Still not fully adjusted to the time change I am up earlier than I would have planned and consequently ahead of the schedule from the start. By 8.00am I am having coffee in the bakery after finishing my emails and also a walk of five miles on a trail around the foothills of Claremont.
My challenge to Ken would be to walk around any given area of his town for a couple of hours without being greeted by at least three separate groups of people. At 6.30 this morning we are hailed by various colleagues and acquaintances. By 7.00 we are amongst dear friends.
The weather is not quite so lovely as yesterday so the photos of the walk are not as revealing as they should be. However I have included a picture of the bakery where we breakfasted for the last two days which is a vital part of the community. Coffee with an ‘apricot pinwheel’ is a gastronomic experience, and one that cannot be completed without further greetings to innumerable friends. The Some Crust Bakery is a genuine American addition to the sum of human happiness and should be celebrated (and has been here in Claremont since 1916 if the signs are to be believed. Nothing else in the bakery is fraudulent so I am happy to take their word on the longevity of the place).
After a wash and packing I am ready to undertake the drive north to my next stop in Santa Ynez. The first part of the drive is largely tedious, passing through the outer reaches of Los Angeles; enlivened occasionally by flashes of semi-remembered Hollywood names like Burbank studios and Disney animation centers. But then I drop down to the sea and enter Santa Barbara.
The mission here is one of the great spots in California. It dominates the town and the sea and a hundred years ago, surrounded by vines and gardens, it must have been an almost idyllic setting. Even today it is a tranquil spot in a part of the world where tranquility is rare. This is ancient heritage for Californians but recent history by many standards, the missions being founded in the second half of the C18. There is a temptation for Europeans to look down on these later additions to world history but this would certainly be a mistake in this context. Santa Barbara is now as famous here in America as ever she is in Spain or Italy and her tower is a symbol not lacking in contemporary relevance.
Santa Barbara is a town that expects to be liked. The shoreline is a great expanse of beach backed by a long grassy esplanade which allows runners and walkers and cyclists to enjoy the seemingly endless sunshine. Main Street is a restaurant lined thoroughfare which leads away from the shore and up towards the hills. Higher up the usual parades of shops give the traveller another reason to visit.
I continue over the pass to the Santa Ynez valley. I have promised to take Stagecoach road (the name speaks for itself) over the pass and down to the Cold Springs tavern that served travellers for centuries and is still serving beer to groups of youngsters on a Saturday afternoon while amateurs sing to a guitar accompaniment. It would be a shame to lose any of this.
Now it all changes and we are in wine country, and horse country. The estates get bigger and richer and the surrounds ooze the self-importance that comes from wealth. My hosts this evening are delightful; they welcome me into what in Europe would be described as a mansion and we are soon drinking exceptional wine over a magnificent boeuf bourguignon and enjoying the treat of meeting new and vital people. It is a lovely lovely day to end so well.
