Baja, the Enigma: Part 2

Soon we were bumping along the red dirt road through cool fog, ocean crashing on the rocks only a few feet away from our car – we were finally back at the coast. And we were, for the most part, alone. The scenery was stunning, but after a while we began to question where we were, how far this road went, if we should keep going or maybe turn back. Unfortunately, we didn’t have our camping stuff and our food supply was down to some Nutella we bought at the Wal-Mart in Rosarito, a couple bananas and the rest of a flat of Pacificos (one of Jordi’s favorite things about Mexico is they sell the beer in flats). Just when we thought we should head back towards civilization, a big pick-up truck came rolling out of a side road, coming to a dusty stop right in front of us. Out the window, a friendly booming voice asked us if we were lost. We ended up following John and Katy onward to the settlement of Punta Cabra, and up the hill to their house. Luckily we had plenty of those Pacifico's to share.

John was from Arizona and Katy was from L.A., but Punta Cabra is where they made their home, one cement room at a time. Although Americans can’t own land in Mexico, they were leasing the land for $1,000 a year. The landlord, whose bright blue house sat cheerily in the middle of the hill, essentially rents out plots of his acres for the gringos to build their dreams. In this exclusive fiefdom of Punta Cabra, you are only allowed land if the main guy likes you. If he decides he would not like you as his neighbor then... adios compadre. 

At John and Katy's house in Punta Cabra.
 Misty views and tales of Baja adventures. 

Sacher Construction representin'

But if you make the cut, then you enjoy sweeping views of the ocean, rocky cliffs down to the waves, rolling hills dotted with homemade houses, quiet trails along the water, abundant fishing, fun surf, friendly locals and a community of expats – I could see why no one would want to leave. It’s a completely different existence than the fast paced and crowded life many of us succumb to. Here, a days excitement is a trip along the dusty roads to the nearest tienda, or setting out in your boat to catch dinner for you and the neighbors, or mixing cement for whatever remodeling you have going on. John and Katy showed us their BB guns they use to shoot rabbits (apparently quite delicious), their dirt bikes and ATV’s, the beach you can see from their property where they caught more clams than they knew what to do with, the caves where the rivulet of fresh water meets the sea, which attracted goat herdsmen back in the day, likely giving Punta Cabra (Goat Point) its name.

Picnic, with a lot of coastline just to ourselves

Eventually we said au revoir to our new friends and waved out the window as we headed further north on the dirt road towards the surfing beach John told us about. We weren’t expecting anything fantastic since there was no swell, but it was fun to check it out for next time. Although there were no waves, we opened up the back of our car and had a picnic (you guessed it – nutella and cheap beer) We contemplated taking the coast road north all the way until it turned inland, eventually dumping you out at a little town called Santo Tomas. But we also wanted to get through Ensenada before dark to minimize our chances of getting lost, and the way we came had more paved roads. Thus we turned back, happily satisfied with a little does of adventure in our bones. If duty wasn’t calling, I like to think we would stay down there indefinitely. We do plan on going back some day - when we have a map, a tent, and no one expects us home….

We bumped back the way we came, found the highway and took toll roads to save time. We saw the sunset over Salsipuedes, and got on the lookout for somewhere to stay. Jordi remembered a motel on the beach at K38 (just north of Las Gaviotas), so we headed there.

After knocking at the gate, we were let in by the jovial owner and shown our simple but mostly clean room (Jordi did have to kill one of those huge nasty centipede monsters in the sink). Unfortunately, the tank was out of water until the truck came to fill it up the next day, but we managed to squeeze some drops out of the shower and then were on our way to find actual food.

Puerto Nuevo was pretty mellow for a Friday night, and everyone wanted us to buy trinkets or come to their restaurant.

“Free Tequila!”

Hmm, sketchy.

“Come try, es homemade!”

Ya, definitely not.

Puerto Nuevo...

