Telluride to Sterling, Colorado

If you lived here, you'd be Ralph Lauren

My route from Telluride to Lincoln was a bit convoluted. 145 to 62 to 550 to to 50 to 285 connecting with Interstates 70 and 76. I got as far as Sterling, Colorado tonight. It was another spectacular drive. Today's star is the aspen tree. The first half of the drive was golden and red-golden aspen trees stealing thunder from the mountains; conifer forests serving as a jeweler's cloth against which to display precious gold. Outside of Ridgeway, Colorado, I drove past Ralph Lauren's ranch. There are no signs, just a designer rail fence that stretches for miles separating passersby from a Bierstadt landscape.

US 50 east

Then it got flat. Not much else to say about that except you can see a whole lot of not much driving across northwest Colorado. The contrast between Telluride and Sterling is so great it's hard to believe they could be in the same State - hell - the same country.

Last night I was invited to dinner, actually David was invited to dinner and I was welcomed as his guest. The host couple was a superb combination of physical grace and gracious hospitality. The guests were five adults and one three-year old cherub with golden hair and blue eyes. All of the guests were year-round residents, fit, healthy, interesting, and attractive. The men and women were handsome, engaging, and spiritually lovely. Dinner was in a picture perfect bungalow on a street of picture perfect bungalows surrounded by the awe-inspiring beauty of the canyon. The sky was ultramarine blue as we walked to dinner and black velvet arrayed with crystals and the milky way when we returned home. I felt like I had been invited to Asgard. The conversation was lively and some of it centered on injuries suffered by the group and others in and around Telluride on skis, or bikes, or motorcycles, or from falling rocks. David laughed that Telluride is a good place to die and everyone agreed. Stories topped stories of spectacular wipe outs and equally spectacular comebacks from near death (and a few who didn't make it).

Not included in the discussion were some other interesting tidbits I had learned about the area. At the end of the canyon where sits Telluride are capped toxic ponds holding mine tailings from the long defunct gold mines. Less than 50 miles upwind are uranium mines and a proposed uranium processing plant that has been given the go ahead from the State government. Does anybody remember the movie Pretty Poison? It hit me as I was driving away today that these exceptional people are drawn to a place that offers incredible beauty, phenomenal access to various forms of recreation, five medicinal marijuana dispensaries for a town of 2500, and a good deal of risk.

I have been to many beautiful places. Places where the land draws people who form community around that attraction. Santa Fe, Sedona, San Francisco, Palm Springs are prime examples. I can't recall ever being in a place where both beauty and danger formed such a compelling lure.

Don't get me wrong. I adore these people. I adore their physicality, their openness, and their vitality. I think Telluride area is one of the most spectacularly beautiful places I have ever been - including New Zealand the title holder for most spectacularly beautiful country. As much as I love being around these people, the life they have chosen is one for which I do not have the courage. Bless them. And hopefully they'll let me come back and wallow in the beauty of the place if they read this.

US 50 and Telluride, Colorado

Nevada Beach, Lake Tahoe

I left Walnut Creek on the 21st of September. I took Interstate 80 to Sacramento where I picked up US 50 that runs 3,052 miles from Sacramento to Ocean City, Maryland. The first day took me through Lake Tahoe and Carson City before opening up on to what Life Magazine once called the loneliest road in America.

Lonely, desolate, magnificent, grand, beautiful are all adjectives I would use to describe the road between Carson City and Ely, NV (pronounced eelee by the locals). The spaces are so vast I felt the camera could not properly capture the landscape. I would go an hour without seeing another car on the road. The towns are few and far between. There are no services for the hundred mile stretch between Fallon and Austin. It was magnificent.

US 50 East

My first night was in Ely, a dump of a town where I was lucky to find a motel room. Between the bikers, hunters, and men in Haliburton jumpsuits in big black SUVs the town was full up. I did manage to find a motel (I use the word loosely) that still had a room but no Internet connection. So, I went to bed early and got out of town at first light after a decent breakfast that featured what the locals call a scone, but is really Navajo fry bread with goop on top. On bite was enough to satisfy my craving fro this local delicacy for all eternity.

