Here and There

Tuesday, September 15, 2015

Port Costa

Looking back as we walked the ridge to Port Costa.
We took the most random, rewarding, strange hike on Saturday.  I have always been slightly intrigued by the town of Crockett near the Carquinez Bridge and this hike has you park at a trailhead/harbor in Crockett, walk just about a mile and a half along the strait full of Eucalyptus groves, golden hills and bridges, trains and boats and into the teeny tiny town of Port Costa.  You get to hike down into the town, and feel like you arrived there from far off and another time.  It was a little hot, and the kids were complain-y at first, but we got into a groove.

When we walked in we saw unique houses and gardens, some were junky, some were pristine.  You could tell the people who live here are ALL ABOUT IT.  We made our way down the main street till we came to the Warehouse Cafe, which was insane.  Full of trinkets and junk and hanging velvet curtains, old pieces of a theater, even broken revolving doors, photographs and newspaper bits, old woodwork, and even a taxidermy polar bear shot in 1965.  Wild.  We were spooked and tickled the whole time we were there.  It kind of was like The Old Spaghetti Factory mixed with Playland by the Sea...on crack.  Apparently if you go on a Sunday it's a big biker hang out.  But when we were there on Saturday it was pretty quiet.  I have to say, I was absolutely smitten with the place and it really grabbed my imagination.  I just loved it.  And the brown hills with no trees on the way back is one of my favorite landscapes.  Period.  I will go so far to say it is a spiritual landscape for me.

The walk back to Crockett was inland, steep brown hills all that way there were old falling down power line poles.  Creepy and cool.
Port Costa Wishing Tree.  Both girls wished to own farm animals.
Old photographs at the Bull Valley Roadhouse.  It looked amazing in here, but wasn't open yet for the day and Peter and I vow to go back.
Abalone hanging in the window at Bull Valley Roadhouse.
Down this alley was a printer who made all sorts of "naughty" old fashioned posters and postcards.  They were very hip.


Huge dried flower garlands were all over.
Old door at the Burlington.

Formally a Bordello, The Burlington Hotel also has a little bakery where we got some Port Costa honey, bottled by Earl, who keeps bees in the hills nearby and pound cake.
Inside the little shop in the hotel's building.  Like a perfect old fashioned kitchen.

The Warehouse Cafe built in 1879 as a grain warehouse when Port Costa was a ferry landing for the transcontinental railroad.  In 1930, a bridge was built in Martinez and Port Costa fell off the map.  It does feel frozen in time.

"Uh..."

September Begins

Reading in the afternoon is a good leftover from Sabbatical.
Patting her back on the first day of school.

And now it all is poised to turn again, right?  A new season is on the doorstep, and you mostly see it shining under the door in the morning and the evening.  And that's how it always is when the season changes, in those moments when the sun is rising or setting, something gets amplified and the dustiness or the crispness or the brightness shows more truly and you know what's coming.