Road Trip Day Five: U-Turn

Michael had told me he had a surprise planned for the last night of our trip. Was that why we had to leave quickly? He seemed rushed as he gathered up his things in the room. I asked again. He sat on the edge of the fussy lace bedspread and told me that we were going to go to Ashland, Oregon, to spend our last day touring Rogue River Valley wineries, and our last night seeing a play at the fabled Oregon Shakespeare Festival, but that’s all off now because he found out he had to get back today to catch a flight tomorrow to Charlotte, N.C. Why? FOR A JOB INTERVIEW! I was floored, and suddenly enraged. I wanted to grab something and throw it across the room. There was a china tea set handy but Michael gave me his “think first” look, as I was about to pitch the sugar bowl. What followed was an outburst - me raising my voice and giving the other guests (who were still down at breakfast at least, and not right next door) their own reason to dislike Bed & Breakfasts. Michael suggested I take my rants to an even smaller space – our car. And so I did. For 100’s of miles south it was mainly me talking, well, arguing, about whatever he said. I don’t remember any of the scenery going back, and then we were finally on a particularly bleak stretch of interstate anyway. I had a lot of questions and even more complaints.

Michael said he wasn’t looking for a job, but was approached by someone he knew from his business school network. The opportunity was awesome, and yes, it was in Charlotte, which he said had changed from a backwater to a banking hub. He admitted that with Red House poised to grow it would be difficult to turn the financial aspects of the company over to someone else, but he said he had thought it through and it was do-able. More so now than it would be later.

He had planned to tell me about the interview when we got back home, and that he was sorry that instead he had to cut short (and mess up) our trip, but all the people who wanted to interview him were all going to be in Charlotte at the same time so he had to fly out tomorrow. I ran the gamut of emotion – why did he even need a career outside of Red House? And what about US?! Delia and Andrew?! Life in Napa?! I knew the south could not come close in terms of appeal.

After what felt like forever on the road we were back in Napa. Near perfect Napa. It was late; I’d get the kids tomorrow after taking Michael to the airport. I sat on the deck for a while, just thinking – where would all of this lead…?

Road Trip Day Four, Continued: Eureka!

Eureka means, “We found it!” and we did – before lunch. A quaint city of Victorian homes, it has seen better, noisier days as a shipping port for the many logs felled in Humboldt.

Though Michael knows I dislike Bed & Breakfasts and Victoriana, it was his idea to stay at an authentic Victorian B&B. He thought that the style elements might be a source of inspiration for my work at Red House. He also thought the experience of sharing a bathroom and breakfast with perfect strangers would help me in my quest to acquire patience. Well, it didn’t help that I started out tired, and that I had to stake out some space in the parlor to get some work done while Michael explored Old Town. I’m not used to dealing with distractions such as the public coming in off the street and inquiring about vacancies. And it was nearly impossible to get a wireless signal with all the heavy tapestries and stuffed animals clogging the air space. Being seated at the Victorian séance table was sort of unnerving too. Plus, the velvet chair I had to sit in was precisely a right angle. Better to conjure the undead from a position of excellent posture, I guess. And there was so much clutter in the room that I had trouble concentrating. Stuffed peacock! Antlers! Dolls with tiny teeth that looked like they were taken from real children! And the effect of fringed red silk lampshades is to draw all of the light from the room and reflect back onto me a devilish red pallor. I decided to have a glass of whatever was in the room’s decanter. Wow - one ghastly sip told me it was just for show. Eventually, I settled into a working mode, though when all was said and done Michael accomplished more than I – he found a real gem of a restaurant, Avalon. It’s got to be the only local recipient of the Wine Spectator Award of Excellence. (See it at avaloneureka.com) If you find yourself here you have to go for the pear, bacon and gorgonzola salad - and the smoked quail. Of course, the substantial wine list was a delight after my day in the parlor.

Back at the inn: The bathroom was down the hall and some dark and creaky stairs, but no one was in it when I got there – a plus. We tucked in to what was for us a tiny bed, but it was the rock-hard pillows that made it difficult to sleep. I must have managed though as I was awakened by the sound of talking in the hallway and doors opening and closing. It was 3:14! And again - more of the same at 4:30! Who stays out that late? See what I mean about B&Bs?! Naturally, Michael slept through the noise. I didn’t get back to sleep until it was about time to get up anyway. And I had spent hours thinking about whether to go find the parlor and drain the moonshine from the decanter, but figured I’d crash into one of the priceless antique gramophones en route.

