Just fifteen miles North of Santa Rosa is the little burg of Healdsburg, which started as a train stop and now stops "wineys" and "dineys" in its cute town square which is bordered with a gaggle of California nifty shops. The local literature claims that the town hasn't yet reached tourist trap status, but my back ached after the first lap around the square. Fortunately, we weren't there to be trapped. We were there to join the rapture of the landscape, and it was heavenly. The terrain surrounding the town is a series of rolling hills, some steep, but all short. The flora is mostly grape vines, but there are also patches of pine and oak forest. The grape vines were so close to the road, they nearly twirled themselves around our legs. I guess if we had availed ourselves of the opportunity to taste wine, we would have stayed in one place long enough for them to think we were growing posts. A person could taste wine every couple of miles or so since small family wineries dot the valley. We rode a thirty mile loop that meandered from one side of to the other. The west side is the Dry Creek Valley, the middle is the Russian River Valley, and the east side is the Alexander Valley. In between we passed near another small burg called Geyserville and a wonderful little lunch stop at Jimtown, which is mostly just a revitalized country store that reminded me of something I'd see in Vermont. Our lunch, a delicately prepared pork sandwich matched with caramelized onions and topped with provolone was delightful. We also experimented with some 'Mama Zuma's Revenge' potato chips that claim to be made from the hottest peppers on the planet. I can't argue, but the heat was a nice compliment to the savory pork. After lunch at Jimtown, we did taste four sips of specialty wine at the Ridge Winery. The wine we tasted can't be purchased in stores; it's available only at tastings and through wine clubs. All four samples we tasted were rich, full bodied, fruity, and pleasant. It was "Hizuu" as my son, Steve, would say. He means high class, and we certainly qualified, standing proudly at the bar dressed in tight spandex. This ride, number one of the top ten, is very popular for the wine, the scenery, and the riding. In high season, it must enjoy a steady stream of cyclists and automobile tourists. Today, however, even though the weather was beautiful, warm, and windless, we were nearly the only riders on the road. In the whole of thirty miles we saw just ten other cyclists and just as few cars. In all, it validated our decision to leave the soggy confines of the redwoods for this 'other' world of California dreamin'. Tomorrow, we are going to ride through downtown Santa Rosa on its bike trail out into the wine country again toward a little burg called Windsor. The riding guide calls this ride "entry level". No matter. All cyclists know that twenty-five miles is twenty-five miles. For now, all I can say is that life is good, especially today.
All sorts of flowers accompany the vines along the road, including a few olive trees.
A row of neatly cared for migrant homes.
The vines, the pines, and whatever else in on your mind.
They told us the old vines produce less but better fruit. Good news: Old is good.
My best gal checking coordinates.
The view across Alexander Valley.
Cutsey and artsey, but most of all excellent. Go here if you can.
The cutsey part.
Some of the artsey part: a miniature kitchen toy made of tin.
The drop dead gorgeous view from the porch.
The patio, covered in grape vines of course.
Pork sandwich with caramelized onions on a ciabatta roll, garnished with home made sweet pickles.
Tandem heaven. Just a little taste stop at the Ridge Winery. Like Albert Collins says, "I ain't drunk, I'm just drinkin'.
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