Never underestimate the effect of hot water on the body and soul. After a few panting breaths, I exhaled deeply, unclenched my knees, and let myself float in the salty-soft water. The silence and intense heat forced my attention inward. Drip-drop, drip-drop—that’s all I heard. At last! my mind had stopped chattering.

Inside a Japanese-style redwood bathhouse beside a gurgling creek, the baths are laid out in a series of flumes, three long, narrow tubs with waters ranging from 101ºF to 109ºF. The flowing water reeks of minerals, mostly salt and sulfur, but there’s lithium in it too—some say that’s why everyone at Wilbur looks so blissed-out and mellow. When sunlight hits the water, it glows green. (Fear not: the tubs are frequently drained and scrubbed with a German-like fetishism for cleanliness.)

Wilbur is no skirt-and-sweater spa, but neither is it the stomping ground of drum-beating hippies. Though the baths are clothing-optional, modesty prevails; clothing is required elsewhere. And people wouldn’t dare even kiss in the tubs. This ain’t Harbin. There are no en-suite bathrooms, nor an on-site restaurant. Guests shower outdoors in the bathhouse, and feed themselves from a giant communal kitchen, the center of the inn’s social scene.

In the daytime, guests wander off on hikes and bike rides of the surrounding 1800-acre nature preserve, scoping out hilltop vistas and 19th-century silver mines. Others silently vanish into yoga postures or disappear with a book or journal. But come evening everyone reappears, gathering in the kitchen to prepare their dinners, chopping veggies on a giant butcher-block island before an 18-burner commercial stove.

I made fast friends with two hardcore backgammon players while I prepped a pork loin. As it roasted, we threw dice in the living room, an enormous space with sofas and tables, board games and billiards, and musical instruments tucked in the corner. After losing twice, I took solace in a tattered copy of Bach’s Invention No. 1 that I found in the piano bench, a piece I hadn’t touched in 20 years. Nobody seemed to care when I played a sour note.

Our vaguely Victorian-looking room inside the 1915 inn building had two comfy beds, a wicker chaise lounger, oak dresser, and white-porcelain washbasin with a cold-water tap. (We could have chosen a less-expensive dorm room, but I came with a friend and we wanted privacy. Had I come alone, I’d have chosen one of the tiny single rooms, charming for their sloping eaves and rough-hewn wood paneling.) The shared bathrooms were spotless. Electricity at Wilbur is solar-powered—don’t count on charging any battery-powered devices unless you bring a solar charger—and there’s no internet connection. The only communications device is a single outdoor pay phone in a cedar-sided booth, which I never once used.

Quiet is the order of the day—and it is an order. Conversation isn’t allowed outdoors in the bathhouse (but you can chat on the pool deck) or indoors in the inn’s library. Though I twice got (politely) shushed during my visit for laughing in the library, I was grateful for the mandate of silence. Really, how often do you get to travel beyond cell-phone range, with neither television nor traffic interrupting the quiet? After two days, nature sounded downright loud—the cawing of crows, the roaring of wind through pine boughs, the chirping of songbirds hiding in the oaks. It took nearly two days for me to slow down, escape the frenzied pace of the city, but I managed to do it: I actually caught myself whispering as I inquired about extending my stay another night.

IF YOU GO: In summer, the weather is blazingly hot; rooms have no a/c, only fans. If heat bothers you, go soon or wait till fall. Pack a towel, slippers, and down pillow if you dislike foam. The inn sells chocolate, tea and snacks, but not much else. Bring everything from coffee and flour, to meat and butter. Williams, the closest town, is 40 minutes away. For a (far) better selection, buy groceries at home. It’s okay to bring wine to Wilbur. The kitchen stocks salt and pepper and basic equipment. There are ovens, but no broiler. The knives are lousy. Bring any special equipment or unusual baking dishes you might need. If you’re going to bake or roast, I’d also suggest an oven or meat thermometer. When in doubt about what foods to bring, remember, you can never go wrong with a nice dish of pasta.

In the two decades I’ve lived in SF, I’d never made the trip to Angel Island, foolishly reserving it for a camping trip that never seemed to materialize. On a recent Saturday, I gave up the ghost when a botanist friend called and invited me on a wildflower walk of the island.

