Category: California

The Gutless Wonder Rides Again: Romance, Road Trips & Real Chardonnay Pictures of the Month: Cambria, California

Close-up of twisted trunks and exposed roots of Monterey Pines shaped by coastal winds at Moonstone Beach in Cambria, California
Rooted in Wind: Monterey Pines Shaped by the Coastal Breeze – A tangle of weathered trunks and roots from Monterey Pines near Moonstone Beach in Cambria, California. These coastal trees are shaped by years of persistent wind, creating a natural sculpture garden just steps from the Pacific.

When I first met Queen Anne all those years ago—shortly after she finished planting the redwoods—she worked for Eastern Airlines and wore a t-shirt that read, “Marry me and fly free!” I fell for it. And while the days of jetting around the world on pass-rider status are long gone, her forty-plus years in the travel industry still pay off now and then. She’s on a mailing list reserved for travel professionals, and every so often, it offers what they call a fam trip—a discounted stay meant to help agents get acquainted with resorts. One of our favorite hits each spring: the Cambria Pines Lodge, perched just above our favorite beach town on California’s Central Coast. The moment it shows up in her inbox, we’re packing the car.

Fuel Calculations and the Gutless Wonder

Since it’s a ten-hour drive to the coast, I like to get an early start. That way we can check in, pick up a bottle of local wine, and still make it to dinner without looking like we crawled out of a dust storm. Knowing Anne would grumble from bed to passenger seat, I set the alarm for 5:30. Once she’s strapped in with her seatbelt, I know she won’t wake up again until Barstow. So, under the cover of darkness, we pointed her Corolla west, dodging the Gordian Knot known as Los Angeles.

Although the Turd’s gas mileage isn’t bad for an SUV, we always take the Gutless Wonder for California runs. It’s lighter on fuel and easier on the wallet when you hit those dreaded Golden State pump prices. Typically, I top off the tank before crossing the Colorado, but this time I got cocky. I thought, “Maybe, just maybe, we can make it to Barstow on one tank.” We came up 60 miles short, muscling through headwinds fierce enough to stall a freight train.

That’s how we ended up at the Route 66 café in Ludlow, ordering a decent-enough breakfast while I choked down the $6-a-gallon Chevron fill-up.
We were five minutes early pulling into the lodge’s parking lot and checked into our little cottage for the next two nights. It’s a nicely decorated place with neither a heater nor air conditioning—because in Cambria, you rarely need either. Heat, if you want it, comes from a thermostat-controlled fireplace. Now that’s ambiance. If that flickering blue flame doesn’t scream romance, I don’t know what does.

Our package included a generous room discount, breakfast, and one dinner at the lodge’s restaurant—including a bottle of house wine. We always save that dinner for our second night, once the road buzz wears off and we feel more civilized.

Western Bluebird perched on a weathered wooden picnic table in a grassy park near Moonstone Beach, California
Picnic with a Bluebird: Unexpected Wildlife Along Moonstone Beach – A brilliantly colored Western Bluebird lands on a weathered picnic table in a Cambria park, offering a rare close-up of its vivid plumage in morning light.

Buffet by Name, Rubber by Nature

Over the years, we’ve developed a good working routine for these photo holidays. I get up before the crack of dawn, fumbling around in the dark trying not to wake her—don’t poke a snoring bear—and sneak out to shoot pictures. When I return, she’s up and almost ready to hold court. Then we’re off for breakfast and a bit of sightseeing.

In Romeo and Juliet, Shakespeare wrote:

“What’s in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet.”

If you read between the iambs, this is his way of telling Juliet, “Hey, you’re not a bad-looking chick—for a Montague.”

I think he was wrong, though. Some names carry powerful magic. Take the word buffet. No matter how classy the restaurant tries to be, the moment you slap breakfast in front of buffet, the spell kicks in: the eggs turn to rubber, the potatoes are somehow both overcooked and undercooked, the sausage loses all flavor, and the butter comes in those annoying foil wrappers that belong in a church basement potluck.

Personally, I’d rather skip it and hit a Denny’s.

“But they’re free,” Anne argues.