My plan had been to drive to Moab, Utah the next day but travelers I met said they had a problem finding a room there. As a result I decide to push on through to Telluride. The day took me through more incredible scenery with not much more signs of civilization. The signs I did see made me grateful that there weren't more. At Scipio, Utah US 50 joins Interstate 70. That stretch between Scipio and the turn off to Moab has got to be one of the most spectacular stretches of highway anywhere. By the time I got to Moab, I was so sated with scenic splendor I breezed by Canyonlands and Arches national parks only stopping for gas. Moab is the gateway for Arches and Canyonlands and a mecca for off-road bicyclists. The town was indeed packed so I was glad I still had a few hours of daylight to make the final stretch.

Paradox, Colorado

I got to Telluride after dark. Fortunately I was on the twistiest part of the road before the sun set. David Oyster, a classmate from college and former roommate from my salad days in Los Angeles welcomed me into his home and we stayed up talking. The next morning I walked out to the living room to a jaw-dropping view of the mountains and the town below. David conducts 4 wheel drive tours of the Imogene Pass that runs through the abandoned mines above Telluride and had one scheduled for the morning. I was able to join the tour that was a treacherous climb up a marginal road past abandoned mines and mind-boggling views to the summit at 13,000 plus feet. Telluride is at 8,700 feet. Fortunately I had spent the last day mostly above 5,000 feet so I wasn't completely overcome by the altitude. During the gold rush days there was a mining town named Tomboy about half-way up the pass. There were dozens of mines in the area. Tomboy was larger than Telluride at the time. Today the mining days are long gone and only a few ruins and boarded up mine entrances remain -- well, and some capped toxic tailings ponds. There had been snow the previous week so we couldn't make it to the summit. If David hadn't been driving, we might not have made it back down. Not a road for novice drivers.

Imogene Pass

Back in town we went to the local farmers market and had lunch. That night David made a fabulous meal of organic local chicken, summer squash, and lentils. My contribution was margaritas made with fresh lemon and lime juice.

The next day, I attempted a yoga class but the effects of altitude finally caught up with me and I was only able to finish half the class. In the afternoon we took of to Gateway, Colorado to rendezvous with cyclists completing the 100 mile Telluride to Gateway Ride. The drive there through Dolores River Canyon tests the limits of my adjective vocabulary. I had never heard of this place but it is as astounding. We took Colorado route 145 along the Dolores River. Yet another magnificent stretch of land. We had a late lunch at Dolores Canyon Resort before heading back to Telluride along the lower canyon road. Another day of superlatives.

Dolores River Canyon

More pictures on Facebook:

US 50 East

A drive up the mountain

Dolores Canyon

If you're going to San Francisco...

Night falls on Shell Ridge

Here's a short list of things I highly recommend experiencing in the Bay Area:

Watch owls fly overhead as night falls sitting on Jim and Hana Peterson's patio overlooking Shell Ridge Open Space while discussing life and other frivolities. 

Berkeley Bowl

Grocery shop at Berkeley Bowl, the foodies' Valhalla, where the organic produce section is as big as many entire grocery stores. Where the selection and quality of just about anything else you can think of is huge. 

Dine at Gather in Berkeley preferably with long-time and new friends. Try the summer involtini and the kale salad. 

Before or after dinner, walk around Cal Berkeley campus

Have sorbet at Scream in Oakland. The macadamia vanilla sorbet induces epinonymous responses. 

But first have lunch at Bakesale Betty. Have the fried chicken sandwich on fresh-baked bread and a fresh-squeezed lemonade. 

Blue Bottle Coffee

Have coffee at Blue Bottle Coffee in Hayes Valley. If you like cappuccino, have the Gibraltar. Or be a purist and order the coffee of the day filter brewed to order. 

Go to Golden Gate Park. Any where in the park: the De Young Museum, the Botanical Garden, the Japanese Garden, the Arboretum. Or just ramble through the miles of walking trails past ponds and lakes and serendipitously placed whimseys. 

Beach Chalet Murals

Check out the WPA era murals by Lucien Labaudt at the Beach Chalet on Ocean Beach. The food at the Restaurant and Brewery on the second floor is very good, too. Try the risotto. 

Along 49 Mile Drive

Walk along Ocean Beach and watch the fog roll in. 