...the only time we can afford lobster ;) 

What I did want however, were homemade tortillas and a homemade blanket. After some successful bargaining I scored a gorgeous hand woven blanket from central Mexico that smelled muskily of an old loom, not a factory. To find somewhere with legit tortillas, a nearby glass blower  pointed us in the direction of a hidden place on the water. We sat by the window and  ordered the requisite lobsters and margaritas. Since we were practically the only people in there, we were waited on hand and foot. The food was delicious and plentiful (we easily shared a meal), and everyone was incredibly friendly – I say everyone because we met everyone from the waiter who brought us waters, to the bartender who mixed our drinks, to the lobster guy who helped us chose a size, to the tortilla ladies. They wanted to know how often we visited, if we were scared of Mexico, where we came from, if we were on vacation. They were excited and honored that we could speak Spanish. We said goodbye to our waiter, Felipe, and the others, and left happy and full – or as they say more poetically in Spanish “llenos y contentos”.

We made it back to Robert’s Surf Motel and crashed on the bed. A few hours later I awoke to the Japanese banter of our neighbors on the patio outside smoking, reading travel books and chatting. It was an ungodly time of night and my first thought was they were going to the airport. But then, no one in Baja has a plane to catch….so who knows what that was about. Shortly after we were awakened again when a food-poisoned Jordi became suddenly and violently sick (thankfully we had bottled water). I eventually left our room and walked out the side gate to the quiet ocean, mossy stones and an almost full moon. The Japanese tourists, the yapping dogs, the sick husband all back at the motel, and memories of a quiet, gorgeous and unknown Baja in the moonlit black water. 

EPILOGUE:

The large Jesus statue
outside the motel

Robert's K-38 Motel

 The next morning we saw the big tank being filled with water. Jordi was feeling better, so we surfed for a bit out front, and took nice hot showers afterwards. The hotel owner made us some coffee and we lay in lounge chairs by the beach, petting their dogs and drinking their coffee. After packing up the car, we headed to the border. We got in line, bought fruit bowls with lime and chili for breakfast and waited for about two hours to cross. We forgot to ditch the eggs in our ice chest, and had to go through second inspection. But after that, we were on our way home….

Surf and coffee

A quiet morning

Good times at the border

Baja, the Enigma: Part 1

One of the many roadblocks when driving though Baja. We had to get out and stand in the hot sun while they searched our car thoroughly for drugs. All they found were Pacifico's, which were heartily approved. 

     As we pulled into the dusty gas station, a man approached us offering to pump. I shoved a $20 bill into Jordi’s hand and left him to deal with it as I made a bee line for “el baño”, the main reason we stopped in this tiny town in the first place. As I happily and lightly walked back to the car, I found Señor Gas Pumper and Husband Jordi cheerily chatting away, the attendant being very curious about us while we were trying to figure out where we were. Standing there in an unknown village in Baja with no map, no food, and a dwindling supply of cash, I realized communication sure does come in handy - I was grateful we knew Spanish...

I’ve stopped at numerous gas stations throughout various countries, and although it felt like we could be as far away as a remote gas station in Bolivia, we were in fact, only a day’s drive away from our house in San Clemente. So close, yet so far away…

Beautiful Las Gaviotas

     We started off our trip being pretty close and not too far away. Midweek we drove down and rented a house in the gated, manicured and cobblestoned development south of Rosarito called Las Gaviotas. Away from our noisy apartment, noisy lives and noisy phones. We 

One reason why Wal-Mart in
Mexico is way cooler. Lunch to-go,
 no sandwiches here....

had the private surf break out front to ourselves, watched movies, went on walks, enjoyed the stars and the quiet. But then the weekend crowd started to get thick with bachelor parties, family vacations and weekend warriors. We had to leave, but weren’t sold on the idea of going home quite yet.

     So as we exited the gates of security, we didn’t turn north towards the border, home, responsibilities, or voicemails; we booked it south. We drove in the misty morning past surf spots and restaurants still familiar, stopping once to check the small albeit relentless surf at an unprotected shallow beach break.

