The Spirit of Sedona: A Journey of Self-Discovery
by Peggy Sijswerda
Travel to me is part escape and part discovery. When we leave our towns and cities behind, we seek escape. Yet we also hope to learn something: about the place we visit, the people there, and ourselves. I’d visited Phoenix once before for a writers’ conference and was charmed by its other-worldliness: the vast barren landscape, rugged mountains, and a sky that goes on forever.
That trip only whetted my appetite, so last fall I decided to revisit the area to try to find out what it is about the Southwest that tugs at my bones. But this time I would head to Sedona, two hours north of Phoenix, a place I’d always wanted to visit. Known for its heart-stirring beauty, Sedona is also a Mecca for the spiritually minded. Some say this spirituality has its roots in the Native American cultures that called these canyons home. Other say the beauty of the red mountains somehow awakens one’s soul and inspires personal journeys toward wellness. I was intrigued by the thought that a geographic location could bring out one’s spiritual side and wondered if I would succumb.
SACRED GROUND
One morning I met R.J., a handsome Native American wearing denim and a long black ponytail. The activity schedule at Enchantment Resort, where I was staying, had promised a drum and flute performance in a tipi, but R.J. strolled up to say the flute player had the flu. A family from Washington state arrived shortly after—Mom, Dad, and their 5-year-old son—and R.J. invited us to sit down at a picnic table beside the tipi for a talk about the canyon’s earliest residents.
What followed was a conversation I wish I had recorded. R.J. didn’t really talk. He delved—not just into the history of the area, but into my own personal spiritual beliefs. It’s almost as if I became the focus while R.J. patiently waited for me to open up so he could lead me down a path toward self-understanding. What was even odder was the family seemed to be part of the process. Surrounding me like a cocoon, these strangers reached out to me. Even five-year-old Christopher taught me something.
I asked R.J. about vortexes, which some believe to be energy fields scattered around Sedona. He scoffed at the idea and said a woman invented vortexes in the 1980s. “The spirit is here,” he said and pounded the dirt with his boot. “It’s sacred ground.”
When I admitted I’d been in a spiritual void lately, Chalice, Christopher’s mother, urged me to listen to the canyon. “Let the canyon say it,” she said with a serene smile. “The canyon pulled you here. Be open to what it has to say.”
R.J. talked about how hard it is for people today to accept the spirit. “People want to get zapped, to have a sudden spiritual experience,” he said, “but most people get little teaspoons.”
“Native Americans believe your sixth sense, your instinct, is your spirit,” Chalice said. “Trust it!”
“Pray for willingness to be open,” said R.J., whose spiritual teacher once told him to say, “God help me” over and over again every night before bed.
The conversation continued for about an hour, during which I listened, occasionally asking questions, feeling a growing sense of wonderment at being the focus of attention.
Christopher sat on his mother’s lap nearly the whole time, wearing a wise expression on his face. He didn’t squirm or interrupt. Something spiritual seemed to be at work in that child. It was if he were reminding me of the importance of patience.
CONNECTED TO ENLIGHTENMENT
On a whim I decided to visit a Buddhist stupa in Sedona. A stupa is a sacred altar, “the physical embodiment of the Buddha’s enlightened mind,” according to the brochure. It also said seeing a stupa “will imbue you with a blessing, will connect you to enlightenment.”
Enlightenment was just what I needed. At the edge of a tidy neighborhood, I followed a path decorated with colorful flags and lined by small white stones. Perched on the side of a mountain was a beautiful adobe structure about two stories high, topped by a pointy gold tower. A bronze statue of a praying Buddha peered out from an alcove about ten feet above the ground, and a few bells rang softly. I was alone, and it felt holy there.
The person who had told me about the stupa said I should walk around the structure ten times, but I had to walk clockwise. So after admiring the trinkets and gifts people left as offerings to the Buddha, I began walking around the stupa. After my third loop, I looked down at a sign with an arrow and realized I’d been walking around counter clockwise. Sheepishly, I turned around and started again. After about five loops tears sprang suddenly to my eyes. I waited for a voice to explain the tears, maybe even to share a little wisdom. None came. I kept walking around the stupa, and the tears ended as quickly as they’d appeared. When I returned to my car, a sense of peace enveloped me. Perhaps as the brochure says, I was touched by the “waves of compassion to all living things” that the Buddha radiates.
But there was an undercurrent of confusion. I wanted answers, not more questions. On my last day in Sedona, I would make significant progress in my journey of self-discovery.
LETTING GO
I awoke that day feeling different. It was probably due to the treatment I’d had the night before at Mii amo, Enchantment’s destination spa. Called Shirodhara, it began with a facial followed by the pouring of oil on my forehead, my “third eye.” I had seen pictures of this treatment many times and knew it would be amazing.
It was. Warm oil poured on your forehead sounds very odd, but something comforting seems to occur and you feel suspended in a strange in-between place, like the River Lethe in Dante’s Inferno. You forget everything and remember everything. You’re dreaming, but you’re awake. At the end I felt tired, but all my senses were sharpened. When I sat in the lounge resting, a fabric couch across from me appeared covered with faces: I could see Jesus, a child sucking his thumb, an elephant god, and the North Wind personified. What did it all mean?
In the morning I met Johanna, who owns Sedona Spirit Yoga and Hiking. Together we would visit a few vortex sites, hike, and learn a little yoga. What I liked about Johanna was her no-nonsense approach to the vortexes.
“The vortex is the circle of your energy connecting with the mystical red rock energy,” she explained. In other words, the energy was all around Sedona, not just a few places. The hard part for some people is accessing it, she said. “You have to practice the 4 Rs: relax, release, receive, and renew.”
Johanna led me to the Airport Mesa vortex, where we sat down on yoga mats and faced an incredible view. We began by meditating. Johanna instructed me to breathe in and then let go of my busy “monkey mind,” the thoughts that swarm around your brain nonstop. I tried to quell my thoughts and admitted it was hard.
“Meditating isn’t about achieving a totally clear mind,” she said. “You just want to make it a little clearer than it was.”
Next she told me to breathe in trust and then let go of my emotions. Suddenly tears began to stream from my eyes. I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t trust. I couldn't let go of my emotions. This is the lesson I came to Sedona to learn, I realized. I told Johanna that feelings of grief and sadness have haunted me ever since my daughter, Sierra, died nearly twenty years ago. I wasn’t sure I could ever let them go.
Johanna listened, and together we prayed and meditated. Although I didn’t hear any deep voices revealing shiny truths, somehow at the end of the experience I felt that I’d reached a new understanding. The challenge will be going to the next level and leaving the sadness behind.
Jesus went into the desert and found what he was looking for. I did, too. There’s something about the starkness of that environment, the rough edges, that makes it easy to bare your soul. Or perhaps it’s the spirit of the Native Americans that reaches up into your gut and finds your weak spot. I found mine, and you might find yours there, too.
