Adventure 162: Groveland, California/Yosemite Pines RV Resort/Post A

Clam Chowder, anyone?

Packed up and loaded just before a dark, drizzly rain descended on Santa Rosa, we eased ourselves southeast through the back road farms of sugar beets, the exquisite hillsides of Napa Valley, along a five wide freeway north of Vallejo, winding through the industrial section of Stockton, ignoring the squawking of Ginny the GPS and hoping the orange detour signs were correct. They were. Ginny recalculated and led us out into the arid plains near Lake Tulloch to finally climb an insanely steep grade (Old Priest Road-Named, I assume, because the old priest became old climbing the grade) to settle into the very funky mountain town of Groveland, California-gateway to Yosemite. Thanks again, Lord, for traveling mercies, and thanks again cribbage gods for seeing it my way. The Wily Cager had whittled my lead to $78 dollars with some "Was she really a math teacher arithmetic?" and had me on the ropes like Mohammed Ali suckering George Foreman when suddenly the fates unleashed a dash of unprecedented fortune my way. First, all four fours came out during play: four-she played, eight for two-I said, twelve for six-she grinned, sixteen for twelve-I chortled. To quote my buddy, Ed, "It was great!" But then she came up with a hand plus a crib of thirty-two points, and I was about to call for a respirator. I was eight pegs shy of the skunk l line. The Cager was eleven pegs from winning. It was my deal. She could have skunked me, but she out thought herself and instead of keeping two pair of face cards, she kept one pair and a deuce. I was dealt the 4456 dozilito and a five turned up making my hand worth the venerable Viente-Cuatro. During play I pegged enough to cross the skunk line. She counted but fell short three pegs like Eveil Knieval aborting his rocket launch across the Snake River. Miraculously, I danced in on the power of twenty-four plus eight. Never was a win of eight dollars so satisfying. Better yet, after a rain storm tonight, we're supposed to enjoy warm weather all next week as we explore Yosemite National Park. Groveland is about twenty miles from the entrance, and this RV resort has water, power, hot showers, cable TV, and WiFi. One thing we've decided in our travels so far: We like power. Everything else is a bonus. Tonight, as a homage to the soggy skies, we're going to enjoy Judy's superb homemade clam chowder along with some fresh baked corn muffins. I'mpretty sure life is good, especially today.




 So long central coastline, hello Sierra high line.

 We bought some candy from these two not so scary witches who were raising money for the Groveland pre-school.

 Photo of the photo.

 Like us, these Coreoposis still believe in summer. 

 Zimmers? Google says it's like a room upgrade, sort of like a B&B.

 If my blood sugar was lower, I'd have swilled a few with the stuffed animal heads and the local heads, but again there is that slippery slope thing.

 I'm sure the owner of this peace bug was swilling at least one PBR in the Iron Door Saloon.

 Downtown Groveland, California

Hey honey, do you think that guy is wearing a hunter costume?

All hail to the Red, White, and Blue.

Fric and Frac snuggled in to site #19. (Just us and the owner's cats so far.)

Adventure 161: Santa Rosa, California/Post E

The Cager's win streak continues: -$87

Not all days on the road are fun and games. On a regular basis, some housekeeping is required. Today, we took Fric to the car dealer for an oil change, took ourselves to the beauty shop for a pedi for Judy and a pedi/mani for me. After our makeovers, we needed something more than just Semel and coffee, so we chose a pig and a poke for breakfast. We got poked. Hank's Creekside Restaurant was a greasy spoon, which would have been fine if it hadn't charged like it was something better. No matter, the diner food readied us for a day of cleaning. Judy did the wash. I cleaned the bike and the truck. I put the table and chairs away, folded the awning, and basically readied Frac for our next stop: Yosemite National Park. We'll leave in the morning after the morning rush hour has passed, and venture south just to the northern edge of San Francisco and then east to a small town called Groveland, which borders the western entrance to Yosemite. The highway map shows major highways. Hopefully, we'll enjoy traveling mercies. After the trailer was spruced, the truck shined, and the bike preened, we decided to go for a classic California burger at SuperBurger of Santa Rosa. What a treat! My faith in mankind, womankind, youth kind and the spirit of joyful work was affirmed by our teen girl waitress, Shelby. She was bright, competent, cheerful, and she inspired me so much, I tipped her twenty bucks. When we got there, she was the only one working, and boy, was she! She was bustling about smoothly and efficiently, handling at least ten customer groups by herself. She quipped, "Another girl will be here in ten minutes." By the time we finished our burgers, onion rings, and shake, her co-worker had arrived, but she spent the first ten minutes of her shift complaining to Shelby about things the day shift had left undone. I spent much of my life working in the service industry; I appreciate a good worker when I see one. What appealed to me most about Shelby was how she approached her job. Work was not a chore; the job was not a burden. I have the feeling that is just how she is. My guess is that she brings sunlight wherever she goes. She made my day. This young girl validated my faith in possibility. She presented herself in the same way that the Alexander Valley presents itself as the jewel of the Sonoma County. She proved (Again) that life is good, especially today.