As the road eventually turned east, we immediately escaped the thick coastal fog, coming into the realization that it was, in fact, a gorgeous day. A few houses and fields scattered about led into a one street town. We were told an internet café could be found next to the police station, and if it wasn’t for a vertical speed bump, we would have missed seeing either.

Small town, just east of the coastal fog. 

       

    

   

 The group of men with their heads in the hood of the bright blue 80’s jeep parked out front saluted us as we approached, one following us inside to set us up with a computer. After making the necessary arrangements, we thanked everyone and got back in the car. We had asked Señor Internet where this road led, and he explained it was the curvier and slightly longer route to Ensenada, versus the straight toll road along the coast.  As we drove along the meandering lane through the low hills, I could see trails that looked fun to run on and the fog in the distance, content to sit over the coast and come no further. We passed a field with all 15 cows crowded under the shade of one tree, birds swooping and soaring in the blank blue sky and even a road runner, with the funny feathers on top of his head, skiddadling across the asphalt.

      Eventually we got closer to the fog, becoming engulfed in the grey city of Ensenada. There are no freeways, just endless stoplights as you make your way through myriad furniture shops and eateries. Each restaurant or taco cart seemed to tout their wares from all over Mexico – Pan de Jalisco, Tacos y Menudo: Estilo Michoacan, Pollo Oaxaca.

     Before we knew it, we were out of the city, heading along the highway, alone with the trucks.

The road was either empty, stretching out across plains until it disappeared into the rocky red hills, or else we were behind a truck belching diesel as we wandered from left to right, checking curves and waiting for a chance to pass.

     Years ago, Jordi had been to a spot on the beach called Cuatros Casas. It was his vague memory of a dirt road that turned off from a little village that served as our only compass. After a couple hours of stunning scenery and impressively slow trucks, we pulled into a small little town and stopped at the first corner tienda we saw. Starving, we grabbed some corn chips off the shelf while asking the lady for a bathroom and if we were anywhere near Cuatros Casas. She didn’t have a bathroom and had never heard of Cuatros Casas, but she did know there was a road to the coast a few miles back, and the gas station had a bathroom.

And that’s how we found ourselves chatting with the friendly attendant who, since we didn’t have a map, drew directions in the red dust on the car, and waved us off in the right direction.

Little Summer Outings: 3, 4

GREAT PARK

Hot. Flat. Adolescent trees that can't grow shade. It's getting there...

Timeline painted on an air strip

Kids play area with Balloon in the background

Carousel

Tandem Bicycle near the airstrip, aka the "recycled-use
cement parking lot".  H ow eco-friendly of them!

   









   











     Orange County's Great Park is a work in progress - after all, turning acres of cement into a park is no easy feat! The Great Park will only take up less than 30% of the decommissioned Marine Corps Air Station, which means over 1,347 acres are allotted for OC's biggest park.
The first order of business was a big orange balloon, set up in 2007 to take visitors 500 feet up in the air for panoramic views of the county, free of charge. Since then the park has added a kids play area, a great lawn, sports fields, organic gardens, a small museum, carousel, and they even have Farmer's Markets every Sunday morning.
Mostly I wanted to go up in the big balloon, and recruited my sister to meet me at the park for a look around. After getting lost in the suburbahell of south orange county (it's hard to figure out where you are when everything looks the SAME), I finally made it to the entrance of the park. My sister and I were almost the only ones in the parking lot on this hot July day, where none of the trees are big enough to park under, unfortunately. So we made our way across the shadeless parking lot and along the shadeless fields, over the shadeless timeline (painted on an air strip) to the shadeless entrance for the balloon. However, the was no line, and the gates were closed! We found an information tent, air conditioned thank heavens, where they told us the balloon was under inspection until the next week. This was grim news, but we decided to explore anyways. We rode the carousel (it was free) walked through the museum (interesting, albeit very small), found some shade at the Kids Rock park, and searched in vain for anything cold to drink or eat. We wanted to find the botanical gardens but the July asphalt and our hunger drove us to call it a day. We ended up going down the freeway to the Irvine Spectrum to sit in the AC and drink a smoothie.
My consensus is that this up-and-coming park will be awesome in a few years. Right now it's pretty hot, flat, not that exciting and there's no food or vending machines (a cold water or Coke would have been amazing). However, now that the balloon is offering rides again, I'll have to give it another shot. Plus, now I know that you should bring your own food and drinks, and hats and sunscreen (or come during Farmers). And if you ever have an inkling for an Ultimate Frisbee showdown, their fields would be a perfect spot!