“They’re awful,” I counter.

“But they’re free.”

Why can’t someone offer an all-you-can-eat ahi tuna Benedict, savory crepes, or chicken and waffles? I’m convinced a dedicated S.E. Reykoff truck delivers these sad trays to every lodge, hotel, and conference center in the country. You could blindfold the cook, and it’d taste the same.

Early morning view looking south over Moonstone Beach in Cambria, California, with waves breaking gently on a rocky shoreline
First Light on Moonstone Beach: South Coast View at Daybreak – From a bluff overlooking Moonstone Beach, the view south captures the soft glow of early light on the Pacific—a tranquil stretch of sand, rock, and rolling surf.

Chardonnay, Terroir, and ChatGPT’s Finest Hour

Longtime readers know there’s a mandatory stop at a vineyard anytime we’re in California. But thanks to the skyrocketing prices—and the new ritual of reservation-only tastings—we’ve had to revise our modus operandi. Gone are the days of casual roadside discoveries. Now we pick one winery per trip, and we make it count.

This time, I wanted the best return on our investment. So I consulted my new favorite research tool, ChatGPT, which is basically Google with an opinion. I asked it to recommend a vineyard known for its Chardonnays. It—she? he? whatever—suggested a spot way out in Edna Valley called Chamisal Vineyards. It’s a small, private operation tucked so deep into the hills it feels like you need a secret handshake to find the gate.

The estate sits on a weird-shaped plot carved into the ancient talus slopes of the nearby mountains. It’s where geology, botany, and Julia Child all come together. They analyzed their soils and systematically planted each grape varietal to match the dirt. That little ol’ winemaker (kids, ask your grandmother) is probably rolling in his grave with envy.

The tasting bar was handled by two charming young women who knew their wines, poured generously, and smiled like they’d just heard your best joke—even if you hadn’t said anything funny yet.

They poured two Chardonnays for us. First up was their 2023 Estate Bottled, young and vibrant enough to sell me on the first sip—clean, balanced, and already showing promise. But then came the 2021 Califa, and that’s when things got serious. Slightly darker in color with a high, elegant note of lemon reminded me of the wines from the Montrachet region in Bordeaux. That same scar-on-the-memory intensity, born from the soil rather than the barrel.

Those Chardonnays didn’t just speak—they sang. Full-bodied, mineral-kissed, and tuned to that elusive oaky/buttery harmony we’ve been hunting for years. The Califa didn’t just show up—it owned the room like a wine snob with Bourdain’s swagger. We signed up for the wine club on the spot. That’s a commitment—and a compliment.

Great blue heron walking through a grassy park near Moonstone Beach in Cambria, California, lit by soft morning sun
The Park Stalker: A Great Blue Heron Strikes a Pose in Cambria – A great blue heron strolls through a grassy park in Cambria, California, pausing with an almost cinematic stillness—as though waiting for the camera to click.

Scallops, Soap Operas, and Foggy Submarine Surveillance

After our tasting, we raced back to Cambria through the weekday maze for a much-needed nap before dinner. That meal? Another small win. Anne went with the prime rib special—along with every other silver-haired guest in the room—while I rolled the dice on scallops. And they nailed it—the chef’s back in my good graces, at least until breakfast.

With the evening still young, we skipped our usual The Big Bang Theory reruns and drove up the coast to San Simeon. I had big plans—long exposures and dramatic shots of the lighthouse beam slicing through the night.
Instead, I discovered three things:

1. You need more than ambition to pull off night photography.
2. It helps if your tripod isn’t locked in the garage.
3. Sometimes, the best view is the one you don’t try to capture.

So we stayed in the car and watched as the last light faded below the horizon. The windows fogged up a little—not from the ocean air, but from… let’s say, warm conversation. Maybe we saw a whale. Maybe a periscope. Perhaps nothing at all.

But it felt like everything.

Danish Waffles, Rainy Goodbyes, and Strategic Sugar Spikes

The following day, we woke to rain. Cambria seemed just as sad as we were to see us go. After another breakfast from Groundhog Day, we packed up and hit the road.

