Mendocino Coast

With the solstice approaching, Raf and I have begun the independent phase of our summer adventures. Last Wednesday, she headed off to Denver, where she is doing staff training for her summer gig and adapting to the abnormally-early Front Range monsoon. This past Saturday, I left San Diego around 3am, hauled our stuff in a U-haul trailer to a storage unit in San Leandro, CA, dropped off the U-haul, and continued north towards Mendocino county. As groceries are expensive in the remote coastal towns near my Airbnb, I stopped at Grocery Outlet in Cloverdale, the last cheap grocery spot, and filled up a cooler with provisions for the next four weeks. 

I'm not one to engage in driving for pleasure, but the road through Anderson Valley is pretty much as good as it gets. I sing along to Simon and Garfunkel's America as I pass cattle farms, vineyards, orchards, and the remote towns of Yorkville and Boonville. Winding northwestward towards the coast, the landscape transitions from brown grassy slopes with sparse oaks to dense redwood forest, extensive networks of roots holding the steep terrain in place. Raf and I had driven through the valley in the other direction from Comptche one time before — Anderson Valley is a very special place, a relic of a forgotten agricultural time. 

"The Dreaming Tower", my home for the next month, comprises the third and fourth stories of a beautiful house built by a back-to-the-lander in the early 80's (the 10 acres cost $10,000). His daughter now rents out the top unit via Airbnb for extended stays. It is surrounded on all sides by fruit trees, redwoods, and views of Anderson Valley and nearby ridges. I am greeted periodically by a friendly little brown dog, a fluffy old gray cat, and a cautious wide-eyed black cat. The silence is energizing — I've already spent hours doing and thinking about absolutely nothing. 

Overall, it's a huge relief to have finally escaped Southern California. While 1932 C Street was a wonderful home for me and Raf, living in the shadow of the 5 freeway was a really challenging experience for someone who values clean air and quiet. I came to love the dry shrub landscapes of San Diego's coastal mountains, but it was frustrating to be so disconnected from natural surroundings. For much of my time in Colorado and Chile (especially, Lefthand Canyon, Nederland, Winter Park, and Lago Atravesado), I enjoyed the heightened quality of life that comes with living among trees, mountains, meadows, and rivers. In contrast to those experiences, the noise and air pollution of urban life steadily eroded my health in a way that I will never subject myself to again. 

For my first full day, I decide to head to the coast and run 8 miles on the Fern Canyon trail in Van Damme state park. When I arrive and find that half of the trail is closed due to this past winter's flooding, I pivot and make my way to the town of Mendocino. Extremely boujee and touristy but also very cool, Mendocino is a preserved historical settlement on a rocky headland. For my first move, I ask a guy in a waitstaff outfit smoking a spliff if he knows where I might find a public restroom. After pointing me to the closest one, he goes on to explain that there is a much cleaner and more pleasant restroom a short walk across town. 

"I'm interested in speed at the moment, but I will check out the luxury option when I have more time." 

"Any port in a storm."

A short distance from the restroom, I find the start of a trail that follows the coast along the perimeter of the headlands, and slowly make my way around. The rugged basalts of the Mendocino coast are striking in comparison to the pale brown sandstones of San Diego. After looping back through quiet streets lined with art galleries, churches, and upscale restaurants, I hop in the truck and head over to Russian Gulch State Park. There, I run six miles through a lush redwood canyon to a waterfall. By this time, I am pretty warm and sweaty, so I strip down to my shorts, weave through selfie-takers, and stand underneath the frigid flow for about ten seconds. 

On the way home, I stop at Navarro Point, amble along the cliffs, sit on a bench among the wildflowers, and enjoy the stiff wind for a while, before heading back up Philo-Greenwood road to the Dreaming Tower. 

Can you find the seals?