Redondo Beach

Redondo Beach - on the Esplanade, looking South towards Palos Verdes

Yellow Vase - my favorite! 

I didn't expect visiting Redondo to be quite so emotional. This was our spot. We lived in the Village of Redondo Beach, nestled up to the hills of Palos Verdes, lights criss crossing the streets of downtown, and the wide white bike path along the flat beach that disappears in the distance, going all the way to Malibu. This was our street, with the green grass divider, trees all the way down, where we put out all our junk and acquired all our treasures. I remember waking up on weekend mornings to the sounds of cyclists and their loud snippets of conversation while whizzing by: "AND HAVE YOU SEEN GARY'S DOG" or "COULDN'T BELIEVE HIS MOM WOULD SAY" 

Anyways, we hadn't visited in far too long, not since living in San Clemente. It's like a past relationship, where you know why you had to go your separate ways, but you still appreciate the great qualities that made you fall in love in the first place.

Things like our magical little spot in the middle of LA-ness, our three minute walk to the ocean, how the beach ended and the cliffs began, breakfasts at Yellow Vase, riding our bikes to Penguins Frozen Yogurt, meandering the craziness of the pier and harbor, biking along the coast to Manhattan Beach for Sunday morning coffee and newspapers.

We lived here during some of the hardest times of our life - newly married, my family recovering from a recent tragedy, we didn't know a single person, I had trouble finding a job, Jordi hated his commute to Hollywood and I hated his long, long hours. It was lonely and hard at times, but eventually we did make some friends, I found a job, and we got to know and love our area - Redondo Beach had become our home. 

So the other week, when we finally went back for a visit and I found myself crying into my coffee cup at Yellow Vase, I thought something must be wrong with me. But when I started thinking about it, Redondo holds a lot of memories. Some of the hardest memories of our married life, and some of the sweetest. The first place we both called home still holds a very special place in our hearts. And although your trip might not be filled with walks down memory lane, everyone can find it enjoyable, and it's definitely a town I highly recommend visiting.

Take your bike, and cycle along the coast to the pier.
Go to Yellow Vase for breakfast, or stop in at one of the many cute restaurants in town.
Go up into Palos Verdes and take in the stunning views
Rent a kayak, or take your own down at Torrance Beach
Get a beer from Naja's Place at the Harbor - they have 88 on tap!

The Jesus van! In its daily spot by Trader Joe's

Looking North from Torrance Beach (in front
of our old apartment)

Looking South

Kayaking in the coves of Palos Verdes

Little Summer Outings: 1, 2

Recently this blog about discovering has leaned heavily on the traveling aspect, and I've told about weekend or week long trips from the Central Coast to Mexico and El Salvador. Now weeks have gone by since I've last written, but it hasn't been because I haven't been doing or discovering anything. I guess I just thought my little outings weren't exciting enough to write about, and I was too busy having a good time to stop and take pictures or document the experiences. But even so, I have some outings under my belt that might give you some ideas of what to do during these long days or empty weekends. I will share four of my most recent mini adventures in one blog post, all little trips that you can do in a day or even a few hours.