 Yelp recommended this place highly, but it fell a bit short of my breakfast standards.

 The fare (Only medium). Notice the Cager's pegs squarely in the lead at the finish.

 Clean sheets, fluffed bed spread.

 Clean water closet.

 Freshly laundered bath towels and a serviced commode.

 Freshly laundered kitchen towels, shiny range.

 Shiny spice rack.

 Gleaming fridge, freezer, and microwave.

 A view to the back room.

The galley all tidied up.

 The best part of the day.

 Surf's up. What more could you ask of a California burger joint.

 Shelby snapped this photo. Oh well, this is how we look after a few miles of walking.

 Onion rings: Hot, crisp, tasty.

 Cheeseburger, hand molded from bulk ground beef.

Judy skipped the cheese. We both slurped the strawberry shake.

Adventure 160: Santa Rosa, California/Post D

If there is still time, marry a Mennonite girl who can bake Semel.

The only thing Dame Fate despises more than a complainer is a presumer. My punishment was swift. In a fifth straight win, the Wily Cager skunked me, soundly sending my foul stench down a sorry path. She now owes me a mere $102. Maybe the Cager was inspired by her successful baking of Semel in Frac's oven. We enjoyed the traditional strawberry jam/ cheddar cheese accompaniments along with our usual oatmeal. My defeat was no less palatable with the Cager spitting poppy seeds to my side of the table as she cackled with delight. Misery is as misery does, I suppose. After breakfast, we drove to Bodega Bay, which is less than twenty-five miles from here west on Hwy 12. Bodega Bay is famous for the filming of Alfred Hitchcock's-'The Birds', but you'd have to be of a certain age to remember the movie. The place is literally for the birds. Greg Friesen would be in heaven as flying life forms of all kinds filled the air and bobbed on the water. We rode a total of fifteen miles around the edge of the bay. It was awesome, though Judy's knee hurt a little after three straight days of riding. She declined attempting any sort of incline, although we were forced by traffic to ascend one steep slope. After our ride, we sat in Fric by the bay, ate the picnic lunch she had prepared, and enjoyed watching the pelicans skim the surface of the water. But the best part of the bird watching was a flock of tiny silver white birds that flew in a racing, tumbling flowing flock just over the surface. As they sped, they changed color and formed a moving sculpture of shape made all the more impressive by their reflections on the water. Greg most likely could have enlightened us as to what type of birds they were, but we enjoyed them despite our complete ignorance. On the way back to the trailer, we stopped at the Hopmonk Tavern in Sebastopol, which is located in a historically registered railroad station built in 1903. They have over a hundred bottled beers in stock and brew some excellent concoctions of their own, but the ambience alone is worth a view. We had to enjoy a small taste along with a snack of Korean Tacos (It was HAPPY hour after all). I begged Judy to sell the trailer so we could camp out at the place, but she reminded me that slippery slopes are not merely cliches. Even better, we were able to do our dinner shopping at a Whole Foods store just a few blocks away. We'll listen to game seven and enjoy a feast of BBQ chicken marinated in lemon, rosemary, and olive oil. We'll prepare garlic mashed potatoes and steam some green beans from our garden. Happily, the thin gruel continues, and who doesn't deserve a caloric feast after burning fifteen miles worth of flat riding (Beer calories don't count). I forgot to mention that the truck thermometer read 82 degrees on the way back to the trailer. Welcome to California. Ever thankful, we're glad that life is good, especially today.


 Judy showing off the first batch of Semel ever baked in the new trailer.

 Just to the right of this magnificent coastline is the protected waters of Bodega Bay.

 Judy, auditioning for a spot in the Audubon Society.

 This place is for the birds, or at least the Society members think so.

 The view South.

 Bodega Bay.

 This place had at least thirty portraits of Alfred Hitchcock, and the baked goods looked so good we were sorry we had packed a picnic lunch.

 We did share a devilishly rich gluten free brownie.

 Judy tried to encourage Alfred to cast her in his new movie.

 Saint Teresa of Avila Catholic Church. Ansel Adams photographed this building in 1953. 

 Judy, my official taster, had to try one dark and one light.

 I could only DREAM of a lower blood sugar level.