For more information:
www.visitsedona.com
www.enchantmentresort.com
www.amitabhastupa.org
www.yogalife.net
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Phoenix: Find Your Pleasure
By Peggy Sijswerda
One morning I awakened just before sunrise and pulled on my hiking
boots. Half a mile from the resort where I was staying, Pinnacle Peak
rose up toward the heavens, and I couldn’t wait to climb to the top. As
the sky grew lighter in the east, I scurried across the desert to the
trailhead and began my climb, passing huge boulders and an occasional
suguaro cactus, shadowy forms along the trail. Just as I needed to
pause and catch my breath, the sun crested the horizon, and everything
glowed in a warm pink light.
The view was spectacular: Phoenix to the west, Scottsdale to the south,
and all around me suguaro cacti and palo verde trees lent a soft green
hue to the harsh landscape—harsh, that is if you don’t count the
million-dollar homes and lush golf courses that are slowly but surely
invading the desert.
I visited Phoenix and her sister city, Scottsdale, recently to learn
what all the fuss was about. As one of the country’s fastest-growing
regions, the Phoenix metro area has a population of about 3.5 million.
Census experts predict millions more will head to this haven in the
desert in the next two decades. So what’s the deal?
After a few days of pleasurable research, the answer was clear. Phoenix
has it all. Whether you’re looking for an awesome place to while away a
few days or a new location to enjoy your retirement, you’ll find
amazing amenities in the region, all adding up to a quality of life
that’s pure pleasure.
• Weather – You gotta love the weather—at least for eight or nine
months of the year. Except for summertime, when the sun glares down and
temps regularly peak in the 100s, the climate the rest of the year is
heavenly. Cobalt blue skies, warm sun, and low humidity provide the
perfect setting for your favorite pursuits.
• Outdoor Recreation – There are tons of things to do outdoors, and,
judging from the healthy folks I saw on Pinnacle Peak, all this outdoor
activity is a good way to stay fit and trim. Besides hiking on various
trails in the region, horseback riding is a popular pastime. One lovely
morning I saddled up a palomino named Yellow Jacket at Koli Equestrian
Center near Wild Horse Pass and joined Jeffrey, my trail guide, and
Sue, a more experienced rider from Britain. After we ambled a while,
Sue wanted to canter, and Jeffrey asked me if I was up for it. “Sure,”
I said. Next thing I knew Yellow Jacket bolted after Sue’s horse, Lobo.
I grabbed the saddle horn and held on tight. A few bone-wrenching
bounces later, I decided I wasn’t cut out to be a cowgirl. “Whoa!” I
shouted. The palomino slowed to a stroll as Jeffery trotted up and
said, “Mebbe we’ll just walk for a while.” I smiled gratefully. Riding
on the range in slow motion was just my speed.
• Spa – The Phoenix area must have invented destinations spas—or at
least perfected them. Some of the world’s most divine spas are
sprinkled among the red rock mountains and offer more than just
relaxing spa treatments. They offer an escape from reality. Willow
Stream at Fairmont Scottsdale Princess, for example, invites you to
“find your energy” at its 44,000 square foot facility, which features a
private rooftop oasis pool. After my “East Meets West” stone massage, I
couldn’t wait to sit under the waterfall that flows down from the pool.
Time stopped while the warm currents cascaded over my shoulders,
washing away my worries. When I left Willow Stream, I felt relaxed and
energized at the same time.
• Shopping – What better state to begin a shopping expedition? And
Phoenix has shopping venues for all tastes and budgets. If you’re
seeking authentic Southwestern art and unique boutiques, head to
Downtown Scottsdale, a cozy neighborhood with over 400 galleries and
shops. Other options include Biltmore Fashion Park and Desert Ridge
Marketplace in Phoenix. Or for those who love to bargain, visit one of
the area’s flea markets, known in the Southwest as Swap Meets. Along
with a few good deals, you’ll find colorful characters ready to share a
story or two.
• Golf – While I’ve never golfed—unless you count putt-putt, that is—I
was tempted to pick up a club and swing in Phoenix. The metro area
features 200+ courses, earning it the title “Golf Capital of the
World,” according to the National Golf Federation. While greens fees
can be steep, those in the know golf in summer in the early morning
hours and enjoy fabulous golf for a reasonable price.
• Cuisine – It should come as no surprise that an area as alluring as
Phoenix is also home to world-class dining establishments. For example,
Wright’s at the Biltmore offers “handcrafted” American lodge cuisine in
a Frank Lloyd Wright-inspired atmosphere. During my visit I ordered the
tasting menu, a sublime five-course meal that began with lobster and
truffle corn soup that dazzled my taste buds. Next I relished flavorful
smoked beef carpacio, followed by a delicate salad of mizuna and tomato
marmalade. The main course was a prime New York loin encrusted in
pepper, served rare and juicy. A chocolate macadamia tort, smooth and
silky, provided the perfect finish. After dinner, I strolled through
the grounds of the legendary Arizona Biltmore, a majestic masterpiece
designed by a student of Frank Lloyd Wright.
Another evening I dined at Kai, a five-diamond restaurant at the
Sheraton Wild Horse Pass. An elegant room with soft light, taupe tones,
and minimalist decor set the stage for an amazing meal I’ll never
forget. The tasting menu offered creative combinations of familiar
foods and traditional Native American ingredients. Peeky-toe crab with
grilled papaya relish began the meal and a fire-roasted corn brulée
took the final bow. Everything in between was a culinary work of
art—both in the presentation and flavor. Besides the inspiring food and
the elegant surroundings, the service at Kai was unequalled—from the
Pima greeting the waiter welcomed me with to the story he told based on
the original watercolor painting that graced the menu. Such an
over-the-top dining experience is worth indulging in at least once in
your life.
• Arts – Phoenix has more than its fair share of arts offerings. From
acclaimed art museums to theater and performing arts, you’ll find
plenty to keep you entertained. I recommend a visit to Taliesin West to
see Frank Lloyd Wright’s winter “camp,” which also serves as a campus
of his architectural school. Pam, our tour guide, said that Mr. Wright
designed the buildings to take advantage of nature’s beauty. “He
thought it was important to live with beauty,” she explained. As I
wandered around Taliesin West, I gained a new respect for this
much-maligned genius, whose work remains groundbreaking.
• Culture – Phoenix’s world-famous Heard Museum showcases Native
American art and history. The katsina dolls, a mesmerizing collection
of brightly painted wooden figures portraying spiritual messengers are
a must-see. Another cultural attraction is Rawhide at Wild Horse Pass,
an authentic Western frontier town that invites visitors to see the
Wild West come to life—perfect for families.
• Destination Resorts – Ever since The Arizona Biltmore opened in 1929,
this region has been known for its over-the-top resorts. In fact,
you’ll be hard pressed to find such a concentration of luxurious
resorts anywhere. My favorites are Arizona Biltmore; Four Seasons
Resort Scottsdale, in a secluded spot beside Pinnacle Peak; Fairmont
Scottsdale Princess, perfect for families and golfers; Hotel Valley Ho,
popular with visiting Hollywood types; and finally Sheraton Wild Horse
Pass, located on the Gila River reservation and steeped in Indian
culture. The resort even has a cultural concierge, Ginger Sunbird
Martin, who highlights the history of the Pima and Maricopa tribes
during property tours for guests.