Drive any or all of the 49 Mile Scenic Drive. 

Live here if you can possibly arrange it.

Link to my San Francisco Facebook page.

Link to My Berkeley Facebook page.

San Francisco

Montgomery Street

Went into the city yesterday and the siren song was turned up full blast. The fog had burned off, the skies were clear, the air was cool. The city sparkled. If only it wasn't almost as expensive to live there as Manhattan. I walked around the business district and up Post Street window shopping at Gumps and the haute couture uni-culture boutiques. I peeked into Chinatown and tarried in Union Square watching tourists watch street performers -- and taking a few snapshots with my iPhone.

Chinatown Gate

I made the obligatory pilgrimage to Macy's Men's Store -- the closest place I know to the Bloomingdale's of my youth and found a shirt on sale. The weather is starting to cool. The tees and polo shirts I packed for the trip need augmenting with another layer or two. Driving back, I know I'm going to be hitting cooler weather so it was a good excuse to shop the sales.

I met my friends Mischa and Gina for dinner at their office on Market Street. They are the sole proprietors of Forrell Company, a wholesale to the public jewelry business. Mischa and Gina sell beautiful custom, estate, and designer jewelry at extremely reasonable prices. We had dinner at South Park Cafe with a friend of theirs. South Park is a charming little park ringed by mixed use buildings that looks and feels like a suburban neighborhood tucked in the middle of SOMA. Except of course, for the price of the real estate.

Street Performers in Union Square

My time here in the Bay Area is drawing to a close. I'll start back east on the 21st. I can't say I'm leaving my heart in San Francisco. I've deposited shards of it in too many places around the world already. But the sirens do sing sweetly here and it is tempting to linger.

Lunch in Marin County

Marin County Civic Center

The first time I was in Marin was in 1971. I drove up from L.A. with my roommate at the time (who I will be seeing in Telluride on my way back to Florida). The occasion was a wedding of his Army buddy that was held on Mount Tamalpais. There were flowers in the hair, mescaline in the punch and the warm smell of colitis in the air. Somewhere between the vows and leaving, a total stranger handed me with a Hershey-sized bar of Afghan government stamped hash because he was getting clear.

Today I drove from Walnut Creek to San Raphel for lunch with a friend. The number households and the average household income of Marin has exploded since 1971, but I don't think they've touched the infrastructure. The roads are antiquated and in poor repair. They voted down BART so all 250 thousand plus people drive everywhere (unless they are jogging or biking). 

I was early, so I stopped at the Marin County Civic Center designed by Frank Lloyd Wright. The last time I was there was after that wedding in 1971. Its not my favorite building of his. Truth to tell, I find it a bit fussy with all those globes, circles and the gold paint. The same motifs (minus the gold paint) work better at the Guggenheim in Manhattan. The interior spaces are interesting however and the use of natural light is impressive. Unfortunately, Wright could not anticipate the utilitarian accouterment of recycle bins and OSHA signage, but if you block those out the building still has a certain Disneyesque mid-century flair.

I've known my friend through life and name changes. Currently, she lives in a lovely group house a few blocks from the civic center. A central member of the household is Leo, a labrador retriever who loves to retrieve tennis balls from the pool. The human members of the house, my friend included, are involved with a consciousness studies group. Like me, she is living a life she never planned or imagined - actually, like almost everyone I know or have met on this trip. 

Leo the wonder dog

On the drive back, the fog had cleared and I was treated to spectacular views of San Quentin, the Carquinez straits, and the tastefully painted oil refineries tucked into the hills bordering on the bay. There are more pictures on Facebook.

Faces I Remember

AT&T Park

An unintended consequence of visiting old friends and haunts is new discoveries about people and places I thought I knew. So it has been so far on this trip. Have I changed? Have we all changed? The vampire Lestat said in one of Anne Rice's novels, "We do not change, we only become more fully what we are." Depending on how hidden our light is under the bushel, becoming can feel like change.

Places change as people become. Yesterday I met a dear friend for brunch in San Francisco at Twenty-Five Lusk in the heart of the new SOMA. What was only a decade ago a warehouse district you passed through to take a shortcut onto the Bay Bridge is now a thriving, vibrant neighborhood. Especially on a Giants home game day. People live and work here. Trendy restaurants, clubs and hip stores are here - with just enough of the old funk in surfaces and an occasional survivor business from the old days.