Rather than endure another ten-hour drive home, we decided to make the return trip a two-day trip. We had one more critical stop to make.
In California, two bakeries qualify as mandatory detours anytime we’re within 200 miles. I wrote about the first—Schat’s in Bishop—last year, and its unforgettable Sheepherder’s Bread. The second is Birkholm’s in Solvang, three hours down the coast. They make a pastry straight from the Devil himself: raspberry and cream layered between two sweet, crispy filo crust slabs. I’ve always called them Danish Waffles, but they were labeled French Waffles in the display case. Whatever the nationality, they’re addictive and dangerous. If you eat one in the car, you’ll vacuum up the evidence for weeks.

Being the seasoned pros that we are, we stayed civilized. We sat down, each had one with coffee, and then bought a variety of goodies to test how much would actually make it back to Congress. (Spoiler: not much.) With my blood sugar in orbit, we piled into the car and set out to find a motel before tackling the long, lonely stretch across the Mojave.

Come for the Photos, Stay for the Pastry Talk

Thanks for joining us on this month’s road trip. We hope you had as much fun reading it as we did living it—minus the rubber eggs and $6 gas, of course.

If you’d like to see larger versions of the photos (without crumbs on them), head over to the website: 👉 www.jimwitkowski.com

Do you have thoughts, questions, or a favorite California bakery we haven’t visited yet? We’d love to hear from you. Drop us a comment below—make it quick. The window closes after five days (we must keep the trolls in their caves).

Next month, the Cambria Pines Lodge story gets weird. Let’s say it involves a mushroom garden, a misplaced key, and Queen Anne channeling Agatha Christie.

Keep your humor dry, your spirits high, and your pastries hidden from the Queen.
jw

The Long Way Home: Three Routes, One Corolla, and a Little Adventure Pictures of the Month: California Coastal Towns

“So when the day comes to settle down,
Who’s to blame if you’re not around?
You take the long way home,
Take the long way home.”—Supertramp
Vintage gas station repurposed as Makers Son venue in Los Alamos, California with rustic charm
Exploring Los Alamos: Makers Son Event Space in a Former Gas Station—The Makers Son, a vintage gas station in Los Alamos, California, now serves as a charming venue for weddings and events.

Like every good fairytale, the good times eventually come to an end. Too soon, we found ourselves facing that tedious drive home. But instead of a simple choice, we had three different ways to go—our own version of ‘The Three Little Piggies.’ Only this time, there were three little routes: the quick and efficient one, the scenic and leisurely one, and the ‘I don’t really want to go home’ route.

The Fast Way (All Freeway—All The Time)

The first little piggy is all about speed—no frills, no fuss. It’s I-5 or US 99 south to Bakersfield, then a quick jog over to I-40 through Barstow, cruising along Route 66 nostalgia until Kingman, and finally, the home stretch to Congress. There is not much scenery, but it’ll get you there faster than you can say. ‘Are we there yet?’ It’s our choice for days when the destination matters more than the journey. This is also our go-to route when we’re in a hurry or carrying precious cargo—like a couple of cases of wine. We can make this trip in about 14 hours, provided I make the necessary stops for Queen Anne’s bathroom breaks.

St. Teresa of Avila Church in Bodega, California, iconic landmark photographed by Ansel Adams
St. Teresa of Avila Church in Bodega, California—a spot where Ansel Adams stopped in 1953 when this drive was just a dirt road. Anytime I get within range of an Adams subject, I make it my mission to stop and capture my own take. Queen Anne was more than willing to tag along—Bodega was the filming site for Hitchcock’s The Birds, and she didn’t pass up the chance to channel her inner Tippi Hedren, posing dramatically on the schoolhouse steps nearby.

The Leisurely Way (Santa Paula Route)

The second little piggy prefers a scenic detour. This route winds down California’s Highway 101 through coastal towns and charming spots like San Luis Obispo, Santa Barbara, Santa Paula, and Fillmore. Fillmore holds a particular place for me—it’s where I take a moment to visit my sister’s grave, reminding me that every journey has meaning beyond the miles. And then, with a clearer head, we pick up the drive home.