NEWPORT BEACH

Steering the boat :)

A foggy Saturday morning in the early summer had us driving up coast highway on our way to Marina Sailing in Newport Beach, donned in our deck shoes and gripping our Groupons. Unfortunately, we were running typically late, but fortunately they held the boat for us. We breathlessly jumped onboard, met the captain and the four other students. We had signed up for a group sailing class in the Newport Beach harbor through Groupon, and there were two other Groupon couples our age aboard as well.
We circled around the marina, each of us getting opportunities to practice tacking, jibing, and steering while our captain told us many stories about the eccentrics who live in the mansions on the water. Our morning on the boat felt like a mix between a class, a harbor cruise, and a vacation. Just as we were starting to get hungry for lunch, our old salt captain, who was a character straight out of a Margaritaville story, expertly guided us back to the docks just as the sun was starting to come through the clouds.

Coconuts stamped with the Bear Flag logo

Having heard about Bear Flag Fish Co. from some friends, we decided to head there for food. After all, being on the water whetted our appetite for fresh fish! We found the little restaurant in a cute enclave in the neighborhoods of the Newport Peninsula, nestled between boutiques and beach cottages on a quiet tree lined street. But the restaurant wasn't quiet - it was bustling with activity and a line going out the door. While waiting in line, you can grab a drink from the wall, anything from coconut water to canned sodas or Pellegrino. Once ordering at the counter, it will be hard to decide on just one thing! They offer a variety of seafood tacos and burritos, and a big case shows off all the fresh fish and salads. I opted for a side of ahi poke and a side of seaweed salad (both AMAZING) and Jordi got a fish burrito. We got a side of chips and salsa, which was enough to feed a family. Outside there are two big tables meant to share. As we munched our lunch in the sun, we saw some of our sailing mates who wandered into the same spot for lunch, and joined us the rest of the meal. Apparently this place is BYOB, so if you have a hankering for some craft brew to go with your fresh fish, it's a delightful spot to enjoy it. Newport Beach is full of spots to walk, ride your bike, shop, or do something fun on the water. I would highly recommend the Bear Flag Fish Company after your exertions, with a walk around the block peeking into shops or checking out the Lido theatre around the corner while you're there. Have fun - and tell me about your Newport adventures!

DANA POINT

Yoga in the Park

Free yoga in the park? What sounds like a group of stretching hippies in the shade is actually an organized event put on by a group of highly qualified yoga instructors, most hailing from local yoga studios. Every single day at 10 a.m. at Lantern Park (weather permitting), a rotating schedule has a different instructor show up to lead newbies and veterans alike through sun salutations and downward facing dog poses. I was pleasantly surprised how professional the teachers were - extremely open to teaching those that didn't know what they were doing and encouraging those that did. The donation based class is an hour long, and you definitely get a work out and stretch out of the deal, along with the fantastic views of the Dana Point Harbor. If you're a starving artist, penniless surfer or college student you can absolutely enjoy this free class, however, if you can afford it, I would highly recommend tipping these ladies and gentlemen for their time and effort in teaching. Even a five dollar tip is less than you would pay for a yoga class anywhere else!

Saturday Morning Pancakes booth at the Craft Fair in Dana Point

After an invigorating week day yoga session, head over to the harbor and refuel at Coffee Importers, popular for their delicious coffee and bagel sandwiches. However, if you go to Free Yoga on a Saturday, then I would recommend going to J.C. Beans Coffee House, another great spot and located next to the Saturday Farmers Market. Bookshelves line the walls and the smell of freshly roasted coffee greets you as you walk in the door. This independent little coffee shop is located on PCH, and it's only a block away from the Saturday Farmers Market (hours are 10 - 2). So grab your drink and walk the couple streets down to the tents and enjoy the little market. Although it's small, there are delicious fruits and veggies and it's worth the stroll. The first Saturday of the month also includes a craft fair, which is very very fun to walk around! Great jewelry, knitted hats, paintings, and my new favorite vendor - Saturday Morning Pancakes, where the cute and funny sayings stenciled on tea towels and pillows had me happily spending all my money :) The next fair is Saturday, August 4 - and who knows, maybe you'll even see Roney Macaroni there! I'm working on it, anyways.
So what with free yoga and a view of the Harbor, independent coffee shops and fun craft fairs - Dana Point delivers on a Saturday morning.