In autumn, the Sheraton Wild Horse Pass offers Native American
storytelling. One evening Tim Terry, a member of the Gila River
community, shared songs and stories around a crackling fire as the sun
dipped behind the distant mountain range. My favorite was his tale
about Baby Cloud, who tended to wander off from Mama and Papa Cloud.
One day a mean mountain captured Baby Cloud and wouldn’t let him go
until he promised not to wander off again.
I can’t imagine why Baby Cloud left in the first place.
For more information:
• www.visitphoenix.com
• www.experiencescottsdale.com
• www.wildhorsepassresort.com
• www.willowstream.com
• www.fairmont.com
• www.fourseasons.com
• www.hotelvalleyho.com
• www.arizonabiltmore.com
###
Sonoma Sojourn
By Peggy Sijswerda
My horse’s name is Copper, and in the brilliant California sunshine, his coat shines as though it’s been freshly polished. Copper and I are riding along the beach at Bodega Bay with Constance, our trail guide; Ruth, a nurse from San Francisco; and her daughter, Kristen, a graduate student in San Diego.
Ruth and Kristen, like me, are here on this lonely stretch of shoreline, flecked with driftwood and seashells, to experience a fantasy I think every woman must share—horseback riding on the beach—and we couldn’t have chosen a better day for it.
The cool Pacific breeze, the warm September sun, and the sound of the waves crashing on the sand sharpen my senses, making me feel incredibly alive and in the moment. Together with the rhythm of Copper’s stride, the creaking saddle, and the salty-sweet smell of leather mixed up with the musty scent of horse—it all adds up to a sensory experience I’ll always remember.
Most of the time we amble along the beach and through the sandy trails, but every so often Constance prompts us to try a fast-paced trot. During one of these yee-hah interludes, Copper heads down a sloping sand dune, and I feel gravity grab hold of me, turning my yee-hah into yikes! It’s all I can do to stay in the saddle, but somehow I manage until Copper slows down.
Back at Chanslor Ranch, I dismount and begin to feel soreness in muscles I never knew existed. Constance tells me that riding horses is therapeutic. “People love the relaxation,” she says as she leads Copper to the water trough. “It’s like a mini get-away.”
For me it’s more than that. I’m getting in touch with my inner cowgirl.
Traveling alone on the West Coast is all about getting in touch with my inner “me,” the one that’s buried beneath mom, wife, daughter, friend, editor, laundry lady, dog feeder, and chauffeur. The idea sprouts when my mom says she wants to visit her sisters in Santa Rosa, but she isn’t quite up to traveling by herself. I offer to accompany her, and she says if I find a good fare, she’ll pay my way. Before long, an amazing fare appears on my computer screen as if by magic: $150 round trip Norfolk to Oakland on American Airlines. I thank my fairy godmother for helping me find such a bargain.
When I tell Peter, my dear husband, that I want to go away for six days, he gives his blessing. “Are you sure?” I ask. “I feel a little guilty about leaving you and the kids.”
“Peggy,” he answers, “it’s very quiet when you’re not around.” Hmmm, I’m not quite sure I like the message between those lines, but I won’t let it worry me at the moment. I’m too excited about my trip.
When the departure day arrives, Mom does fine as we make our way out West. Soon we’re settled into Auntie Margie’s apartment, snacking on spicy guacamole and drinking red wine. My aunts are disappointed that I won’t be sticking around Santa Rosa after I spend the night with them, but I’ve promised to come by for brunch on Sunday, which is also my birthday.
“What are you going to do on your travels?” asks Auntie Jeanne.
“Whatever I want,” I answer with a smile.
ESSENTIAL INGREDIENTS OF LIFE
Taking a solo vacation may not be everyone’s preference, but according to Oprah, the sage of modern culture, women should go on retreat at least once a year—if possible, completely alone. Of course, joining a bus tour bound for Branson or a bicycle trip in Provence is one way of traveling solo, but in any group activity, you end up not really being alone. My goal on this trip is to find a few tranquil moments when the swirl of life subsides for a few seconds, and I can try to remember what it is I want from life and take stock of whether I’m getting there.
Sonoma County is my chosen destination, an area rich with all the essential ingredients of life. Besides its superb wines, the region boasts a wealth of organic farms and chic restaurants whose innovative fare makes good use of the area’s bounty. Sonoma County is also rich in natural splendor. From the beaches along its western edge to the Russian River Valley that cuts across the northern boundary, nature lovers can find any number of outdoor activities to enjoy. Camping is popular in Sonoma County, especially near the coast, and you’ll find idyllic spots to pitch a tent, have a picnic, or fly a kite in one of the many regional and state parks in the region.
While I do enjoy camping, I decide to spoil myself and stay at the Bodega Bay Lodge and Spa. This lovely property is perfect for a retreat. With a charming rustic ambience and cozy rooms that overlook Bodega Bay, the lodge makes it easy to let go of the stress of modern life. Many rooms feature fireplaces complete with easy-burning logs, and suites offer a couch and comfy armchair perfect for curling up with a good book in hand.
After my horseback riding adventure, Ruth and Kristen join me for lunch at the Sandpiper Restaurant in Bodega Bay. A cute mom-and-pop place, The Sandpiper is actually owned by Steve Weissmann and Ron MacDonald. I try their world-famous clam chowder and delight in its rich, creamy texture and flavorful bits of potatoes and clams. For a main course, I choose the Wasabi Tuna, which our server, Brad, tells us is a popular menu item. A tanned blonde, Brad admits to surfing every day and makes me miss my son Jasper, who also loves to ride the waves.
In fact, the Pacific Ocean is omnipresent in this corner of California. Almost daily throughout the warmer months, fog steals in from the ocean and blankets the coastline. In fact after lunch when Ruth, Kristen, and I tour the University of California’s Marine Lab on Bodega Head, the bright blue sky disappears and the sun dims as a cold breeze blows the fog in over the land. Luckily, much of the tour is inside, where we learn about underwater habitats of the Pacific coastal waters. We do brave the weather to explore a tidal pool outside the facility, where we meet a young family whose daughters delight in touching the sea creatures. I hold a sea urchin, whose purple-plum spikes tickle my palm as he scoots across.
After saying goodbye to Ruth and Kristen, I head back to Bodega Bay Lodge to take a relaxing bath in the jetted tub and unwind before dining at the Duck Club, the on-site restaurant. Dinner is divine: succulent lamb chops—medium rare—accompanied by flavorful mashed potatoes and fresh vegetables, cooked al dente, just the way I like them. It’s a delightful ending to a dreamy day.
SENSE OF PEACE
The next morning I discover the fog remains glued to the bay and the surrounding hills, but I like it. The fog’s cozy somehow and adds to the sense of isolation in this place. I decide to skip my planned morning kayak expedition and instead make coffee, throw a log on the fire, and curl up with a book. I spend a blissful morning reading, listening to the fire crackle, and enjoying its warmth. Then I hop in my rental car for a drive north along the coast.