From there, the road takes us through Los Angeles, where we must be mindful of our timing and stay as far away from downtown as possible. Even in the middle of the night, we expect traffic, but if we time it right—threading the freeways between morning and evening rush hours—we can glide through with minimal stop-and-go. Our preferred route through LA is the I-210, which runs along the base of the San Gabriel Mountains and offers a spectacular view…on the one day a year when they’re actually visible through the smog.”

Pico Wine Tasting and Restaurant in a historic general store building in Los Alamos, California
Pico Wine Shop and Restaurant in Los Alamos: A Culinary Landmark – Pico, a historic general store turned wine-tasting venue and restaurant in Los Alamos, California, offers a high-end culinary experience.

The “I Don’t Really Want to Go Home” Way

And then there’s the third little piggy, the route for when you’re in no rush. This path hugs the coast down the Pacific Coast Highway, SR1, taking the long, winding road past Big Sur, through postcard-perfect towns, and across landscapes that demand photo stops every few miles. It’s the scenic route to end all scenic routes—a journey for those who want to stretch the fairytale a little bit longer.

Once we reach San Luis Obispo, we merge onto the 101 until Ventura. From Oxnard to Santa Monica, we’re back on the PCH with plenty of chances to spot a pod of dolphins, a whale, or seals if we’re lucky and observant. Since we have all the time in the world, we make it a point to stop, walk all the piers, and grab a bite at a couple of seafood shacks along the way.

When it’s time to leave Santa Monica, we jump on I-10 straight into the city’s heart-stopping freeway traffic. But instead of fighting it, we go with the flow—windows down, wind in our faces, and Randy Newman’s ‘I Love L.A.‘ blaring on the stereo. For a moment, we’re part of the LA rhythm, dodging in and out of lanes with all the other dreamers. Eventually, US 60 guides us through Riverside and into the wide-open desert, where the road stretches out, and the only traffic is the tumbleweeds. If done correctly, we measure our progress in miles per week.

A Corolla with Attitude

The real surprise on this trip was discovering our trusty Corolla IM’s hidden ‘Sport’ mode button. I’ve dubbed it the ‘Gutless Wonder,’ but with Sport mode engaged, it gave me more spirit than expected. The button sharpened the transmission shifts and tightened the power steering, making each corner feel just right. For a moment, I almost felt like I was driving an old British sports car—minus the manual gearbox and with the comfort of roll-up windows and a top. And thanks to the IM’s independent rear suspension, it didn’t just handle the winding roads—it made them fun. Who knew our little econobox had it in her?

Rustic white barns in a scenic countryside landscape on the road from Sonoma to Calaveras, California
Historic White Barns: A Serene Stop Near Highway 101 – A pair of white barns along the scenic Sonoma to Calaveras route, capturing the rustic charm of California’s countryside.

Our Extended Fairytale Ending

Since it was still August and we weren’t in a hurry to get back to our cottage at the base of the Weaver Mountains, we opted for the middle route with a twist: four days, with overnight stops in places we’d never explored. Our usual all-day ‘Bataan March’ became a leisurely four-day journey of discovery, and—true to form—Anne and I conveniently planned our stops around California’s Central Coast wine regions. Now, we have at least four new destinations for future trips.

Each route home has its own quirks and charms, but this time, taking the scenic way back reminded me that the journey can be as memorable as the destination. Sometimes, the right choice isn’t the fastest or most convenient—it’s the one that lets you hold on to the experience just a little longer.

Till next time, keep your spirits high and your humor dry.
jw

BTW, 2024 Wall Calendar Orders are Open!

It’s that time of year again—calendar season! If you’d like to grab one of my personal wall calendars for 2024, now’s the time to let me know. The calendars are 8.5 x 10 inches, spiral-bound, and printed on high-quality card stock, perfect for showcasing a year’s worth of my favorite shots.

A heads-up on pricing: VistaPrint’s prices are always high initially, but they usually offer great discounts as the holidays approach. Last year, they dropped to around $11 plus shipping after Thanksgiving, but they could be as high as $20 if I go by their price list today. Whatever my printing and shipping costs are, that’s what I charge—no markup.