Fly to El Salvador

     I've heard it said that there's no such thing as love at first sight, but I've had it happen to me once. Jordi and I were en route to a backpacking trip in South America, and had a layover in El Salvador. When my ears started popping, I curiously peeked to see where we'd be landing. I saw little swells rolling into a curvy coast, white waves crashing along narrow strips of black sand and endless green stretching out under us. We flew closer over the lush treetops and big grassy fields, empty except for a few goats snacking in the shade. And then WHUMP - we landed! Here, by the ocean, the goats and the trees, was El Salvador's international airport. As I sat in the humid airport waiting for our flight to Lima, I looked out the big windows and imagined ditching all our plans, renting a jeep and booking it for the coast. What would we find?? It had to be good.

     Instead I contented myself with an almost-cold Diet Coke (so it goes in the tropics), a bag of Chiky's - Central America's Favorite Cookie, and my daydreams.

     We had an amazing time in South America and I'm so glad we went. However, I couldn't get El Salvador out of my mind. My brother, an avid surfer, often makes trips to El Sal, and it's to him I went with my enquiries. With nay a Lonely Planet in his repertoire, he told me tales about this mysteriously seductive place, his trips relying on memory and experience alone.

     Over a year of working, going to birthday parties and picking up the house on Saturdays went by when I decided to just buy the tickets. They're a little hard to come by these days - TACA is the only airline that flies direct from LA, and that's at one in the morning. It's not a hotspot, so for $200 more you could get yourself to London or Prague. Plus, a board bag costs $150 each way, so you almost may as well buy your surfboards a seat next to you. But we bought the tickets, decided to rent boards when we got there ($10/day), found a hostel with airport transfer, and off we went.

     After a sleepless night with an awful movie and an awful breakfast, I looked out my port hole and saw the loveliness I had seen over a year previously. Blue ocean, white waves, green trees and happy goats. Once again we landed, but this time we excitedly trooped out into the beautiful morning. A solid rain the night before left the air fresh and the earth heavy. Our driver met us outside and we piled into his red pick-up truck, chugging past coconut stands, loud busses and vine-laden trees. Windows down, we cruised along the one highway towards the coast, happy as clams. I was officially on my first date with the country I had spotted across the (waiting) room, and with the warm, damp wind in my face, everything was perfect.

Our trip in Pictures:

A quiet airport

Lawn mowers and fertilizer - La Libertad

Only street in town, it leads to the main
highway. And a gorgeous tree...

Delicious local coffee and reading up on politics -

Apparently a quarter of Salvadorans live

in the U.S. - a result of a revolution in the 80's

and a harsh economy (half in NY, half in LA)

Jordi scored a solo surf session

My spot as the photographer -

the neighborhood mutts liked to

keep me company!

The best (albeit only) pupusa place in town -

50 cents each can't be beat!

Iguana hangin out in the mango tree above our room :)

View of the waves at the river mouth from the hammock

Another town, another wave and still awesome

**UNFORTUNATELY blogspot is an awful forum for uploading pics, and I wasn't able to show you all the ones I wanted to, but you get the idea... :)

For a lil video of the trip:  http://vimeo.com/44334039

A Sunday Driver

Historic San Clemente Golf Club

Golfing, like skiing, is a rich man's sport. Or so I thought until I found myself putting in front of a local golf club - ocean sparkling in the distance, whir of carts driving by, and coffee still warm in my belly.
"How can this be free??" I thought to myself, as I focused on keeping my arms straight and aligning my feet.

Putting with a glimpse of the ocean

Golf can be a gaudy sport - How many clubs do you have? What kind? What brand? Do you own a cart? Are you properly dressed and cleated? Where did you learn? Are you a member? Have you eaten the ahi tartar down at the club?
But I have some news for you - ANYONE can enjoy the benefits and beauty of a golf course on a quiet morning or warm evening without breaking the bank, and I highly recommend it.