It’s eerie with the fog everywhere, and I’m reminded of Alfred Hitchcock’s The Birds, the shocking black-and-white film from the 60’s, which was filmed in the area. Without the sunlight to make everything colorful, the landscape and buildings I pass by appear ghostly, in shades of gray ranging from dark to light.
Out of the corner of my eye I see a sign that says Children’s Memorial, and I turn the car around. There across a foggy field stands the bell tower erected in the memory of Nicholas Green, the boy who was killed in 1994 by highway thieves in Italy while vacationing with his family, who live here in Bodega Bay. Nicholas’ family donated his organs to seven Italians, who have been able to live healthier lives, thanks to the Greens’ generosity of spirit.
I turn off the car, get out, and walk down the path to the tower. It’s very quiet, but every minute or so the wind stirs and the bells tinkle mournfully. I stop at a shrine with a bronze sculpture of Nicholas and a plaque that invites all who come here to enjoy the park as Nicholas himself would have done. On top of the altar is an assortment of toys and letters from children who visit the site. I read one from a girl who’s staying at a nearby campground. She writes, “I’m sorry you had to die.”
As a bereaved parent myself, I find a sense of peace here although it’s also incredibly sad. I walk over to the bell tower and read another plaque that tells more about Nicholas’ tragic death and the good that has come from it. I learn the bells in the tower have all been donated by the people of Italy. I rest on a bench beside the tower and listen as the bells ring softly, sounding different notes, almost as if nature is composing a continuous song. I’m sure other bereaved parents have made pilgrimages to this place and, like me, find solace here.
WHISPERING WISDOM
Heading up the coast, I drive through the fog high on bluffs overlooking the Pacific. Surfers down below in their slick wetsuits look like sea lions, and I watch them catch a few waves. Slowly the sun filters through the fog, and by the time I turn east and drive along the Russian River toward Guerneville, I find myself peeling off my jacket as the fog dissipates and the sun takes command of the sky once more.
After a brief stop at Korbel Champagne Cellars, where I join a lively tour and tasting, I stop for a short hike in the Armstrong Redwood Forest. It’s late in the afternoon, and as I hike alone beneath the massive redwoods, I find myself relaxing, emptying my mind of all thoughts and worries. It’s almost as if these magnificent giant trees, so old and tenacious, are whispering wisdom. I only have to stop and listen. In the silence with the pine smell all around, I feel very small but glad to be alone.
An hour later I’m anything but alone. I’m sitting at a chic restaurant in Sebastopol, a cozy town with an old-fashioned main street and lots of charm. It’s Saturday night, and the place is packed. A Celtic Festival has drawn lots of folks into town for the weekend, and a big table near me is overflowing with musicians and Celtic aficionados.
It feels strange to be alone, yet surrounded by others who are eating, drinking, and conversing with friends. I’ve eaten by myself before, but never in a chic restaurant—where the idea is to take your time and savor your food, as opposed to gobbling it down before rushing off to a meeting or an appointment.
A margarita with a bite, touted as a house specialty, helps me to relax, and I begin my culinary journey into California cuisine. I choose appetizers in lieu of a main course, preferring to eat lightly. The special this evening—homemade ravioli filled with red and golden beets in a light, cream sauce—melts in my mouth. The heirloom tomato salad features purple tomatoes and clumps of fresh mozzarella bathed in a savory olive oil vinaigrette. Hearty fish cakes add tasty protein to the mix, and a local Pinot Noir provides a juicy accompaniment.
As the meal comes to an end, I realize I’ve forgotten about the people around me. The simple pleasure of tasty food makes you feel at home no matter where you are: eating a hot dog on a street in New York, picnicking in a meadow with crackers and brie, or sitting by yourself in a crowded restaurant. The key is to surrender yourself to the moment, savoring the tastes and smells, the sights and sounds that swirl around you.
OPEN TO EXPERIENCE
The next afternoon I’m surrounded again by good food and wine. My Sonoma sojourn has coincided with the Russian River Food and Wine Fest in Guerneville. I only wish I were hungry.
Just an hour ago I finished a scrumptious brunch at my aunts’ retirement community in Santa Rosa. A fine spread of fresh, local delicacies, the brunch featured some of my all-time favorite foods: ripe avocados, buttery and flavorful; fresh figs, plump, purple, and sweet; crisp, bright green asparagus, barely cooked; a selection of cheeses; and chilled champagne to top it off. Two of my California cousins joined us, and it was great to be with family on my birthday.
Now as I look around the meadow, the food fest in full swing, I marvel at the perfect weather and the beautiful ambience here. I feel alone in this place, but it’s not unpleasant. As I look around at the smiling faces, the tall redwoods, the blue sky, everything seems to be in sharp focus. It’s as if being in a strange place helps you see things more clearly—for isn’t it true that when we go through the daily tasks of life—commuting to work, shopping at Walmart, taking kids to soccer practice—the landscape around us melts into a sort of blur? We stop seeing.
This trip has helped me see with new eyes. I’m finding, too, that I’m able to let the cares of day-to-day life seep through the cracks, leaving me renewed. It’s as if I’m open to experience again, instead of deadened by it. I think about the fantasy horseback ride, the bells in Nicolas’ Green’s tower, the walk through the silent redwood forest, even dinner at Lucy’s. Like a child, I’m learning to appreciate simple pleasures once more.
www.chanslorranch.com
www.bodegabaylodge.com
www.sandpiperrestaurant.com
www.bml.ucdavis.edu
www.nicholasgreen.org
www.korbel.com
www.russianrivertravel.com/parks-armstrong.htm
www.russianriverfoodandwinefest.com
www.korbel.com
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Moon Over Monterey
by Peggy Sijswerda
Back in my salad days, I thought of California as more than a state. It was a state of mind. Having read On the Road by Jack Kerouac, I dreamed of rolling across America, as he did, westward in search of adventure. I was drawn both to the journey itself and the devil-may-care lifestyle Kerouac and his friends embodied. Big Sur, a mountain range that serves as the title of another of Kerouac’s books, likewise became mythic in my mind: mountains rising up put of the sea, windswept pines, and cozy cabins—all representing a lifestyle dramatically different from the flat seascapes of my East Coast upbringing.
Now finally I would come face to face with Big Sur. Heading south on Highway One, I found myself driving through an amazing landscape, following a twisting, two-lane road along ridges high above a rocky coastline, As I drove, I began to wonder what Big Sur would be like: a tourist town, a traffic light, or little more than a bump in the road. I continued driving and suddenly noticed my gas tank was getting low. Uh-oh. This wild, untamed corner of the world doesn’t seem to have too many gas stations, I realized. When I finally passed by a small store with gas pumps, I was horrified to see the gas was $4.00 a gallon. I went a bit further and found that Big Sur is more than a geographic location: it’s about isolation, being removed from the world. O.K. I get it, I said, and pointed the car northward toward civilization and more civilized gas prices.