Fans

I drove into the city trying not very successfully to catch a glimpse of the new span of the Bay Bridge. I found Doris Day parking on 3rd Street three blocks from AT&T Park, on a game day yet. Fans were already heading to the stadium. I was early so I walked around the neighborhood picking my jaw off the pavement periodically at the changes that have taken place. I found the restaurant and then continued my exploration. It was Sunday morning but the streets were filled with people going to the game, jogging, riding bikes, shopping, or just hanging out. The area around SF MOMA was bustling with museum and brunch goers. I snapped away like the tourist I now am at architecture and people mesmerized by the life force around me.

Brunch was delicious. I had a very twee version of shrimp and grits preceded by a great cocktail invented at the restaurant and named after the pastry chef who hails from Brittany. So of course the Jean Michel Lada is concocted with Stella Artois beer, Pueblo Blanca tequila, lime juice, cucumber and lime juice. Maybe it is supposed to be a French Margarita, No matter, it is tangy, refreshing, and goes well with food. In case you are concerned, based on the dessert I shared, a blueberry clafoutis (think creme brûlée with a smidgen of flour to hold the shape) with Strawberry sorbet, Jean Michel is AOK in the pastry department.

Remains of the day

The conversation, as always with John, was thoughtful amusing, and just a bit naughty. We shared experiences and talked story. We complained about the futility of planning for the future given the lamentable state of the present.We enjoyed each other's company.

In the afternoon I returned to Walnut Creek to meet the latest additions to Jot and Dana Charlot's family. The grand children are adorable but not much into conversation yet so I relished catching up with more old friends and a few new acquaintances. I was pleased that despite (or because of) perilous times people more than making do. I've known Jot's sons since they were pre-teens. I took pictures at Dana's daughter Poppi's wedding. I felt a little bit like the narrator of Our Town, a witness to a multi-generational family saga with, thankfully, no graveyard soliloquies yet.

9/11 Commemoration in Lafayette

Back at the manse where I am staying, We rehashed the events of the day and I learned new things about people I thought I knew. Fortunately, it only deepened the love and regard I have for them. It was a satisfying end of a day filled with changing places and people becoming. I can't afford to live here any more, but I sure do love to visit. More pictures on Facebook,

Berkeley Botanical Gardens

I got here Wednesday afternoon. I’m staying with a couple I have known since 1983. I’ve had breakfast and lunch with friends every day. Today, I went with Marta and her granddaughters, Bea and Sophie, to Berkeley Botanical Gardens and the marvelousness of this part of the world descended upon me anew.

This trip has reminded me that America is a beautiful country if you discount its human inhabitants. (The jury is still out on most of them.) California is a beautiful State with almost every kind of topography you can imagine (I don’t know of a glacier here). The San Francisco Bay area is the embodiment of California’s exquisite beauty in its current faded glory. The Berkeley Botanical Gardens is a poignant metaphor for the current state.

Tucked in the Berkeley Hills with San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean to the West, the Diablo Valley and Sacramento River Delta to the East, the gardens are a microcosm of California native plant life. Within a few acres is encapsulated a taste of nearly all the flora that is so abundant in the State. The garden is laid out in paths and meadows that, like a Japanese garden, provide a different view with every turn. The unusual weather this year however, enhanced I suspect by budget constraints, have not been kind to la belle botanique. The big trees, the redwoods, cedars, live oaks, and firs are fine for the most part. But the quaking Aspens have already dropped their leaves and the trunks of many of them are covered in a golden lichen. Many of the smaller plants look tired as if they/ve been fighting the good fight against what is normally a benign ecosystem.

There is still a feeling of abundance. There is still so much beauty. There are still surprises. It was my first visit, but my companions, who have been here countless times, were delighted by discovering crayfish in the stream running through the garden. As we were leaving an early fog rolled in curling through the trees and lowering a scrim over the landscape. Looking out over the garden from the parking lot entrance, listening to Marta talk of other visits in easier times, I hoped that the garden will recover from the current unpleasantness and thrive once more - that the weather will behave and resources will be restored.