It all started when some friends invited Jordi to play golf with them on Saturday.
"But you don't play golf," I pointed out.
He figured he could borrow a club and whack some balls without prior lessons, and deciding to forgo his flip-flops in lieu of shoes at the last moment, he was out the door.
Once my spy to the Promised Land returned, he told me tales of rolling green hills flowing with milk and honey - or more specifically how one could putt for free in front of the restaurant, and drive for cheap, enjoying the spectacular views so many Orange County courses provide. Throw in a breakfast or Happy Hour and we had ourselves a date. Plus he assured me that this pertained to just about any golf course there is.

Misty morning and hot coffee

After dropping a Hamilton at Play It Again Sports for a couple of used clubs and balls, we set about researching the menus for clubs near our house. We most certainly wouldn't want to show up and Not Eat!
We decided on the San Clemente City Golf Course, located at the South end of town, just a few miles from us. Situated in the middle of a neighborhood, the atmosphere is not too exclusive or intimidating and they even have a restaurant that advertises in the local paper. We sat on the patio overlooking the greens, warm under a heat lamp in the quiet misty morning. We had breakfast and coffee and read the paper, and then went out front to try out our new clubs and balls. We putted about for awhile and Jordi gave me my first lesson. It was really fun to have a reason to hang out in the beautiful morning, the sun warming our backs as we purposefully practiced.

A couple weeks later, we went for another golf adventure. This time we were on a bike ride, and decided to stop by the golf course for some driving and a drink. They have clubs for borrowing and a basket of balls costs $6. We then found a spot on the line-up and practiced schwacking the balls into the netherworld. Once our basket of balls was out, we sat by the fire-pits at the outdoor patio. Jordi ordered a beer and I got an iced tea. Drinks and driving set us back about $15, and provided fun, mellow outdoor entertainment on a beautiful spring day.

Driving range

I'd like to explore some different golf courses and check out all the different views and menus they come with, while practicing my stance and aim. My favorite aspect of golf, or in our case putting and driving, is that it gives us an excuse to be social, outside, and affordably "fancy", all in the same swing. Southern California has some of the best weather in world -  so get off the internet and go for a midweek putt or a 'Sunday drive'!

Greens at the Golf Course

The local line-up. (Picture by Nic Romano)

It was a rainy Saturday morning, and as I drank my tea I remembered some chatter from the night before about an organic farm stand at the golf course.  Friends had come over for dinner and after a bottle of wine and talk of packing suitcases and getting on a train to Oregon, the benefits of raising goats, the odds of winning the lottery, how to blog on Wordpress and other topics of conversation throughout the evening, I couldn't be sure if the farm at the golf course was a dream or a real thing -- or as real as our plan to raise goats in Oregon. Maybe we had also planned to farm the golf course? So I decided to trek off to find the mystical organic farm stand somewhere in the fog of my memory and the San Clemente hills.

Turning off the street and down a lane with cypress trees on each side, whisking me to the front doors of the elegant Bella Collina club, I felt a bit self conscious with my put-puttering car whose ceiling is falling in on my head and whose dashboard is held together with silver duct tape. No matter -- I rather like pretending I belong when I obviously don't, so I held my head high as BMW's and Mustangs passed me on their way out the cypress-lined drive through the heavy oak gates. 

I spotted some green umbrella's on the hill side and sighed in relief at the sight of a miniature farmers market taking place. It was real after all. 

I marched up the stone steps and Farmer Nic greeted me, though I didn't know his name until later. Try some raisins, he said, pouring some plump and juicy dried grapes into my palm.

I sampled the fava beans, sucked on a honey stick and picked my own rainbow chard as Farmer Nic packed me a basket of seasonal produce, freshly baked bread and pizza doughs, with a packet of raisins thrown in for good measure.

