California Cows

Diane says that in her next life she wants to come back as a California cow. Not just any old cow. But the cows that graze the verdant hills of rural Marin County. On a bright and balmy day just south of Bodega Bay, I want come back as her Cowboy.

Or her director.

Or maybe a Knight. That is if she wanted to come back to the Napa Valley, one of those rare places where a man’s castle is his home.

After leaving Sacramento, and prior to driving through Marin, we paused in Napa Valley for a day. We camped at the only state park in the valley (near Calistoga) and rode our bikes through vineyards blanketed with blooming mustard. It was rainy. It was chilly. It was beautiful. We loved it. As a bonus, we managed to escape before the Cork Dork invasion hit from the Bay Area. No matter the traffic or the prices or the snobbery, I can’t get enough of this place. Some people love Disney Land. I love Napa Valley.

Over the hills, we cruised westward to the town of Sebastopol to visit our friends Rod and Tasha. We met them in France in 2004. Back then, they were helping friends of theirs to renovate an old townhouse into a bed and breakfast. And they’ve got the chops to pull it off. Rod is a carpenter, architect, and recovering cowboy from the Colorado front range. Tasha is a can-do-it-all professional whose skill sets rival those of Martha Stewart.

After a weekend of late breakfasts, lingering lunches, and later dinners, it was time for Rod and Tasha to return to the grindstone and we the road.