After I filled up the car, I found plenty to do closer to town. In fact, Monterey County offers a wide variety of activities for vacationers. Whether you’re looking for up-close encounters with nature or a taste of culture, this diverse corner of California has what you’re after.
Besides Kerouac, Monterey County has been home to a contingent of other writers and artists, most notably John Steinbeck, who immortalized Cannery Row, a sardine canning plant along the waterfront, now the site of the Monterey Aquarium, a popular tourist attraction with award-winning exhibits. Much of the inspiration for the Aquarium comes from the wealth of sea life just outside the facility. The Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary, which stretches along the Pacific Coast, provides a treasure trove of habitats for an array of plants and animals.
The Monterey Aquarium recreates some of these habitats, making it easy for visitors to peer into the mysteries beneath the sea. A three-story kelp forest, for example, provides insight into the crucial role these sea plants play in maintaining the ocean’s ecosystems. I loved watching the giant plants dance in the sea currents.
Another favorite exhibit is the Splash Zone, where South African blackfooted penguins strut and swim to the delight of visitors. Nearby children are welcome to learn about marine life with hands-on activities. Kids can crawl through a coral tunnel, climb into a giant clamshell, and examine sea creatures in a touch tank. An exhibit on the cannery is also found in the aquarium, as well as information on John Steinbeck.
As an English major, I knew I had to make my way to the National Steinbeck Center in Salinas, which is about a half hour inland. On the way I passed through Salinas Valley, which produces a substantial portion of our country’s vegetables. There in one of the fields, I watched workers cutting heads of fresh, green lettuce, wrapping them in plastic, and packing them in boxes, ready to ship to a grocery store near you. I read that between May and November, growers in the region harvest six million heads of lettuce each day! Other produce grown here include artichokes, broccoli, onions, cauliflower, garlic, strawberries, mushrooms, and wine grapes. Over a quarter million acres in Monterey County are devoted to growing produce.
You can learn more about the importance of agriculture in this region at The National Steinbeck Center, where an exhibit called Valley of the World tells about the history and innovations that have combined to create this lush, fruitful land. Computer stations invite kids of all ages to learn about vegetables and even vote for their favorite. (Believe it or not, broccoli was in the lead when I visited.)
Most folks visit The National Steinbeck Center to learn more about John Steinbeck, one of our country’s greatest authors. Exhibits tell of Steinbeck’s youth as a hired hand working in the fields and ranches of Monterey County and his journey toward a writing career. Themed galleries bring many of Steinbeck’s novels to life with film clips and stage settings. Having just read Travels with Charley, Steinbeck’s travelogue from the early 60’s. I was happy to discover in the exhibit the very truck that carried the author and his standard poodle across America and back again.
My next stop was a nearby animal facility called Wild Things, which is home to an assortment of wild animals available for rent. In fact, Josef, a stately lion who lives at the compound, served as the model for Disney’s The Lion King. Other famous stars include Kolar and Kally, two of the world’s most photographed tigers and Georgia, a Himalayan Baboon who modeled for Mighty Joe Young and appeared in a Pepsi commercial. Schoolchildren regularly tour the facility to learn about the exotic animals.
Heading back to the coast, I stopped in one of Carmel Valley’s wineries: Chateau Julien, where I met Melinda Klescewski, a tall blonde who showed me around the grounds. A lush piece of property, Chateau Julien is reminiscent of French country estates and offers the perfect climate for growing grapes, thanks to its setting in a protected canyon. Under the warm afternoon sun, Marta Kraftzeck, a winemaker, was finishing up her duties for the day, one of which was decidedly low tech. It seems their grapes were among the few remaining on the vines and therefore the area’s starling population had targeted Chateau Jullien’s fruit as ripe for the picking. Marta had a trash can cover and a large stick that successfully scared off the starlings.
Marta said the warmth of the Salinas Valley is perfect for growing red grapes. Regarding the winemaking process, she said, “So much of what I do is keeping an eye on it. I’m just a guide.” Marta’s favorite wine? The 1998 Syrah. “It goes well with pizza,” she said with a laugh. A few minutes later in the tasting room, Melinda offered samples of Chateau Julien’s reserve wines. I particularly liked the 1999 Cabernet, a full-bodied wine with a smooth finish.
That evening I sat on my balcony overlooking Monterey Bay, a glass of wine in hand, listening to the waves break beneath my window and waiting for the moon to rise. Across the bay, the shore was dotted with lights, and beyond them a ridge rose up to the sky. Patiently I waited and soon a sliver of silver light broke above the shadowy outline of the ridge, and bright moon rays soon began to warm up the inky black sky. Within moments the bay sparkled with dancing white diamonds, a train of them linking me to the moon over Monterey.
For general information, visit www.montereyinfo.org or call 888-221-1010.
Where To Stay:
The Monterey Plaza Hotel and Spa - Situated right beside the Pacific, this property offers unmatched views of the coastline. Visit www.woodsidehotels.com or call 800-533-9334.
What To Do:
• Monterey Aquarium – Visit www.montereyaquarium.com or call 831-648-4888.
• The National Steinbeck Center – Visit www.steinbeck.org or call 831-796-3833.
• Wild Things – Inquire about their safari tent accommodations. Visit www.wildthingsinc.com or call 831-455-1901.
• Chateau Julien – Visit www.chateaujulien.com or call 831-624-2600.
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California Dreaming
by Peggy Sijswerda
A stiff breeze of 18-20 knots propelled our 24-foot sailboat across San Francisco Bay. The small craft seemed a poor match for the four-foot swells that crashed over the bow, showering us with cold, wet spray. But Capt. Dave didn’t seem worried, and despite the rough seas, I was enjoying each splash and crash of the hull; the sharp, fresh breeze in my face; the salty smell of sea air; even the drops of water that began to soak through my clothes.
Unfortunately, my sister-in-law, Judy, sitting beside me in the cockpit, wasn’t exactly sharing my enthusiasm.
I knew we were in trouble when we drove up to the marina, and Judy said, “I probably should have brought some seasick pills.” I suddenly remembered Judy’s disastrous experience on a Caribbean cruise with my brother, Tim: she was seasick practically the whole time.
“Do you still want to go sailing?” I asked.
“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be all right.”
Good, I thought. I was looking forward to our sail. I grew up scudding across the waters of the Rappahannock River in my dad’s 34-foot Pearson and have happy memories of laid-back afternoons drinking beer and picking crabs while drifting downwind in light summer breezes.
After we checked in at Spinnaker Sailing, which I learned about on the Internet, I asked Bob, the friendly owner, if the marina sold wine and snacks in their small store. He shook his head and asked why.
“Well, I thought we could sip on some wine during our sunset sail,” I answered.
“Have you seen what you’ll be sailing on?” he asked, pointing to the dock, where small sailboats bobbed in the breeze. “I don’t think you’ll be able to sip wine while you’re out there.”
Truer words were never spoken.