Back in sun soaked Walnut Creek we got a no skimping on the butterfat ice cream at San Francisco Creamery before going back through the Caldecott Tunnel to meet more of Richard and Marta’s family for tacos at Cactus. A rich and varied mix of a day not easily duplicated in many parts of the world.  More pictures on my Facebook page.

Apogee

After an uneventful drive from Los Angeles, (except for the sticker shock when I got gas) I'm in Walnut Creek, California. I lived here  for a year in 1983 and for 11 years from 1994 to 2005. My marriage began and ended here, as did my time with a spiritual teacher. My world travels began here.

I have made three other cross-country drives beginning or ending in California. Two of them began or ended here in the East San Francisco Bay area. Although I did not realize it at the time, each marked a major transition in my life. Now, at a time when my life in Sarasota recently has been more about completion than new beginnings, I am back here again. I don't know how long I will be here. I will visit friends and old haunts. I will explore the incredible diversity this part of the country has to offer. When it feels right, I will start back east. Until then, I'll take photos and post my travels.Maybe while revisiting such a significant part of my past, I will get an inkling of what lies ahead.

Los Angeles

Palm Springs Art Museum

I left Palm Springs yesterday and drove to Los Angeles - well to Chatsworth, a suburb of Los Angeles. My last day in Palm Springs I went to the art museum there and toured some more of the mid-century houses. I left Palm Springs with a new appreciation of it. I am sure I will return there at some point.

I lived in L.A. for seven years total. A year in the early 70s when I thought I was going to be the next Steven Spielberg, and for six years in the late 80s and 90s when I worked for a restaurant company.

L.A. at its best

Many spiritual teachers and Jane Fonda say that we learn the most from our failures. In that case, L.A. was my PhD in life lessons. My last six years there were probably the most difficult period of my life. I learned tough lessons about trust and honesty. I came to view L.A. as all seven circles of hell in one convenient location. 

I also made a few close friends and they are the reason I came here on this trip. It will be a short stay. My friends are all still working (a good thing). Fortunately, yesterday was a holiday and I was able to at least touch base.

Today I got the car a much deserved wash and did errands. Tomorrow I will drive to Walnut Creek in the Bay Area.

Palm Springs Day Two

Andreas Canyon

First intended destination today was the Tram, a funicular that takes you to the top of Jacinto Mountain. That was our destination until we saw how many other people had the same idea.

Kaufman House

We drove instead to Indian Canyon and walked Palm Canyon and a little bit of Andreas Canyon. We had lunch at a popular - and good - cafe called Cheeky's.

Korakia Pension

After lunch we toured Bob's favorite mid-century houses with a few oddities thrown in. There are pictures on my Facebook page. This is a short entry in the captain's log. I have had an incredible day and am very, delightfully tired.

Idyllwild and the BackYard

View from the road

The tendency here is to get up early and do things before the day heats up. I slept until 7:30, Had coffee and went to the gym. World Gym is a short drive from Bob and Doug's house. It felt really good to work out after a week away from it.

Main Street, Idyllwild

After the gym we got n the car and headed for Idyllwild, CA, a small town in the San Jacinto mountains of San Bernadino County, about an hour from Palm Springs. The drive there is a study in mountain terrain. You go through harsh desert, hillsides covered in boulders, alpine meadows, and evergreen forests. Idyllwild itself is a touristy mountain town that has moved beyond picturesque toward caricature.

View of the mountains from Idyllwild

We had lunch at a Mexican Restaurant that was pretty good, but not what I had come to expect in New Mexico. We walked around the tiny town stopping is a store that sold Tibetan treasures mostly from Nepal and India. We headed back to Palm Springs down the other side of the mountain through Banning and past acres of windmill farms, outlet malls, and casinos.

We got back to the house and into the pool where we swam and soaked and talked about stuff until Sunset.

I am experiencing Palm Springs in a new way on this trip, seeing it from the perspective of living here. The summer heat is oppressive, but you compensate for it. A pool is a necessity. It becomes another room in the house during the heat of the day. The mountains frame the valley and provide backdrop everywhere. The mid-century architecture, real and faux, is charming. The demographic spread is broader than just seniors and retirees.

