parked in daylight, hoping to be able to find the truck later in the dark.
We were early for the star-gazing, and browsed the Visitors’ Center and Gift Shop, as my spouse, a big fan of the Observatory’s Star Date broadcasts on PBS, had asked me to bring him something from MacDonalds. I managed to find some postcards and an affordable and portable book at the gift shop, and made it through the line at the cash register just as they were calling for the partygoers to come to the outside auditorium for the start of the star gazing.
Whatever did we do before fleece! Cozy in fleece jacket and pants and three layers beneath, topped with hats and scarves, we sat on concrete benches as the star ranger pointed out details we had never seen before of Orion. The ranger drew a big laugh with his description of “the hunter, he has a sword, shield and these two bright stars mark his brawny shoulders, but like some other athletes, his head is this fuzzy thing…;” We were introduced to Leo, Taurus, 
Then the host recommended we adjourn to the telescopes for viewing, as clouds were beginning to obscure the sky. There were three outdoor telescopes and two domes open, but even though some of the 200+ viewers had left the amphitheater early to get a head start, there were still long cold lines. We wished we had a fourth fleecy layer. We saw the Pleiades up close and two star clusters and then headed for the interior Sky Tour, which was rather redundant but at least it was indoors, warmish, and sitting. We bailed at 10:30, foregoing another classroom talk, and I drove prudently down the mountain. We crashed into bed at 11:15, piling on all the warm quilts we could find.
Ft. Davis National Historic Site
If you stop, I can recommend the 
If you are going to spend time in the desert, it’s best to know what you may be seeing, smelling, and getting stuck onto. The Chihuahua Desert Research Institute and Botanical Gardens, about 10 miles east of Ft. Davis, provide a convenient and comprehensive introduction. 
A trail leads off from the parking lot, so we put on boots, grab sticks, and off we go, altitude, loose rocks, and elevation gain be hanged! We make it about half a mile up the trail before stopping to look at the Lodge below and deciding we had done enough.
Marfa, in the Big Bend Country of Texas, is the home of the mysterious 
But the real mystery of Marfa is not the lights, but how a town of scarcely 3000 manages to maintain not just the grand old 
Allyson Johnson 