Soon we were rocking and rolling across the bay. Judy, I noticed, was beginning to get a little green around the edges. I told the captain and the other members of our crew—a retired gentleman who lived nearby and a young man from Taiwan—about my plan for sunset cocktails, and we all had a hearty laugh—except for Judy, that is, who grew sicker by the minute.
Capt. Dave was prepared, however, and coached Judy through the rough spots, offering bits of ginger, sips of tea, and fatherly advice. Finally, after leaning over the side as the rest of us tried not to notice, Judy began to feel better. She even took over the helm for a while on the return journey—even though she didn’t want to. Capt. Dave insisted, however, knowing that if Judy stayed busy steering the boat, she wouldn’t think about her seasickness.
On the dock, to everyone’s amazement, Judy said she wanted to sign up for sailing lessons when she got back home. “But I’ll probably have to take seasick pills to be on the safe side,” she said smiling.
A BALM FOR THE SOUL
Our wet-and-wild sailing adventure was the first of many activities we’d scheduled for our weeklong girlfriend getaway to California, a vacation Judy and I had been planning for months. While both of us relish traveling with our families, we decided to leave our husbands and kids at home and indulge in a little “we” time. Instead of refereeing sibling squabbles or bickering with spouses about which road to take, Judy and I opted to take off on our own, planning an itinerary that included a little adventure, a touch of luxury, and a lot of fun.
We rendezvoused in Oakland after flying in on separate flights, rented a car, and drove to a hotel in Sunnyvale called Wild Palms, which I’d found on the Internet. It’s owned by a San Francisco hotelier named Chip Conley, who’s made a name for himself by opening a string of quality hotels in the region. Each property evokes its own personality, sometimes whimsical, occasionally bohemian, often elegant, always comfortable—perfect for vacationers as well as business travelers. Wild Palms, Judy and I discovered after checking in, was a delightful oasis with a Far East feel, brightly painted murals, and unique décor—kinda funky, definitely fun.
With an hour to spare before our sunset sail, Judy and I plopped down poolside under a brilliant blue sky as the California sun warmed our weary bones. “Yes!” we said in unison, happy to be away from our normal lives and all set to enjoy a week on our own.
Or were we?
As we reclined on comfy chaise lounges, Judy confided that she’d almost called me the day before to say she wasn’t coming. I bolted upright. “What?” I said incredulously.
“I started thinking about being away from my kids,” she said, “and I just got a panicky feeling and thought maybe I shouldn’t come.”
I looked at her in amazement. I mean, I love my kids, my husband, too, but an occasional vacation without them is a balm for my soul, a welcome chance to take a deep breath and concentrate on my own needs and wants for a change. The last two years, I’d brought my mother out to California to visit her sisters, and each time I’d done some solo traveling. Having Judy with me on this trip made it special. I could share some of my favorite places with her, and together we would discover new ones.
Now she was telling me she wasn’t so keen to be here.
“This is the first time I’ve ever been on a vacation by myself since I got married,” Judy said. “I just wasn’t sure I wanted to leave my family, but I felt obligated to come, Peggy, so here I am.”
I smiled. “I’m glad you’re here, Judy. It’ll be fun. You’ll stop worrying about the kids in a day or two, I bet.” But Judy didn’t look convinced.
Not that there’s anything wrong with being homesick. Missing your family is normal—I always miss mine when I’m away from home—but I believe it’s a good idea to shake things up now and then. When you’re gone, your family sees firsthand how much you do for them because—guess what? You’re not there doing it! Plus getting away helps you rediscover who you are on the inside and how you fit into the world around you. I think women need to have a break from their families periodically, and I hoped Judy would end up feeling reinvigorated by our girlfriend getaway.
Hopefully, she’d even enjoy herself in the process.
LINGERING MEMORIES
The next day started off with a bang—literally—when my hardboiled egg exploded in the microwave at breakfast. (Hint: cut the peeled egg in half before heating.) After checking out of Wild Palms, we navigated the rental car to Rancho San Antonio County Park in Los Altos, where we planned to get in the first of many hikes. It was a crystal clear morning, and with sunscreen properly applied and hats on our heads, we found the trailhead—and beside it a sign that said “Mountain Lion Habitat.” Like good little Girl Scouts, Judy and I stopped and read what to do if we encountered a mountain lion: “Face lion. Back away slowly. Be large. Shout.” Hmmm. I suddenly wished my husband were handy—just in case a mountain lion sauntered in our path.
Fortunately, on this Sunday morning, the park was swarming with hikers—and joggers, model airplane enthusiasts, baby strollers, and folks just out to enjoy the beautiful morning. I doubted a mountain lion would want to wander into this busy park. We did see some wild turkeys roosting, but that was about it for wildlife.
Next we headed toward the coast, following Pescadero Road to Sam McDonald County Park, which straddles the coastal mountain range. Here the scenery changed from grassland and chaparral to pinewood forests that smelled of earth’s beginnings. The trail led us past old-growth redwoods and lush ferns shrouded in mist—so different from the sunny park we’d left only a half hour ago.
After a peaceful walk, Judy and I changed out of our hiking clothes into smart outfits and high heels in the park’s restroom, prompting surprised looks from hikers passing by. But we didn’t mind. We wanted to look our best for the next phase of our trip: a rendezvous at the Ritz-Carlton at Half Moon Bay.
I once enjoyed an amazing meal in Navio, the Portuguese-themed restaurant of this stunning resort, located about an hour’s drive from San Francisco, and vowed to return. I couldn’t wait to show Judy this idyllic property, which resembles a Scottish castle perched atop cliffs overlooking a vast expanse of sea. Staying overnight was indeed a splurge, but I’m a firm believer that we all need to be spoiled every once in a while. Whether we treat ourselves to a massage, a steak dinner, or a night in a luxurious resort, such indulgences are what make life worth living.
If you’re curious why the Ritz-Carlton brand is considered by many to be the pinnacle of luxury hotels and resorts, the answer can be summed up in one word: service. Staff at the resort exudes warmth and politeness. You won’t encounter snootiness here—instead smiling faces that appear as if by magic and say, “It’s our pleasure,” the Ritz-Carlton’s trademark response to just about any request you might make.
While golf is a favorite activity for guests at the Ritz-Carlton, Half Moon Bay, Judy and I chose to avail ourselves of its other popular amenity: the Spa. While our budget didn’t allow for treatments, we luxuriated in the whirlpool, sauna, and steam room—all complimentary for guests—and then, dressed in our evening clothes, we sauntered downstairs to enjoy a glass of wine on the outdoor terrace before dinner. A piper appeared in full regalia just before sunset and played hauntingly beautiful tunes, a tradition that signals day’s end. Judy and I sipped wine and marveled at our surroundings.
“Are you homesick, Judy?” I asked.
She’d spoken with her family at least twice since we arrived yesterday. My brother, Tim, had grumbled a bit about her being gone, Judy said, but the kids all seemed fine.
“I think I’m doing OK,” she answered. “In fact, it’s kinda nice not having to worry about what your kids are doing all the time.” Judy paused. “And it’s probably good for them to be less dependent on me. I’m sure they’ll be fine.”
