I’ve packed a lot into this past week of Mendocino County travels.
Here are a few of my top picks (and a peeves too, for good measure):

Shambhala Ranch
As the saying goes, “it’s not the destination but the journey that matters,” so too with Shambhala Ranch, named for the owners’ dual vision of heaven on earth. Getting to this remote spot is a prerequisite, a requirement for the abundance of peaceful, serene beauty that could only be had at such lengths from civilization. I rounded the bald, golden mounds of soil and sandstone, the fringes of evergreens, passing Orr Hot Springs and several fluttering quail to find the carved wooden sign and the welcoming oak tree at Shambhala’s entrance. Tara was in her garden as I pulled up, and before I could get my bearings I was eating tomatoes from her carefully-pruned plants. Inside, an eclectic collection of world masks and Tibetan thangkas hung around the redwood structure, made from wood felled on the land. We walked to the private beach and waterfall at Big River, ate apples and figs from her orchard, and found Jupiter and Cassiopeia even in the night light of the full moon. Seventeen years ago Tara told her friends about her dream to open a retreat center, and they gave her the digits of a friend from whom they’d heard the same vision. A year and a half later they were married and looking for land. And when they found this place they knew it was their Shambhala. Later, when they contracted an archaeoligcal inspection, they found areas where 2000 years of native American rituals had been taking place. Apparently, they weren’t the only ones who felt this place had a certain spiritual je ne sais quoi. Here I dine with the person who cooked my food and the gardener who grew it. I gaze over a pond, hoping to see the otters play. It is a grand place for a total retreat, where 40 acres of preserved redwoods shelter the stumps from trees floated downstream for timber 100 years ago. And sleeping in a bed where there is no electric current is a deeper, gentler nights rest. The place is a living home, with ample space for many kinds of gatherings, from a shrine-like outdoor sleeping quarters to an indoor dance studio, to a surround sound porch. There aren’t many frills, and interaction with others staying there is unavoidable, unless you are the only ones staying, which could be the case on a mid-week off-season night. Stay for at least 3 days, hike the property, bathe in the river and get back in touch with nature, and yourself.

Mendocino Hotel
A place as old as this should have gone through many incarnations, (and behind the scenes, it has), but the look and feel of the late-1800’s inn and saloon is as intact as an old Western film. I stepped under the yellow clapboard façade and entered like I myself was a logger of old, searching in the dim lights and musty aroma for a bottle of whiskey. Instead, I found a cheery Deena behind the beveled-glass reception desk, and a blush-colored canopy bed in my room facing the ocean. The wall paper, light fixtures, bath tub and armoire all echo of days gone by, the very days that have gone by in this seaside village. It is lovely to experience not only a far-off place, but also times gone by. Walking to shops and restaurants is a breeze since “the hotel,” as it is called around town, is the central landmark. And it is where locals come to grub too; when I searched for Internet in the woodsy-colored lobby I chanced upon several bubbly Mendo residents, taking their supper in one of the wing-backed, window-side chairs. Calling down to the desk for help with bathtub plugging and directions might require a few tries, but service is friendly. I recommend room 24, not a suite, but equipped with the best view I’ve yet seen in this town, and a private, footed bathtub.

Café Beaujolais and the Brickery
Once upon a time I was a flower girl at a wedding here in Mendocino, frolicking in my purple rose-covered dress and staying in a big white house with my mother. On mornings we went down to the seaside to harvest kelp bulbs and fill the bathtub with them as props for bath time. When we got hungry, we walked to Café Beaujolais for fresh squeezed orange juice and “morning food,” a term they practically coined. Now, on my return, they are a lunch and dinner place, with only a Morning Food cookbook at the hostess stand as a reminder of the breakfasts of yore. Now, you pop your head into the window at the Brickery, across the garden, for morning loaves of bread and crispy-crusted bagels. Inside the restaurant is food, real food. Eggs Benedict with authentic Mornay sauce smothered over Red Seal Rye, straight from the Brickery. Vegan butternut squash risotto laced with locally foraged mushrooms and kale, so tasty the v-word need not be mentioned. Wine pairings from Nelson Family and Estrelina were especially good, and I recommend you put your trust in chef/owner David’s hands with your vino choices. The annex, an elevated, glass-enclosed dining room, feels as though it were made for proposals, or to give a new shine to every day romance. Fragrant climbing roses and veils of maroon maple and lacy juniper look as though they are about to envelope the room with jungle-like lushness and sweet perfume. Cashew poppy seed pie crusts and homemade ice cream seal the deal for dessert, giving David yet another opportunity to prove his prowess with pairing; there are many good dessert wines on the menu. Follow the garden path to this special café, maybe not to gather kelp for your bath, but certainly to make your own memories.

Mendocino Historic Review Board
I am getting conflicting information here. On the one hand, Mendocino claims to be the greenest county. On the other, a place of historic preservation and small town charm. And why these ideas can’t co-exist is, as my mother would say, “beyond me.” As I trapse around the short blocks of Mendocino proper, I see no solar panels. When I inquire at the Mendocino Garden Store which bears a large Zap Car sign, they say they are no longer allowed to rent electric vehicles. And why is all this? The Zap Rental looked like an ugly used-car dealership; solar panels take away from the original structures and make the skyline unsightly. That is, according to the Mendo Historic Review Board. Apparently it is due to strict history-maintaining ordinances, which seem to do more harm than good to a town caught in the middle of global climate changes. All over town I hear whispers of the whale migration patterns shifting, of wicked weather and of varying climate, yet the very system set up to preserve the town is a part of what makes it more vulnerable, and less responsible. I appreciate the buildings remaining intact, and also the history of the village, but just like anything, updating as we get new information is critical to survival (and also the definition of sanity — insanity being doing the same thing repeatedly and expecting different results). My sincere hope is that this review board gets with the picture, so we can come back and be taking pictures here for generations to come.