The purple haired angel and Bolinas
A couple days ago I asked Carlos in a year from now what he wanted to look back and be proud of. He said, simply, ‘us’. I couldn’t agree more.
We drove from Crescent City to Bolinas, California. It was a much longer driver than we anticipated because we have the freedom to stop when we feel like it and see view points, grab a snack, play at a beach…whatever. The great thing about this drive too, is there is pretty much no cellphone reception anywhere. Even in the cities that dot Highway 1, and there seems to be at least small ones every 30-50 miles, there is no cell service. Its fantastic. We could take this drive just from Oregon down to California over the course of a month and still wouldn’t be able to see all the amazing coastline and vantage points. Its breath taking around every corner. In an effort to disconnect and also reconnect, we have taken a fair amount of pictures, but honestly, they do the scenery no justice. Deciding which pictures to share is hard because they simply can not capture the beauty of the coastline, the air, the smells, the plants, the animals…the feeling of this drive.
Bolinas is a small incorporated township just north of Stinson, which is just north across the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco. Carlos and I spent time in Stinson a year and a half ago and fell in love with the city. Bolinas is similar. Its kind of a hideaway city. Street signs are hand painted by one of the handful of people that live on that street, there is a 24 hour farmers market run on an honor system, one restaurant, one bar, one accidental hotel, homes are rustic, weathered, half appearing DIY…its a delightfully reclusive slice of heaven. I read an article the New York Times did on Bolinas and apparently the people that live here keep tearing down the state signs that point out milage and directions to Bolinas, not wanting it to turn into anything other than what it is. Being so close to San Fransisco I understand the fear. This funky little town has seemingly no rules; domesticated dogs roam where ever they want, their newspaper seems to be half satire and titled ‘The Hearsay News’ and most roads are dirt. If tourism or the city moves in, Bolinas will not be Bolinas. I curiously popped up Zillow as we drove through and saw nearly all the properties are worth millions, the homes would be torn down if the city moved in I’m sure and updated houses, condos and hotels would replace the seemingly haphazard dwellings that dot the streets. So here we are, in Bolinas, in a cabin on a private yard covered in costal flora, with a hot tub and two separate outdoor eating spaces, completely secluded, quiet and peaceful. It is delightful. There is a stained glass window in the cabin that I was unable to get a very good picture of because of a dresser, but it is a blonde haired, blue eyed man that looks like he is either gardening or picking flowers. There is a purple haired angel flying above him. Written down the middle it says ‘Shine on you crazy diamond’. The glass is autographed with a personal message from the artist. There is a story behind this piece I am sure, but I teared up when I saw it because it reminds me of Sylvia watching over my dad, who is blonde with blue eyes and an avid gardener. Sylvia, my little dove, you are everywhere. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
Pictures, that do no justice, are of the last couple days including San Fransisco, redwoods, a beach that used to be a city dump and now just the glass remains and has nearly replaced the sand, and random stops along the highway that a street or sign caught our eye and we ventured down.