I began to think that my sister-in-law would be fine as well.
Dinner that evening in Navio was extraordinary. Judy and I ordered the tasting menu, which featured chilled heirloom tomato soup flavored with a hint of strawberry and balsamic vinegar; a Maine lobster morsel served with a beet ravioli on a bed of beet greens; seared foie gras with chanterelle mushrooms and summer truffles; lamb ribeye served with summer vegetable pressé; brie fondue with local artichokes and potato gnocchi; and for dessert, chocolate encrusted passion fruit served with sesame, lime, and coconut sorbet. The wine pairings provided perfect accompaniment, and the service was astonishing. The entire meal lasted well over two hours, but the pleasant memories linger still.
A GLOW DEEP INSIDE
To balance the budget, Judy and I spent the following day pursuing low-cost or free activities: exploring the cute town of Half Moon Bay with its unique shops and boutiques; drinking a tasty micro-brew on the terrace of the Half Moon Bay Brewery under the warm sun; cruising south on Route 1, where amazing scenery unfurled around every curve; hiking on a coastal trail, where we chanced upon a seal frolicking in the water; and eating dinner in Duarte’s Tavern, a landmark in Pescadero since 1894. Judy and I loved the authentic atmosphere and friendly staff, and swooned over the cream of green chile and cream of artichoke soup (ask for half-and-half—both in one bowl) and the tasty calamari steak sandwich.
That night we stayed at Pigeon Point Lighthouse, a youth hostel on the coast that’s been described as “one gorgeous hostel.” Having stayed in a few in my lifetime, I have to agree. The hostel rooms are actually housed in restored lighthouse keepers’ quarters, each one offering a living room, kitchen, and various bedrooms, most shared rooms with bunks. Judy and I booked the private room, which was clean and comfortable. The best part about staying at Pigeon Point is its hot tub, which sits on a bluff overlooking the ocean. When Judy and I had our soak, it was after dark and kind of spooky listening to the waves crash against the cliffs below us. Sunset would be an ideal time to visit the hot tub. In any case, this hostel—while not exactly the Ritz—has a charming ambience, and its location can’t be beat.
In the morning we returned to Half Moon Bay for a horseback ride on the beach. On the way to the stables, Judy confided in me that she’d never gone horseback riding before.
“You know, Peggy, I’m doing a lot of things on this trip I’ve never done before,” she said and started counting on her fingers. “Traveling without my family, sailing, staying at a Ritz-Carlton, the tasting menu, having a sauna, now horseback riding. I’m having a really good time, Peggy. I’m glad I came.”
Her words made me feel happy and honored to be with her as she experienced these “firsts.” Doing something the first time is special. You feel a warm glow from somewhere deep inside as you accomplish a new goal in life. It doesn’t matter if you’re alone or surrounded by a crowd, you feel an intense satisfaction within your soul: “I did it!” you say to yourself, feeling proud, humble, and happy—all at the same time.
As our trip progressed, Judy would experience a few more “firsts.” Each time she accomplished something new, I saw her eyes light up and knew that she was achieving something more important—a chance to get to know her self again.
For more information, visit these websites:
• Wild Palms Hotel - www.jdvhospitality.com
• Sunset Sail www.spinnakersailing.com
• Rancho San Antonio County Park - www.parkhere.org
• Sam McDonald County Park - www.co.sanmateo.ca.us
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Yosemite: Back-to-Nature Girlfriend Getaway
by Peggy Sijswerda
“Look out for the bears,” the hiker said as he passed Judy and me during our hike in Yosemite National Park last September.
“A mom and her two cubs are eating acorns in a tree,” his companion added. “You have to walk right under them.”
My sister-in-law and I looked at each other and smiled. We were halfway down a four-mile trail that descends from Glacier Point, and seeing a bear was high on our “wanna-do” list. But walking underneath a mother bear and two cubs? We weren’t sure we wanted to get that close to nature. On the other hand, we certainly didn’t want to turn around and hike back up the trail. Feeling like intrepid explorers, Judy and I continued down the trail to face the bears.
TRANQUIL OASIS
This was the final day of our back-to-nature girlfriend getaway in one of the world’s most unique playgrounds. For years I’d heard about Yosemite from friends who are outdoor enthusiasts and seen images of its granite formations in Ansel Adam’s remarkable photographs. But it wasn’t until I arrived here that I really got what it is about Yosemite that’s so extraordinary.
Simply put, the park offers twelve hundred square miles of scenery that truly takes your breath away. Whether you’re touring the valley floor, where the Merced River winds past massive granite walls and wildflower-studded meadows, or standing seven thousand feet up in the air on top of Glacier Point, this region is a tranquil oasis in a world where big box stores are spreading like a terminal disease.
In fact, when you view the vista that spreads before you atop Glacier Point, you might even think you took a wrong turn somewhere and ended up on the moon, not in California’s Sierra Nevada mountain range. It’s a haunting, desolate landscape that transports you in mind and spirit to a different reality.
Turbulence at the earth’s core helped create this masterpiece, a process that began 500 million years ago when the Sierra Nevadas were submerged beneath the sea. In time geologic processes—sedimentation, compression, subduction, and intense heat from deep within the earth—resulted in magma that rose to the surface, returned underground, cooled, and eventually turned into granite.
Fast forward a few thousand millennia to the Ice Age, when glaciers advanced into a valley cut by the Merced River and began carving out the bedrock. When temperatures rose fifteen thousand years ago, the bottom of the valley became a lake. Eventually sediment displaced the water, creating the flat, picturesque valley floor visitors see today.
With granite walls rising up in every direction, the valley, roughly seven miles long and one mile wide, feels cozy to me in spite of its immensity, like a giant’s living room, a hiding place from the rest of the world.
INTO THE WILD
Judy and I had planned our girlfriend getaway to Yosemite for months. While this destination is, in fact, a perfect vacation option for families, we decided to leave our husbands and kids at home and indulge in a little “we” time. Instead of refereeing sibling squabbles or bickering with spouses about which road to take, Judy and I took off on our own. Both of us love the outdoors and relished the idea of spending time hiking and encountering nature up close.
While a variety of lodging options are available in the park—from rustic camping to the exclusive Ahwahnee Hotel, Judy and I chose to stay in an upscale property near Yosemite’s southern entrance. A four-diamond resort, Tenaya Lodge, which features gorgeous Alpine architecture, sits in a pristine conifer forest surrounded by mountains and sky—and little else. Cel phone reception is iffy out here in the wilderness, Judy and I discovered, but turning off our cel phones felt freeing—as if we were leaving civilization behind and entering into the wild.
The truth is we weren’t exactly roughing it at Tenaya Lodge. From its spacious, comfortable rooms with Native American décor to its long list of amenities—two restaurants, a coffee shop, two pools, children’s activities, a fitness room, special packages, a relaxing spa, shops, and a guest experience center—visitors enjoy big-city services in an unspoiled, natural environment.
