Friday, July 13, 2007:

As I said, we really hated the Petaluma KOA. When we woke up there Friday (July 13) morning, we realized our site was wet because KOA waters them with sprinklers. Who in the hell waters their campsites, especially the tent ones? So even though we had reservations to stay there Friday night also, we packed up with the intention of only going back there as a last resort.

So we left there and headed toward Napa and Sonoma valleys — wine country. This was also a defining moment because we went on Route 166 East. It was the first time since leaving Massachusetts that we had actually gone on a road going east.

As we were driving, we both decided that there was no way we were going back to that Petaluma KOA. So Bea called the place and told them our thoughts about their miserable campground, and we got a refund for that night so we could go elsewhere.

The original Taylor’s

To make things a little lighter, I told Bea that I had a surprise for her as we were traveling toward wine country. We had gotten a bit of a late start and it was nearing lunchtime. I was traveling up Route 29 in Napa Valley toward Calistoga and then we came upon it — the original Taylor’s Refresher in St. Helena. I wasn’t sure Bea would like the surprise because after all, we were inNapa. But she loved it, and we ordered lunch and, of course, milkshakes, and then started our wine country tour.


Sterling Vineyards

Our first stop was at Sterling Vineyards, which was nothing special except it had an aerial tram that took us up to a separate area where there was a self-guided tour and tastings. We tried about five different wines and enjoyed a lot of great views. The self-guided tour was also pretty cool, and took us by areas where they were making and barreling wine.

There was also a DVD that showed how the oak barrels are made, with the wood from French forests and how they heat the wood to bend it and then lock it in shape with the iron rings.

We bought a Pinot Gris there and Bea got a cute kitchen towel with pictures of chickens on it. Bea is really into cute kitchen towels.

Robert Mondavi

We headed back south down Route 29 and stopped at the Robert Mondavi Winery. They had a pretty property with gift shops and tasting areas surrounding a small grass field where they have jazz concerts every Saturday night. We toyed with the idea of staying another day so we could see Herbie Hancock (that’s Herbie Hancock), but decided it probably wasn’t wise. The Napa and Sonoma region was another place we could have stayed a week and still not seen everything we wanted to.

As we were driving in wine country, we saw a different winery with Peter Mondavi’s name on it. Bea postured that Robert and Peter were probably relatives who got into some sort of wine feud. Sure enough, she was right. Apparently Robert once worked with his brother Peter, but eventually started his own business when the two bickered some.

The wines we tasted at the Robert Mondavi Vineyards were probably our second favorite, ahead of Sterling and behind the Buena Vista. We liked their Boomerang wine a lot.

Buena Vista Winery

We didn’t get a chance to visit too many wineries, which was fine by us. Three was good. Neither of us are wine connoisseurs and tasting wine at three different places is plenty. More than that and driving would be questionable, I think.

So we headed to the Buena Vista Winery, the oldest continuously operating winery in the United States, or so they said. It doesn’t matter. It was both our favorites by far.

First off, Buena Vista is in Sonoma, which is the original wine country. Napa came later. As a result, Sonoma has an older, more authentic, less commercialized feel to it. The Buena Vista Winery is down a small side road tucked into the end of a residential neighborhood. It was started by Agoston Haraszthy, who is considered one of the founders of modern viticulture in the United States.

There was just a lot of character here, from the old stone walls in the tasting room to the furniture on the second floor where they had signs describing the history of American viticulture. It also helped that the woman giving us our tastings of wine was really friendly. And we gotbreadsticks in between each tasting.

The wine there was also our favorite. Maybe it had something to do with the place itself, maybe it had something to do with the fact that this was our third visit and our taste buds were possibly numbing up, but I don’t think so. I think it was just good.

As we were leaving there, Bea saw a sign outside advertising a free performance of Shakespeare’s “As You Like It” by the Napa Valley College. It was about 5 p.m. at the time and the show was starting at 6 p.m. Not a lot of the wineries are open past 5 p.m., so we decided to be done with wine and move on to…theatre! (When you read this, imagine a British accent when reading “theatre.” It makes you feel more cultured.)

Okay, enough culture, because listen to this. Instead of grabbing something quick at a nearby deli, we decided we would try to drive to the Taylor’s in St. Helena and back — all in less than an hour with rush-hour traffic. Our love of Taylor’s had obviously transitioned to an obsession. We got about halfway there, saw traffic going the other way (it was bad), and went back with puppy-dog sad faces.

But that’s okay. On our way back, we stopped at The Fig Pantry and picked up some food to eat while watching the play. That place was good; I’m glad we ended up there.

As You Like It

So the cast set up minimal props on the land of Buena Vista Winery and began their performance. I was expecting something like Waiting for Guffman, but the acting was actually decent. The audience was sitting at picnic tables and lawn chairs in front of the play, and I’m pretty sure that Bea and I were the only non-family or non-friends of someone acting in the play. There were probably about 30 audience members there total. It was too bad there wasn’t a better turnout.

At one point the flies were really getting bothersome, so we put bug spray on and adorned sheepish faces while everyone else looked accusingly at us because of the loud spray nozzle and offensive bug-spray odor. Hey, don’t be jealous (DBJ).

Unfortunately, we couldn’t stay for the whole thing. It didn’t get started until 6:30 p.m., and with the prospect of having to drive down the coast to find a new campsite looming over us, we busted out at 7 p.m. It was a very strategic maneuver. We packed up our food as quietly as possible, straddled one leg over the picnic bench, and bolted during a scene change. This is the correct protocol for leaving events like this early: be quiet, but when you have to be disruptive, be quick about it. And never look back. Oh, never look back. The faces of disgust you’ll see will haunt you the whole ride home.

The fog

As we drove back through San Francisco, we saw the fog coming off the mountains and into the city. It crept like a stalker, and reminded me of “The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock,” when T.S. Eliot compares the fog to an animal:

…The yellow fog that rubs its back upon the window-panes…

It was the first time Bea and I had seen the famous San Francisco fog roll in. The temperature dropped about 10 degrees in 10 minutes and we drove in and out of the fog as we drove up and down mountains.

Last word on Taylor’s

See, we’ve got a problem. An addiction, really. Even though we had yet to find a campsite, we decided to drive into the city and get one last milkshake each. Oh Taylor’s, how we’ll miss you.

Down the coast to Half Moon Bay

So it was about 8 p.m. by now and we still had no place to stay and were worried that all the campsites would be booked.

We cut through the mountains and ended up at the Half Moon Bay State Beach. After some initial confusion, we found the campground host and discovered that there were two sites left, so we grabbed one of them. The campground hosts were super nice — an elderly couple in their RV that travel around the country when they feel like it and park their vehicle at various campgrounds to be hosts and make a little money. Sweet deal.

By this time it was 9 p.m. and spitting rain, so we set up our tent in a jiffy (we were getting really good at this by now) and jumped into bed. This was one of my favorite places to stay, mainly because we were on a grassy campsite right next to the beach, and so you could hear the ocean waves coming in all night long.