Doug and Bob's backyard

It is a California manifestation of the same energy that you find in Ft. Lauderdale,  Florida. Substitute desert for ocean. What makes it special for me, is the variety of landscape within two hours in any direction. It is like the Bay Area in that way.  You can be at the Ocean, the Colorado River, the mountains, or any of several cities. And they have Trader Joe's.

Tomorrow I want to take the tram up the mountain and drive around looking at mid-century homes.

Sedona AZ

The town from Sky Ranch Lodge

I have to recant. I was so eager to tar Sedona with the same brush I used on Taos (deservedly so in that case) I rushed to judgement.

This morning after checking out of my delightful room at Sky Ranch Lodge, I drove into town for breakfast and a walk around. Breakfast was at the Hitching Post where I had a vegetable omelet with fresh asparagus, carrots, peppers, and onions served with home made hash browns and pico de gallo. The service was attentive, the coffee was fresh, and the bill was very reasonable. My server, Esther, gave me a tutorial on the names of the rocks before sending me on my way.

The Hitching Post

I strolled the village and was impressed that tucked amidst the ticky tacky souvenir shops and jeep tour companies were some very nice shops and galleries. I was also impressed by how friendly the locals were. It was clear from their conversations that they were here for the land. It drew them in the first place, and kept them there. And the land is impressive. The red rocks are magical. And though I wouldn't want to live there, I was glad I had decided to visit.

I left Sedona and drove to Palm Springs where I am tonight. It was over 100 degrees the entire trip. The only visual relief from the beige desert landscape were the seguaro cactus. Southwestern Arizona was, to quote Stephen Sondheim, hot and monotonous. Tonight I am in Palm Sprinds where it is hot, but certainly not monotonous. I'll stay here for a few days before heading north.

Esther told me the name of this rock but I forget it

Farmington NM to Sedona AZ

First, a word about Jesus' pears. They look like small boscs. They are sweet, crunchy and are very satisfying. Mana? Wrong Testament?

The morning belonged to the sky gods. To adorn the stark landscape out of Farmington on NM route 64, they staged another son et lumière show complete with pillars of rain and lightening bolts. Thunder and lightening and rain, oh my! The weather held until I  was leaving the Four Corners Monument, the only place where you can be in four States at once: New Mexico, Colorado, Utah, and Arizona. The monument is on Navajo land. There is a modest admission fee and, today at least, a modest Indian market. Heading west out of the monument in US Route 160, I drove through the first of several rain squalls. One or two approached dramatic, but mainly they served to cool things down.

Navajo dwelling

After visiting Chaco Cultural Monument yesterday, I still yearned for cliff dwellings. I considered the four hour detour to Mesa Verde, but settled instead on the Navajo National Monument near Kayenta, Arizona and on my way to Sedona. The drive there along Route 160 took me past Monument Valley and tableau of Indian life in the 21st century. Trailers, tract homes, prefab boxes - not a hogan in sight. I was last on this road 25 years ago. The place names are the same, Farmington, Shiprock, Window Rock, Tuba City, but they are no more the Indian towns of Tony Hillerman novels. They are small cities with a distinct overlay of Indian decoration on uni-culture development. Such a contrast to the magnificent desolation of the land they inhabit. I couldn't help but think about Tibet. The Han overlay of indigenous  Tibetan culture with decidedly mixed results. There is no question the Indians are better off thanks to tax free cigarettes and gambling, but at what cost? Maybe none except aesthetics.

Keet Seel Pueblo

The Navajo Monument put me back in a space where I could focus on the land. The pueblo peoples knew how to harmonize with the land. Their footprint is light and in harmony with the surroundings.

I made it to Sedona by 4:30 thanks to traversing another time zone. I zipped past the Grand Canyon turnoffs and didn't even hesitate. The Grand Canyon is not this trip. I reentered population density in Flagstaff. It is a beautifully located city surrounded by the Coconono National Forest. 45 minutes later I pulled into downtown Sedona after a tree-lined drive through Coconino. All I will say about the little bit of the town I saw is it is better to stay outside the town. They should just get rid of the town. It's a bad marriage of Taos and Rodeo Drive.

Sedona sunset

More pictures on Facebook. Tomorrow, Palm Springs.