Pt. Reyes Station Part One

Black Mountain. 1998. C. MacDonald.
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I did not have a happy childhood, though not nearly as bad as most. But one thing I remember was my parents taking me out to Drakes Bay near Pt. Reyes Station in Marin. I was probably 10. It was a cold dark beach with only a dark plexiglas enclosure to keep the harsh winds off.

Still I loved it immediately. I do not why.

We went into town and ate at Vladimir's. This must have been 1967 or 68. Vladimir, an old crusty Czech was a lot of fun. I had my first oyster there and I hated it. But I loved the country. Loved Inverness. Everything about it, even as a boy.

Years later I would return, but did not connect as deeply until 1991 and 92.

It was during the Gulf War and I was very upset by it. I got up one morning and said to my wife, "We need to go on a retreat and get out of here for a day or so."

Strangely (grin) she agreed.

"Where are we going?"

"There is some place on the coast. I can almost see it, but I really have no idea."

"Are you crazy?" she laughed.

"Yes, you know that. Let's go. It'll be an adventure. I am probably being silly and stupid, I know."

It was a Saturday and we did not have kids, so we went. Just drove West.

From the Napa turn-off to Pt. Reyes Station is beautiful country. It moves from touches of France to a rugged Scottish landscape around Nicasio. The area is dominated by Black Mountain, which looks like a large hand patiently knuckled down.

We swept around Nicasio, went round back of Black Mountain, climbed the crest and spilled into Pt. Reyes Station.

The town has a simple magic and openness that is immediately apparent. We stopped in at the local restaurant for a drink and walked into Toby's feed barn, which, to this day, is a favorite haunt of mine.

"Where do we go next?" she asked.

One of the things I always appreciated about my wife (now Ex-wife) is that on the road we would transform. She would admit the same. I'm not sure we ever really had a bad road trip (okay, maybe the one to San Diego, but that was my fault entirely).

We would get in long discussions and laugh and explore and it was really very good. We'd still be married today if we just lived on the road in a motor home. (I'm kidding).

Good woman. Good trip.