Six normal looking people were seated in the dining room with fruit cups in front of them when Michael and I came down for breakfast. I expected at least two of them to be hung-over 20-somethings, but no. The innkeeper offered us coffee, which we enthusiastically accepted, and then Michael and I exchanged a wide-eyed glance – the coffee was barely tea colored and was flavored with vanilla – GAG! But we learned the story of the nocturnal noise – the poor couple! They came all the way from Alabama for a wedding in the redwoods and their rental car broke down as they were driving back to Eureka. They were by the side of the road for hours waiting for a tow truck. Dazed and confused, they left their cell phone in the truck when it dropped them at the B&B. They fell asleep only to be awakened an hour later by the innkeeper, who had to roust them to the phone in the parlor to take a call from their rental car company. Whoa.

The innkeeper seemed distressed that I hardly ate any of my breakfast, a huge platter of French toast encircled by a string of sausages. There was a good half-pound of powdered sugar there, plus islands of butter adrift on a sea of syrup! I was somewhat ashamed of myself and tried to divert the innkeeper’s attention to a portrait on the wall, which I commented on, saying it looked just like Joseph Stalin. The innkeeper looked as if she’d been kicked in the head, “That’s my great-great Grandfather.” (Ouch!) I wasn’t making any friends here. Michael saved the day by announcing that we had to go. (We did?!)

Road Trip Day Four: Checking Out!

When we got back to the room I started throwing things into my bag. I wanted to leave that instant! Michael suggested I take a deep breath, gather my brain cells and reconsider. Where would we go this late? He had a point. My client was right (at least about one thing!) - it is secluded here. We agreed to stay, and be out before dawn so as not to risk her seeing us. She’s a good client and I plan to just pretend forever that I didn’t see her in a plum silk jacquard dress with a vine pattern lace overlay. (Lace is a major trend this year.) I’ll always remember the details: she had a small, beaded evening bag, and her “date” appeared to be wearing a Red House Textured Silk Polo (RH-10) in Steel Gray. They were laughing and sharing a bottle of Perrier Jouet champagne like they were the only people there. How really shocking! Michael suggested I spend some quality time with the laptop. Guess he wanted to get some rest for our early checkout, and he was probably exhausted listening to me speculate on why, who, blah, blah, blah. I couldn’t sleep of course, and so I typed for hours.

I was up first as it takes me longer to get ready. Michael will take 15 minutes top from leaving the bed to starting the car. And he’ll look great. How does he do it?! I gathered up everything I’d need in the bathroom so as not to wake Michael after my shower. I quietly closed the door, turned on the light, pulled back the shower curtain and after a half second of cognitive dissonance/predawn brain fog I screamed – “BAT!” I dropped my robe and about 30 different hair and makeup items onto the tile floor, ran out and slammed the door. Michael sat up in bed with a look of horror, and I don’t think it was because of the bat. He told me to calm down (grrr!) and walked into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. I heard quiet. Then… tooth brushing! I slowly opened the door and he gestured to the empty shower with its little window open, just like I left it last night before I knew about the bats. Mumbling, with toothpaste running down his chin, he said I had scared it good. I know, harmless. (But Michael never watched horror movies like I did…)

We checked out without incident. No client sightings and no citation for my disturbing the peace. There was even coffee in the lobby, for which I was extremely grateful.

It’s beautiful on the coast this early in the morning with dappled, though cool sunlight streaming through the clouds. We don’t have a long drive and will be spending the night in the Victorian Seaport town of Eureka. The coffee is wearing off though so I think I’ll sleep until it’s my turn to drive.

Road Trip Day Three, Continued: Checking In

The desk clerk told me that Reggae on the River was held at Benbow Lake this year – a little too close to the Inn, she said, as they had to chase more than the usual number of squatters off their lawn, and in one case out of an attic. The people we had
seen were real hangers-on, as
the festival happened months ago.

The Benbow Inn was dreadlock-free when we checked in, and my only concern was the giant stuffed teddy bear “having tea” in the lobby, which reminded me of all the cluttered bed-and-breakfasts we’ve stayed in. I need not have worried - our room is tastefully furnished with antiques - no feared Victorian bric-a-brac. There’s even a small window in the shower – cute!