That evening, after relaxing by the pool and then enjoying heavenly spa treatments, Judy and I headed to Sierra, the resort’s premier restaurant, for an elegant dining experience. Known for its commitment to fresh organic produce, quality meats, and fresh seafood, Sierra offers an eclectic menu with dishes designed to please the most discriminating palates.
First Judy and I ordered appetizers: lump crab cakes with a delicious jalapeno honey butter and savory lamb chops with organic greens. Next we shared the Tenaya Salad, a flavorful combination of greens, apples, spiced walnuts, and blue cheese. To save room for dessert, we split a garlic-pepper filet mignon for our entrée, which was cooked to perfection, and then shared a decadent chipotle chocolate dessert that made us absolutely swoon. Luckily, Judy and I had plenty of hiking in our future so indulging in this over-the-top meal wouldn’t produce lasting effects—or at least that’s what we hoped!
A TREASURE HUNT
Tenaya offers unique activities for adventurous guests—including mountain biking, fly fishing, horseback riding, and a new sport called geocaching, which involves using a GPS (global positioning system) receiver to search for the location of hidden “treasure.” Geocaching is really taking off across the U.S., and while I’d heard about it, I’d never tried it.
After a good night’s sleep, Judy and I joined Scott King, Tenaya’s guest services manager, who offered to help us since we were neophyte GPS users. It was a sparkling blue-sky morning—perfect for our geocaching adventure. Scott knew exactly where the treasure was hidden but promised he wouldn’t interfere unless we wandered too far afield.
Armed with a GPS, which the resort rents for a nominal fee, Scott, Judy, and I headed off down a dusty trail that led into the forest. Finding the correct direction wasn’t difficult since Tenaya staff have programmed the treasure’s coordinates into the GPS. As we hiked along, we noticed that periodically the satellite signals disappeared, leaving us clueless about where we were going and where we’d been, but that only added to the suspense.
Besides indicating the direction, the GPS also showed us how far we were from the treasure. As we got closer to the cache, Judy and I began to feel a little disoriented. The GPS pointed us toward a meadow, which appeared beyond a stand of trees; however, a steep ravine was in the way. We ended up overshooting a bit, then backtracking through a squishy Alpine meadow—by now Scott was coaching us—and finally we found the treasure under a fallen log. The plastic shoebox contained souvenir trinkets from the resort as well as a logbook, which Judy and I signed and dated. Scott explained that Tenaya was among the first resorts nationwide to offer geocaching, but now other resorts offered it as well. It’s a perfect family activity, I decided, one that would definitely appeal to my active boys.
That afternoon Judy and I got our first glimpse of Yosemite National Park. Just inside the southern entrance is Mariposa Grove, where the largest of three stands of giant sequoias towers over the landscape. We joined an open-air tram ride, which gives commentary on the trees as well as history of the park. Originally inhabited by Native Americans, the region was discovered by European explorers in the mid-1800’s. Word of Yosemite’s beauty spread, and soon the region began attracting tourists. Worried that developers might ruin the pristine beauty of the area, a group of influential Californians persuaded Abraham Lincoln to grant Yosemite Valley and the Mariposa Grove to the state as public land. Eventually this parcel and another 1500 acres would become Yosemite National Park.
The ancient sequoias stand like sentinels in the Mariposa Grove. Many have names and colorful histories to match—the Grizzly Giant, General Sherman, the Fallen Monarch, the Clothespin Tree, Bachelor and the Three Graces, the Telescope Tree, Faithful Couple, and the Wawona Tunnel Tree. Each giant has a story to tell, having watched a lot of tourists traipse by over the years. Some have even suffered in the process. Fortunately forward-thinking individuals—such as Galen Clark, an early park supporter—helped to maintain the integrity of the grove. In fact, a tree named Galen Clark memorializes Galen’s efforts to preserve and protect the giant sequoias.
THE NEEDS OF NATURE
That’s one of the biggest challenges at Yosemite: establishing a balance between the needs of nature and a demanding public. To lessen the effect of humans at Yosemite, the park service recommends visitors park their cars in a day-use lot and take advantage of free shuttles that circle the park. Bike paths criss-cross the valley as well and offer another environmentally friendly option for getting around.
You can also explore Yosemite using four-legged transportation. Judy and I decided to try a trail ride one day. When we arrived at the stable in Yosemite Valley, the guide told us we’d be riding mules, not horses, on the trail. This was a first for me! Mules always seemed to be such homely creatures, lacking the regal bearing of horses. On the other hand, I’d always heard that mules are very sure-footed, and sure enough, once we got started, I saw for myself how carefully they traversed the trails. Not only did we ride up and down steep slopes, the path was frequently covered with loose stones. I was more nervous than the mules and ended up spending more time looking down to see where my mule was going than enjoying the scenery. Next time I think I’ll rent a bike!
Another challenging form of transportation in the park—one that Judy and I decidedly did not try—is rock climbing. Since the temps are milder, September is a favorite month for climbers, and El Capitan, the grandfather of all rock faces, attracts numerous daredevils and adrenaline junkies who prepare for months to scale this sheer wall of granite. It takes a week to climb from bottom to top, and only occasionally are rescue operations required.
The closest Judy and I got to El Capitan was Northside Drive, which runs along the valley floor. We tried to make out the climbers, but they appeared as small as fleas to the naked eye. Binoculars would have helped. All I know is I got dizzy just staring at the rock from a distance and couldn’t imagine what it would be like to dangle from a rope somewhere on that 3000-foot monolith.
No, I preferred to keep my two feet firmly on or near the ground. Hiking opportunities abound in Yosemite. Many say the prettiest hikes are in the northern half of the park around the Tuolumne River and Meadows, an area Judy and I never got around to visiting. We both look forward to returning one day for more hikes in this peaceful paradise.
HOLDING OUR BREATH
Back on the Glacier Point Trail, Judy and I walked along, excited about the possibility of seeing the mama bear and her cubs. Our hiker friends had said they thought the bears were about a half mile ahead, so we fairly skipped hoping they’d still be there. Between looking down at our feet to avoid stumbling and scanning the treetops, we barely had time to enjoy the awesome valley view—so determined were we to see the bears.
Soon we found ourselves in a grove of oak trees and saw acorns scattered along the ground. As we walked, holding our breath, both of us admitted to being afraid and curious at the same time—not sure if the bears would fall from the sky or jump out from behind a rock or—worst of all—scurry off into the forest before we could see them. We listened intently but only heard a few birds twittering. Once we thought we heard some scuffling sounds and peered into the green leafy brush, but saw nothing. The closest we got to bears that day was some bear scat on the trail.
The sounds of traffic grew louder as Judy and I approached the trailhead on the valley floor. While we never had out face-to-face encounter with the bears, Judy and I agreed we weren’t totally disappointed. We took solace in knowing that the mama bear and her cubs are better off with fewer human encounters. Sure, Yosemite is a playground for visitors, like Judy and me, but the mountains are the bears’ home.
It’s enough to know they’re out there.
For more information, visit:
• www.tenayalodge.com
• www.nps.gov/yose