He told me how his grandfather traveled from Italy to the mines of the Midwest in search of a future. How his grandmother refused to leave her hilly, goat-herding hometown to meet her husband in America, but eventually succumbed to his pleading when he threatened her with divorce. Once in America they grew their own vegetables fertilized with manure, raised their own goats, chickens and children, and baked bread on Tuesdays. 

And here he is now, farming a faux Tuscan hillside with organic procedures and a vibrant heritage. Maybe he came straight out of a book, or maybe the book is just waiting to be written. I thought for sure a farm stand in the golf course must have been a figment of my imagination, but it's as real as the goat-herder from Italy and his golf course greens-growing grandson Nic. 

Villa Romano Green Farms located at Bella Collina Towne and Golf Club

Open from 10-1 on Saturdays

To pre-order a Harvest Basket e-mail farmernic@vrgreenfarms.com

*Although not certified organic, Farmer Nic uses all natural, sustainable practices -just like his family before him. 

Visit my website at www.kirstenrenee.com 

A Hike in the Canyon, With Fudge

Hiking in the hills of Ortega Canyon

     I had been on Ortega Highway once, winding through the canyon from Lake Elsinore to the coast.  In spite of feeling carsick, I thought the scenery was very pretty. But until I kept hearing people talk about their weekend adventures, which seemed to always take place in Ortega Canyon, I didn't realize there was so much to discover off the road.

Ortega Oaks Candy Store and Goods, on Ortega Highway

     So the other day, when neither of us had work, I put my foot down for a trip to Ortega Canyon, which is part of the Cleveland National Forest. My husband was reluctant, as we had no idea where to go, where to park, if you needed a Park Pass to hike or how much that would cost, or how far we would have to drive before finding something - if anything.
     But I had heard about a good hiking trail behind the Candy Store on Ortega Highway. I figured that was enough information to go on, so I packed our lunch and waters, tossed Jordi the car keys and hopped in the front seat.  (Kind of like a dog holding his leash when it's time to go to the park....)
Being the good sport that he is, he followed suit and started driving us off to our adventure. The coastal fog receded as we drove into the Canyon, giving way to a beautiful sunny day. Houses became sparse, and eventually we found ourselves officially entering the National Forest.

Inside the candy shop

     We finally came across the Ortega Oaks Candy Store and Goods about 20 miles from the 5 Freeway and located on the South side of the Highway. Apparently this little store sells day use passes for $5 to park in the National Forest. You hang one in your car and it's good until 10 a.m. the next morning. We pulled into the little parking lot next to a simple blue building on the side of the road, with picnic tables and umbrellas outside. We walked through the screen door and into the shop, which felt more like the kitchen and living room of an old aunt with a bad sense of style, a welcoming heart and a talent for cooking fudge.
     With bins full of nostalgia-inducing candies (Andes mints and salt water taffy are my favs)
 and homemade chocolates, we couldn't simply walk off with our park pass, but picked out some dark chocolate almond bark as well.
     Trail heads go up from behind the candy shop, as well as from the parking lot across the street. Hiking and horseback riding are allowed on both sides, but mountain biking is only allowed on trails North of the highway.
     We opted for a trail that began behind the shop marked "Bear Canyon Trail". From that trail, we ended up doing a loop about five miles long. We stopped along the way to have our sack lunch - a typical meal of pb&j, carrots, fruit and BONUS: the almond chocolate bark we picked up at the candy store.

You can't see the bees, but they were there. The hive is
in the dark spot of the trunk.

     Walking back we heard a loud hum, and stopped to see a large swarm of bees who had taken over a tree trunk lying across the creek. I wished I could dip my hand into the fresh honey, but thought better of it and satisfied myself with a picture instead. I'm definitely going to buy some Ortega Canyon honey next chance I get, though!
     We finished the rest of the loop in no time, and were back at the car in a few hours, tired and content. Finding some homemade chocolate in the middle of nowhere, purchasing a pass for only $5, hiking in the woods with no one but the birds and bees, and a beautiful, relatively short drive to get there made a great success out of our uncertain outing!