If you’re interested, please let me know by November 15. That way, I can organize everything, and we can take advantage of post-Thanksgiving sales! Delivery is usually at the beginning of December, so they make great stocking stuffers.

Where the Fog Refused to Roll: A Desert Rat’s Tale at Point Reyes Pictures of the Month - Point Reyes, California

White historical building with cupola at Pierce Point Ranch, Point Reyes, California
A Glimpse into History: The Schoolhouse at Point Reyes – A historical building at Pierce Point Ranch, Point Reyes, featuring a cupola that suggests it may have served as a schoolhouse in its heyday.

You might wonder why Queen Anne and I chose Point Reyes as our summer escape from the desert. The answer is simple: wasn’t it Mark Twain who famously quipped, “The coldest winter I ever spent was a summer in San Francisco?” Couple that with data I found from the Point Reyes lighthouse, which proudly claims to be the “foggiest and windiest place on the California coast,” and you’ve got a lure strong enough to reel in two desert rats like us faster than a piece of cheddar in a spring-trap.

Besides, I watched a Back Roads West YouTube video by Cliff and Ilene Bandringa last year that made Point Reyes look like a cool, misty oasis—a refreshing break from the sweltering Arizona sun. What could go wrong if we spent a week soaking in Frisco’s damp air without shelling out for those $300-a-night hotel rooms?

So, when the summer heat finally got to us, we stuffed Anne’s shoes, her mountain of books, and just enough room for my camera gear into her gutless little Corolla. Sure, it couldn’t pass a tumbleweed on the open highway, but with 35 miles to the gallon, who’s complaining? After all, we needed to save money for wine. And so, west we went, dreams of cool fog dancing in our heads.

White Dairy Buildings with Monterey Cypress at Pierce Point Ranch
A Quiet Moment: White Barns and Monterey Cypress at Pierce Point Ranch – Two white dairy buildings at Pierce Point Ranch, framed by the distinctive Monterey Cypress trees. A testament to the historical dairy farming era of Point Reyes.

Geology of Point Reyes

If you look at a map, Point Reyes juts out into the Pacific like an island tethered to the California coast—an island at dock. Geologically speaking, it nearly is an island, sitting on its own chunk of land on the Pacific Plate. The San Andreas Fault runs through Tomales Bay, separating Point Reyes from the mainland. It’s as if the Pacific and North American plates decided to part ways, leaving Point Reyes awkwardly perched on the edge.

The landscape here is a study in contrasts. The peninsula’s eastern side gently slopes up from the coast, eventually rising to a broad plateau that stretches across the western half. This plateau is a patchwork of windswept grasslands dotted with clusters of Monterey Cypres trees that stand out—gnarled, twisted, and pruned by the persistent winds that whip across the plateau. They seem to lean into the wind, shaped by years of relentless gusts that have carved their forms into something resilient and hauntingly beautiful. As you journey westward, the land meets the ocean in a dramatic drop-off, with cliffs that plunge into the Pacific, as though the land falls away into the sea.

Historically, the cool coastal climate and fertile soils made this plateau an ideal spot for dairy farming. In the late 1800s, families like the Pierce and McClure clans established sprawling dairy farms here. However, as with many land use stories, controversy followed. Over time, concerns about environmental degradation grew as the cattle impacted the fragile coastal ecosystem.

Eventually, the tide turned, and the land began to be reclaimed. Today, Point Reyes is home to a thriving Tule elk population, roaming freely across what was once pasture. The elk symbolizes the land’s restoration, while the weathered barns and ranch buildings, now abandoned, stand as silent reminders of a different era. But it wasn’t just the history that called me—the photos first made me drool.

Close-up of weathered upper windows on a rustic building at Pierce Point Ranch, Point Reyes, California
Weathered Wood and Windows: A Closer Look at Point Reyes’ Ranch Buildings – A close-up of the weathered wood and upper windows on an auxiliary building at Pierce Point Ranch showcasing the rustic charm and history of Point Reyes.

