Well we were going to go to Yosemite today but we decided late last night to do that tomorrow and Friday. Why did we change our minds - well we had the mad idea of going Kayaking in the Russian River Valley for 10 miles!!
I had my 5km jog which I am trying to stick too in order to avoid looking like Jabba the Hut when I go back to work - and lets face it - there is no such thing as a small portion in the US of A. Secretly I love it because I love food, but the days when I could eat what I want and not put on an ounce are gone as my father lovingly (and happily) keeps reminding me!
After the jog we drove to Forestville - a lovely name! and stumbled upon California's equivalent to the "Whistle stop Cafe" - do you remember that fantastic movie? - "Fried Green tomatoes at the Whistle Stop Cafe"? Well this cafe was called Aoili and the moment I stepped out of the car and onto the little gravel car bay that was reserved for paying patrons of the cafe, I could smell fresh basil and it was really fragrant.... with my mouth watering in anticipation, I stepped through the little doorway of what looked like an old beaten up wooden house and the owner busy making her fresh food looked up and beamed a Californian good morning to me. I looked at the counter and there were pots bubbling away on the stove behind her - which had clearly been well used over the years. The pots were cooking her incredible cold cauliflower soup.
After torturing ourselves (because everything looked good), we ordered fresh chicken salad sandwiches and some of her famous cold soup...I was enchanted with the little place and her. She was proud of her place and was passionate about her food and smiled when I said I loved the whole place smelling of Basil - It was grown organically and locally apparently by their best friends and she was prepping it for using it later on today.
According to the accolades and press coverage that she had lovingly framed, that covered the wall opposite her busy rustic counter, she set it up in 2003 having met her now husband and co-owner at cook school - they had retreated to the Russian Valley to cook - I loved their seemingly simple story - it was romantic and adventurous..and I was envious..what a life style.....and what a place to retreat too - the Russian River Valley is inspiring. Having now sampled their food, I cannot imagine they are not successful and completely adored by the locals. If they are not they should be. Their story, or the little snippet that I had seen, had a "Bridges of Madison County" feel to it - a great film starring Clint Eastwood and Meryl Streep...if you know the film you might understand what I mean.
Having ordered far more food than we needed, we headed off to the Kayak Camp - "Burkes" down the road. It hadn't yet opened but other impatient tourists and travelers had already arrived - in fact some had camped their too - I couldn't quite understand why (where do they pee? I wondered)...it was not clear where or if the restrooms existed! We greeted each other, and Mr Beach Boy at 9.55am reminded us that he didn't open until 10am...He clearly had a routine, which involved sprays and hygiene wipes. He cleaned down the surfaces and then at 10.10am he opened. His little shack just off the river surrounded by Great Reds that piereced the prehistoric sky line.
However first things first - Before anyone got served...Mr Beach Boy cranked up his music box and started beating out the 50's - in fact his whole shack smacked of the 50's. It was brilliant - I got the impression he was a surf dude in his hey day - but how in his late fifties he was obviously taking it a bit easier.... After the inspired orientation - you know the one..."There are 2 rules" - "First, you don't dive into the river...that way you don't get paralysed like some poor kid did last week" and second "you don't leave your kayaks unattended...little 13 year old around here like Kayaks".... After that, I parted with my driving license; we got our complimentary Ice box which we stuffed our food into and headed off to the shore -line. I was quite excited.
However, if a thirteen year old can nick a 50 kilo Metal Kayak - they must be massive kids - it weighed a ton....but my helper Sir Steve Redgrave did a great job taking it to the shore-line allowing me to step in and sit down...I took the front and Sir Steve, took the back. The Ice Box (which weighed almost as much as me) was placed in the centre. We pushed off and off we went....in a circle! It took me a while to get my bearings but I was with Sir Redgrave so I should be ok shouldn't I? Sir Steve rowed magnificently - shouting out his orders (sorry I mean instructions) - "My Side"...."Your Side" ....."Now"....."Quick"...."now"......I was baffled. What do you do when someone says "Quick"? What did this mean? I asked for specific instructions but the gold olympian as not impressed - my ESP was obviously not in gear this morning.....and another order "Just follow the river"....??? Mmmm DOH - well I thought we were - we were still on the river???
The trip was fantastic though. 10 miles of complete peace and quiet and natural beauty. The river is a slow moving river (which is why I agreed to do it) and is lined with numerous places where you can pull up and take a break and eat a fantastic home made sandwich from Aoili.
We scraped the bottom of the kayak several times; got grounded; and I got whacked out of my seat by low flying Trees which Sir Steve surprisingly did not see. I've learned that the trick is to "read" the river and to look for the currents and ripples - a hot tip from Sir Steve who is also Captain Birdseye...did I not mention that?
The river quietly cut through the countryside - it was full of bends, and little surprises and in parts just behind the tree line you could see beautiful wooden mountain get aways for the more affluent that stood on stilts peering down into the river - each trying to get the best view....with their own private beaches - nice if you can get it I thought...If I had one of those places, I would never go back to the big smoke!
We eventually sighted where we need to get of the river and pulled over and got out - Captain Birdseye's great, great grandfather was waiting for us in the "Shuttle" that was to take us back to our car. The Shuttle was a 1930's Kids School bus - the ones you saw on Freddy Kruger movies only this one was 50 years older and held together with tape. As for the driver - well he was like something out of a Freddie Kruger horror movie frankly, no teeth, greasy wirey gray hair that descended into (shock horror) a dude pony tail....and skin tone that resembled the surface of the moon after several catastrophic impacts from Meteorites the size of the sun.
We stepped cautiously into his "historic" bus and prayed to God we would make it back to the car - in fact his bus would probably simply be too old for a Transport Museum to handle...As we got on he looked down the river for our colleagues, couldn't see them so said "screw it " under his breath and took us.
As we set off more Beach boys screamed through his ancient speakers and off we went..I actually liked it. Clearly the bus was a death trap - but he and the bus were an "institution" - as we got off I popped $5 into his Tip box that was the size of a hot tub and highlighted as well as Vegas in the night sky. Clearly not tipping him would not have been a good idea...He would probably have eaten our car...
On the way back Sir Steve saw an outlet mall so screeched the car across several lanes and dumped the car in the nearest bay and dashed into Nike...and every other shop in the plaza - we both got new gym kits and left for the hotel - to sample some more local wines and for me to update the blog...
Tomorrow we are setting off early for Yosemite - where we will spend the next 2 days before heading down to Santa Barbara for 3 days....
More anon...
