Ch-ch-ch-changes, Part II

Oysters from Tomales Bay

      As we progressed on our trip, skipping many of the areas we had already seen on the coast in order to ready ourselves for the sights ahead --the redwoods, the fog-filled coasts further north, the quaint towns and wineries that looked eager for guests-- we discovered that along with the spectacular scenery, the one thing that we had been missing all along was the people; to a person we found everyone so friendly.  We had witnessed this earlier in the counties we had visited (Sonoma and Marin in northern California, home to oysters and wineries); but with what seemed to be so much burnout in the world --the pandemic, the fires, the crowded freeways, the uncertainty-- we were thrown off guard that such kindness and openness were still so readily waiting.  And now we were further north in the little town of Mendocino...

    One such person was Lyla who worked solo at at an upscale breakfast/lunch place, Flow (which stood for Fresh, Local, Organic, Wholesome, a theme which echoed throughout the town).  We were thirsty (and a bit peckish, as my wife says) so we climbed the stairs to the restaurant and immediately noticed the sign...open 10 to 3.  It was now 3:20.  I think they're closed, I said, which was echoed by a voice in back (Lyla's, saying the same thing).  But we noticed that off to the side someone was still there finishing her meal.  Lyla came around the corner and met us, apologizing and saying that all of her kitchen had left and that she was late in taking down the sign below to say that the place was closed.  No problem, we said, but could she recommend a place where we could have a beer (we had yet to check in at our hotel since it was still another 20 minutes away; plus my wife had never been to Mendocino so we decided to stop and take a gander around the town).  You just want a beer, she asked, to which nodded yes.  Come on then, I can pour you a beer, and out we went on the now-empty deck.  The only eatery in Mendocino with an upper deck and the best view in the city, she pointed out.  And indeed it was, for ahead stretched the headlands of Mendocino, a place littered (in a good way) with both B&Bs and memories.

     I had visited Mendocino many moons ago when I lived in a tiny town just north of San Francisco, a town that had a reputation as the last city in Marin county not to have a stoplight (it does now).  Mendocino back then was the place for the "locals" of the Bay area (and other states) to escape, a coastal town limited in growth and fairly remote, both of which likely preserved its wild beauty.  It was also limited in its water, a fact noted by the number of restaurants now forced to place a small surcharge on their bills to help pay for the water that had to be trucked in (the area relies on shallow aquafers which haven't refilled due to the dry conditions of the extended drought).  Throw in the forest fires in the not-too-distant areas and the water situation only became worse.

     Nursing our beers (the fires and water situation had also limited many of the local breweries' production and distribution so even the beer menus were quite limited), the remaining diner came over and asked where we were from, then proceeded to pull up a chair and tell us all about the local hangouts...the best place for desserts, the place we should go for dinner (we went), the place to go for chocolates, and of course to try the food at the place we were at if we make a return visit.  Off we went for a dinner of fresh grilled king salmon over a Caesar salad, along with a filet of blackened rock cod, a local catch from the nearby harbor town where we were soon to stay.  Along with a calamari appetizer, we had the pleasure of talking with another young lady sitting at the next table...did I mention that people, even the visitors, were friendly?

     We were now quite relaxed, our tummies full and our minds quite content and soon we would be driving through the redwood groves along the Noyo River (we would see many more such groves as we entered both the Mendocino and Humboldt forests).  It was an unexpected pleasure to see so many of these ancient giants still so plentiful, the massive stumps of trees which had fallen centuries ago nearly double the size of the "young" mammoths we now looked at; they were "only" a few hundred years old.  Redwoods thrive in coastal fog, storing the limited moisture gathered high above inside their rough bark, the same bark that now graces so many lawns as mulch, the ancient once-protective layer shredded and chopped to an fraction of their original size, a fingernail clipping of what was once a giant.

    Ahead of us stretched a state border that seemed so close on paper maps (yes, we still use those rare items) but one which would wind and weave us through a series of shadowed roads that only now and then opened up to a straightaway.  I could only think that if we, in our comfortable and climatized car were tiring of the drive, what did the early construction crews think as they chopped through section after section and felt that the forest would never give way?  In one day, perhaps they could "conquer" a mile; but then there would come the removal and the grading and the paving and the signage.  It was an engineering feat that made crossing a chasm seem like little more than kid's work.  Nature had given us a marvel for us to view and now humans were making their own; what was likely a logging path of destruction to get the wood out of there for mines and railroads and bridges, was now a gift that allowed us modern pampered and coddled "pioneers" to whip through at unimaginable speeds.  Cars passed us while large camper trucks struggled; but what was the hurry?  We were here to enjoy it, to see something we wouldn't see anywhere else, and the curvy roads in the forested hills were here to help, to force us to slow down and to take our time.  The redwoods took hundreds and thousands of years to be here.  We could certainly take our time going through them...couldn't we?  Ahead was the Oregon border and what awaited us there was equally ancient...but it would be several hours before we would be anywhere close to it.  We would indeed have to wait.