Pierce Point Dairy

As soon as I saw those weathered barns and fog-cloaked pastures, I could visualize myself working in the damp, misty air, capturing the kind of light Andrew Wyeth made famous in his iconic rural scenes of Maine. Photographing these barns and windswept trees with that soft, ethereal light seemed like the perfect opportunity to channel Wyeth’s muted tones and quiet beauty—not on canvas but through the lens.

Pierce Point Ranch is one of the oldest and most significant dairy farms on Point Reyes. Its weathered white barns are a testament to California’s agricultural past. Established by the Pierce family in the 1850s, the ranch was part of the Point Reyes dairy boom, when the cool coastal climate made this land perfect for dairy farming.

At its height, the ranch produced butter and cheese for San Francisco and beyond, shaping the region’s early economy. The Pierce family and others carved out a life here, managing their cattle amid some of California’s most stunning—yet harsh—landscapes.

But as time passed, so did the viability of dairy farming. Environmental concerns over the cattle’s impact on the land eventually led to the phasing out of ranching operations. Today, Pierce Point Ranch is preserved as part of Point Reyes National Seashore, a symbol of the area’s agricultural heritage. The ranch buildings remain their whitewashed walls standing in quiet contrast to the now-peaceful surroundings, save for the occasional Tule elk wandering nearby.

However, getting to the ranch is an adventure in itself. The road leading to Pierce Point is paved with just enough potholes to make you consider airing down the tires—something I usually reserve for off-roading with the Turd. It felt like I was off-roading on asphalt! As I carefully navigated each crater, I couldn’t help but think how this rugged drive suited the history of the place, where dairy farmers once worked the land in equally challenging conditions.

Close-up of a weathered door with a padlock, showing the rustic texture of a building at Pierce Point Ranch, Point Reyes, California
Rustic Charm in the Details: The Door of a Ranch Building at Pierce Point – A close-up of a weathered door with a padlock at Pierce Point Ranch, highlighting the rustic textures and historical wear of this Point Reyes building.

The Photographs

When we arrived at Pierce Point Ranch, I felt like I’d brought the brutally clear desert air. Not a single trace of fog was in sight. Standing in the crystal-clear air, we could see the fog banks hovering about three miles offshore as if they were paranoid of catching Valley Fever, our local desert respiratory disease unique to arid climates.

I envisioned working in the soft, diffused light made famous by Andrew Wyeth, but the fog had other ideas. It stayed away as if allergic to my presence. Faced with the harsh reality of bright sunlight and whitewashed buildings, I figured if I couldn’t be Wyeth, I’d channel my inner Pete Turner instead—leaning into the bright colors and sharp edges, capturing the contrast and crispness of the scene.

The ranch sprawled around me like a Hollywood set constructed by Cecil B. DeMille as my personal photography playground. I wandered around merrily, snapping away. The clear skies may not have given me the moody atmosphere I’d hoped for, but they offered a different kind of beauty—a bold, vibrant one. I was as happy as a kid at a drugstore soda fountain with a twenty-dollar bill to spend.

Wrap-up

Now, before we wrap things up, I’ve got to share a story my mother used to tell us about growing up on a farm in Kentucky. Believe it or not, one of her favorite things was feeling chicken and cow manure squishing between her toes. Aren’t you glad I left that part out of my story?

Thanks for coming along on our journey to Pierce Point Ranch—I hope you enjoyed the show! My website has larger versions of these photos [jw link]. They will remain online for three months before they are replaced or removed. Feel free to dive in and explore the details.

I’d love to hear from you! Do you have any thoughts about the photos, the story, or maybe some farm experiences of your own? Drop a comment—we enjoy hearing your stories and feedback. Be sure to return next month for our journey home—it’s bound to be just as exciting, if not a bit cleaner.

Keep your milk fresh and your cheddar sharp.
jw

BTW: As we began our journey south on the 101 early Sunday morning, the hilltops were shrouded in low clouds, and just before we crossed the San Mateo Bridge, I had to turn the windshield wipers on. The fog was that dense. I guess I finally got my foggy California experience after all. You bastards!