Almost time for dinner, but here’s what I’ve learned: the hotel is on the Register of National Historic Places, built in 1926 to provide distinctive lodging and recreational opportunities for travelers on the just-completed Redwood Highway. (Check it out: www.benbowinn.com.) Its architect was Albert Farr, known in my neck of the woods for The Wolf House, Jack London’s Glen Ellen home. Situated to enjoy views of the Eel River, the hotel was created in the English Tudor style with intricate wood and stonework. Several presidents have stayed here, though probably not Reagan or he’d have come to know some redwoods. Two of the on-holiday-from-Hollywood guests included Clark Gable and Spencer Tracy. Most notably, the restaurant is superb, the recipient of the Wine Spectator’s Award of Excellence for ten straight years. And if it wasn’t awesome there would be a problem as there doesn’t appear to be another place nearby for dinner. My client was right - this place is secluded!

We dined on the terrace with view of the romantic gardens. Though it was chilly, I was comfortable wrapped in my ever-present pashmina. We lingered over a molten chocolate cake baked just for us – heavenly indulgence! I heard a “swoosh” sound nearby and saw a shadow flitting by in the moonlight. Huh. And again. I looked over at a nearby table and asked the equally puzzled-looking woman seated there, “Was that a...bat?!” Sure enough, illuminated by the moonlight in a perfect Hitchcock-ian Halloween tableau, BATS!! Lots and lots of them streaming from the eaves and even some of the attic windows! Were they seeking insects? Chocolate cake? Or had they developed a taste for tourist blood?! Michael was nonchalant about the whole thing but not I; it was time to get indoors. I fled with the cake and stopped at the front desk to share my possible-near-death-by-exsanguination experience, but the night manager was not buying it. She said the bats were harmless and had been in residence for decades. In the 1960’s, sensing the discomfort of “certain guests” (she didn’t have to say it: the namby-pamby Maddies) the hotel owners paid some teenagers 5¢ per captured bat and they nearly went broke. (Eeeew - and what might they have done with all the bat bodies?!) She did offer us a complimentary sherry in the bar, you know, to steady our nerves. We liked that – and the polished wood was lovely, like an English gentlemen’s’ club. I could picture Ralph Lauren kicking back in his own cozy lair. We were trying to picture him swatting at bats with a vintage tennis racket in his signature classic whites when my eye caught something else that made me shiver. This time it was not a bat, but my client, the one who recommended this place to me. She was ensconced in a dark corner canoodling with a man I knew was NOT HER HUSBAND! Unbelievable! We had to get out of the bar – and the hotel – without her seeing us!

Road Trip Day Three, Continued: Naked up North

The redwoods, wow! This is a whole new part of California for us. Does any other state have this much natural variety? I don’t think so. And I’m not sure if I believe President Reagan really said, “If you’ve seen one redwood you’ve seen them all.” At least when seen looking up from a hike they are quite varied in age and appearance. Driving along the “Avenue of Giants”, Michael and I were just in awe of these spectacular trees. There’s something so majestic about anything that can survive hundreds of years of earthquakes, fires, stormy winters, treehouse-building and SHARP AXES to grow to such towering heights – some are 360’! The younger ones really have it easy (like today’s kids!) as there are protections in place to ensure their future. I took a lot of pictures, again finding inspiration that I can draw on for Red House in the forest’s many shades of brown and the greens of the ferns, mosses and rolling farmlands. Grays too - the sky is different here. We are in Humboldt County, which, like Mendocino, is quiet enough to encourage agriculturally-minded counterculturalists to make this their dope growing destination. We didn’t see it but we did see some of them – naked!

Hiking led to hunger and we packed a picnic lunch to enjoy on the banks of the Humboldt River. Drifting down the river was a truck-size inner tube containing four young revelers who were enjoying golden-hued beverages from what appeared to be Mason jars. (Probably not vintage chardonnay.) They waved, and we could see clearly that they were naked! It wasn’t even warm out - at all! Astonishing! We waved back and shook our heads, feeling the fall chill and grateful for Gortex hiking gear and good wine.

Back on the road, and not too far up the highway, we saw what appeared to be some sort of a camp. And a colorful sign, “Reggae on The River”. Tents too, festooned with flags in the Rastafarian green, red and gold. And several more naked people dancing near a campfire! Unlike the inner-tubers, these folks could not be considered young by any stretch mark of the imagination. (So you know - that was Michael’s comment, not mine!) I was reminded of the guy whose robe fell open at the Sonoma spa last summer. Another image forever etched into my brain. Yuck. At least Michael saw this one, albeit from a distance that made the “details” fuzzy.

And sorry to disappoint you but no, Michael and I did not join the party and shed our inhibitions. We are staying, clothed, at The Benbow Inn in Garberville. This is another place you just can’t miss on your California adventuring. It was recommended by a client who said she comes up here all the time. She raved about the secluded setting.

Time to check in!