Mendocino

Mendocino is a charming and picturesque hamlet of 1,100 residents along the Pacific Coast Highway (Route 1), about 170 miles north of San Francisco. Built by homesick New Englanders during the logging boom of the 1850s, the town resembles a New England village with Victorian gingerbread mansions, white picket fences, and rose gardens. The logging days are long gone, and today the town if full of upscale Bed and Breakfasts, shops, and restaurants.

The spectacular Mendocino Headlands State Park surrounds the village, with trails crisscrossing the bluffs and rocky coves.

On our first trip to Northern California in 2012, we had visited and fallen in love with Mendocino. We just felt so at home there. Normally we spend two weeks every summer on the island of Martha’s Vineyard off the coast of Massachusetts, but because of the boys’ move west this summer, this would be the first time in 30 years that we wouldn’t be able to get there. Mendocino would have to give us our New England “fix,” with its saltbox houses, gingerbread mansions, white-picket fences, rose gardens, and water towers.

Although we had been to Mendocino before, this would be the first time with the motorhome, and after our harrowing drive down Route 1 from 101, I feared it might be our last. The steep switchbacks leading down to the coast were unbelievable, and there was no place to pull over. Herb could feel the brakes pressing a bit too far down to the floor, the same thing that had happened to us when our brakes failed coming out of Death Valley. Despite the lack of a spot to pullover, we just stopped as far right as we could on the road, took a deep breath, and waited for the brakes to cool off. We now knew that whenever there is a road sign warning “No King Pins,” we don’t want to be on that road. However, I don’t know if there is a better alternative. You have to get down to the coast somehow.

Herb was toast by the time we reached Caspar Beach RV Park, where we would be spending the next two nights. Fortunately, I had made a reservation in advance, because it was the weekend, and the campground was absolutely packed. As far as RV parks go, this one was pretty bad. They packed you in so close to your neighbor that you could barely open the door. What it did have, however, is location location location. The campground is right across the street from beautiful Caspar Beach. For that, we were willing to put up with the close quarters. We could watch the sunset from the beach, and then just go inside and pull down the shades. And that is exactly what we did that first night.

The next morning we decided to get some exercise mountain biking the trail that runs along the Big River. The trail begins at the end of a dirt road just north of the Big River Bridge, and a short distance south of the village of Mendocino. Adjacent to the parking lot, there is a nice sandy beach that is a good place to swim or launch a kayak.

A gate at the end of the parking lot marks the beginning of the Big River Trail, an old railroad right-of-way that now serves as a recreational trail for hikers, bikers, and joggers. Although the trail actually extends for over ten miles into the Mendocino Woodlands, most cyclists turn around at the fork at mile 6.5, making it a nice 13 mile ride.

The first 4 miles of so of the ride were quite level and scenic, with frequent views of the river. Since the river is tidal, this section is also great for kayaking, and if timed right, you can go up river on the rising tide and return on the ebb.

After about mile 4, the estuary ends at Dry Dock Gulch and the ride became a little hillier and the foliage along the river a bit thicker, obstructing the view of the river.

Around mile 5, we started looking for a way to get down to the river to have lunch and maybe even swim, hopefully on a sandy beach. It was a bit of a challenge, but we eventually found a nice spot to do just that, except the water was a bit too shallow at this point upstream to do much more than wet our ankles. Still, it was nice and peaceful.

After our break, we continued riding another mile and a half or so before the trail came to a fork, and like most other riders, we turned around and headed back out to the mouth of the river.

While the river ride was nice, the real draw of Mendocino is its beautiful coastline, so once again, as in our last visit, we picked up a bottle of wine and some delicious sandwiches at the Mendocino Market Deli and headed out to our favorite bench on the Mendocino Headlands for a picnic. It’s nice to feel so familiar with a place that you actually have a favorite bench.

The evening was perfect, or at least it would have been if I had remembered to pack the red cups, and we didn’t have to swig surreptitiously out of our wine bottle. Hopefully, no one saw.

Actually there was one thing that Herb felt was a little less than perfect – the temperature. Last year, we were here in late May and it was warm. Tonight, however, it was quite chilly, and we had to be pretty well bundled up to stay warm.

While we sat on a bench enjoying the scenery, we noticed a young couple with a small child and a dog, romping playfully on the beach at the base of the bluff. It’s funny how two people (that have been married as long as Herb and I) can have such different perceptions of the same scene. While I thought the scene was idyllic – a happy, loving family enjoying each other’s company on a beautiful evening in a spectacular setting, Herb mumbled something about it being so sad. “What could you possibly mean?” I asked in surprise. My husband, who has learned to hate the cold and craves warmth and sunlight, responded, “That poor child is going to grow up thinking that it’s perfectly fine to be wearing a parka on the beach in mid-July.” I chose to ignore him and swig from my bottle of wine.

As if the scenery wasn’t beautiful enough, just after the sun set, we began to hear music off in the distance. This place was so magical. Last time we sat on this bench watching the sunset, we were serenaded by young woman who sat nearby playing a dulcimer. Now we were being treated to some lovely classical music.

Like moths drawn to a flame, we followed the sweet strains of Rachmaninoff’s Symphony #2 to its source: a large white tent a bit further in on the headlands. Unbeknownst us, we had fortuitously stumbled upon opening night of the annual Mendocino Classical Music Festival. Never ones to pass up a free entertainment opportunity, we set up our Crazy Creek chairs on the edge of the bluff, right behind the tent, and spent the next hour happily gazing out over the water and listening to the San Francisco Symphony Orchestra.

It just doesn’t get much better than this.