 Korean Tacos: quite delicious.

Home of the Hopmunk Tavern. Go here if you even think beer is a good idea.

Adventure 159: Santa Rosa,California/Post C

Cars speeding and chicks chirping.

One of the mildly unpleasant realities of the urban ramble must include enduring those unwashed, those unwanted, and those undeterred by propriety. We endured it all last night close to 2 A.M. when a pack of young ruffians hopped up by youthful enthusiasm (and whatever else) came rapping on our next door neighbor's trailer. Awakened, I peered out our window to see a half dozen youths (some girls, too) in a small circle talking too loudly about whatever and one of their member crawling atop the propane tanks of the trailer and quite firmly slapping its side. I suppose that's where the bed in the neighboring trailer is, but whatever, the person in the trailer didn't respond. After about ten minutes, the lawless tribe moved on. I managed to return to sleep, but the Bunny was sure Freddy Krueger had manifested himself in the form of a group of hooligans who were stoned or drunk or both. I couldn't quite tell their age, but the person in the trailer, who I greeted warmly in the morning, appeared to be in his early twenties. He has no car, and we've seen no other activity in the trailer. In fact, because there is no car, we thought the trailer was vacant. Undamaged by the event, we enjoyed a feast for breakfast of  french bread smothered in an egg poached in home made tomato sauce. It's a Mario Batali recipe we've enjoyed many times before. We're in the process of emptying the freezer and fresh stuff because we plan to leave the refrigerator empty in San Jose next week. Judy trimmed my lead to $226 down from a high of $346. She's been lucky of late, but I know why the cribbage gods are displeased. It's her constant ingratitude with a win. Instead of being happy with a few wins, she laments much like a petulant princess, "Why can't I skunk you! I keep getting these peasely wins!" I can assure you that in my experience, Dame Fate takes a dim view of the ungrateful. Oh, well, it's her funeral. Mid-morning, we took off on the tandem right from the RV park for a thirty mile ride out to Sebastopol and back, first along the Santa Rosa Greenway, which is not so scenic (The river is down and dirty), but just outside of Santa Rosa it turned again into pleasant agricultural and ranch land with a few vineyards sprinkled in. We had planned on riding out to Windsor, but at the end of the parkway, we talked with a local who pointed us toward Sebastopol. His advice was as excellent as his directions. Leaving Sebastopol, we rode the Joe Rodota bike path back to Santa Rosa, which was very pleasant until about a mile outside of town. Santa Rosa's homeless population camps there out of sight and out of mind. There are tents, stained mattresses, heaps of trash, shopping carts, and weathered, beaten people. They greeted us pleasantly, but I'm always saddened and conflicted by the disenfranchised. We then decided to explore the city a little bit by turning here and there, riding through neighborhoods. We found the historic district, which is dominated by neatly kept craftsman homes. We passed a few schools, including the Santa Rosa Middle School. I found myself wondering what the culture was like, but I didn't stop to pick up an application. I then amazed Judy by turning right on the street that led back to the RV park. I yelled back, "Prepare to be amazed!" She was (Or she pretended to be). At any rate, even after several twists and turns, we made it back without the use of electronic guidance. For dinner, we walked over to the Salvadoran Pupusa restaurant. We enjoyed two excellent pupusas and a dish of shredded beef sautéed with eggs, peppers, and onions. The rice and beans were mixed, and they were also excellent. The condiment was a dish of shredded cabbage and carrots swimming in a very hot vinegar solution. If you put a little dab of cabbage on a little bite of pupusa, the combination stimulated every good feeling you can imagine. Dinner cost $16. Right now, we're listening to the series, hoping the Royals can stretch things to a seventh game. We have to hide out in the trailer to root for the Royals, but that's OK because life here is good, especially today.

 The Santa Rosa Greenway. Not too scenic, but warm, flat, and carless.

 The trail dips under every busy road.

 Map girl getting her bearings.

 Street art in Sebastopol.

 Very cool watering hole. Maybe a lunch stop for us tomorrow.

 The Joe Rodota trail is an old rail easement that parallels Hwy 12.

 Though close, the highway isn't noticeable.

 One of the city streets we wandered on. 

 The cupola on top of the Catholic School in the Cherry Street historic district. The school was built in 1931.

 Sculptures outside the Sonoma Museum.

 Art shot of my own.

 The Bunny.

 More art.

 Stop here on your way through town. It's right at the junction of Hwy 12 and Hwy 101.

 Hot cabbage, beans, shredded beef in huevos.

 Puposas: frijoles and queso with spinach and squash.

 Soft warm light on the hills greeted us as we walked back to Frac after dinner.