*Note: This is Posting #4 in a series of posts. If you haven’t read these before, start here.
First, the Wine Country…
If you look at a map of Sanoma County, just north of a little town called Healdsburg off the 101, there is a squiggly line called Dry Creek Rd. It starts out straight enough as it wends its way north west, eventually becoming Skaggs Springs Rd, at which point all hell breaks loose. It snakes its way south, then east, then south, then west, then north all in a seriously compact stretch of road, and it does this most of the way to the coast. On either side, there are vineyards with grape vines in neat little rows dripping with large green leaves and little clusters of purple and red.
We’d stopped in Healdsburg earlier to pick up something to eat on the road (my diet was destined to be very restrictive for some time eliminating fast food or even mainstream dining for the most part). I’d selected a freshly made vegetable sushi roll, some fruit and spring water. So there we were; driving our Porsche with the top down, a brilliant blue sky overhead, lightly dotted with fluffy white perfect clouds, vineyards on either side of the road stretching up hills and valleys as far as the eye could see, eating fucking sushi. I looked at Grant and said, “Are you fucking kidding me? This is like a scene from a movie. Who actually does this?” Apparently we do. Unreal.
It took us the better part of the day as we made our way to the California coast line. The road winded and dipped, passing old bridges, climbing and then dipping again. Being a race car driver, my husband was in heaven. I was enthralled by the scenery. Eventually passing through the wine country, we entered a denser region of trees that changed in character and size as we made our way north west. Towards the end of this stretch, redwood trees lined the roadside. The sun’s rays peeked through the canopy high above us, lending a very Lord of the Rings quality to the world. It was one of the most stunning drives we’ve ever done.
We climbed a small hill, passing through the last bit of forest and arrived at a stop sign at Route 1 (aka the Pacific Coast Highway). It’s called Stewarts Point, and was like being dropped in the middle of what I imagine Ireland to look like. Holy fuck. Don’t believe me? Google it and look at the images.
See? I wasn’t even kidding.
We stopped at the quaint little store conveniently called Stewarts Point Store where I bought an avocado, settled on the picnic bench and enjoyed some tasty eats. Grant was staring at me with warm yummy eyes and took the first of many photos of me.