We meet up at the Ferry Building, where we fill our backpacks with the season’s first ruby-red strawberries, a crusty-loaf of pain de campagne, and a hunk of tangy-delicious goat cheese sold by a cranky artisinal farmer. Ditching the chaos of the market, espresso in hand, we amble up the wide Embarcadero promenade, alongside tourists, joggers and mamas with strollers, to Pier 41, where braying sea lions and the smell of caramel corn permeate the salt air.

The city never looks as good as it does from the water, and today is no exception. The wind has blown away any trace of fog; the breeze is fresh, the spring sun warm. From the top deck of the ferry, the Bay Bridge grows longer and longer, while the downtown skyline shrinks beneath a bluebird sky. Gulls squawk overhead as we chug past Alcatraz, where hundreds of ink-black cormorants bob and dip in the water.

What you see is what you get at Ayala Cove, the port of Angel Island—grassy lawns, picnic tables, and barbecue grills surround a handful of historic buildings. Though it’s a scenic spot for a family gathering, for my $14 ferry ticket, I’m more interested in scoping out the island’s topography than hanging around screaming kids. And we’ve got just four hours to explore before the last ferry leaves.

After a quick loop through the visitors center, we hit the Sunset Trail toward the top of Mt Livermore, the island’s 780ft-high peak. The flora changes fast as we ascend the switchbacks through lush oak woodlands. An owl hoots unseen in the woods above us—an owl! Here we are, smack in the middle of America’s fifth-largest metropolitan area, and a raptor is hooting overhead. Wow.

My formerly quiet botanist friend grows chatty after a toke on his pipe, and starts rattling off which trailside plants are native and which aren’t. We stand in a field of forget-me-nots (non-native) as he pops a handful of European miner’s lettuce into his mouth. We all follow suit and agree: the younger lettuce is tastier, less bitter. Maidenhair ferns (native) cling to rocks where the mosses have just dried, taking with them the last vestiges of winter’s deep green.

The trail tops out on a sunny promontory, and I stand awe-struck at the postcard-perfect views of the Golden Gate and the bay’s vast open waters. My guide meanwhile points to the ground, where maraca-like seed pods of North African rattlesnake grass jangle in the breeze. We pick a handful of coastal sage, rub the silver leaves, and sniff. The smell reminds me of a lemon-verbena-sage tea I once tasted in Paris.

San Francisco Bay looks spectacular from atop Angel Island on a clear day. You can actually see the bay’s treacherous currents whooshing out to sea; suddenly I understand why prisoners couldn’t escape from Alcatraz. Marin’s peninsulas jut like bony fingers into the bay’s blue waters. A regatta of sailboats glides past below us. I watch them till vertigo sets in, forcing my attention back to my feet, where stalks of sticky monkey flower peek through the grass.

I’d always wanted to see the Christmas tree at the top of Angel Island. Guess what? There is no tree, just seven strings of high-wattage lights stretching from atop a flagpole to the ground, marking Mt Livermore’s summit. In December, when spotted from San Francisco, the lone ‘tree’ looks stunning, but now that I see it up close, the ugly concrete and electrical wiring is a disappointment. No matter. We’ve no time to linger: the ferry leaves in an hour. We scurry down the mountain’s saddles, along the North Ridge Trail and arrive just in time to hear the all-aboard call. We splurge on a round of Budweisers from the ferry’s grungy bar, and as the boat chugs out of port, we lean over the railing of the top deck and raise a toast to our perfect day trip.

If you’re considering going to Angel Island this weekend, make the trip on Sunday. Saturday’s weather forecast calls for wind. Pack layers: the weather changes fast. To avoid the crowds, hike up the Sunset Trail and down the North Ridge Trail; most people do the opposite. If you prefer not to hike, consider renting bicycles or taking a tram tour. Campsites book well in advance on weekends; alas, no fires allowed. (Better to book Kirby Cove instead.)

MARK YOUR CALENDAR:
The annual Maker Faire, that fabulous two-day-long, family-friendly festival of inventors, hobbyists, and crafts-makers takes place on May 3 & 4. Trust me, it’s a blast.

Tucked in a sylvan dell abutting Bolinas Lagoon, a mere 30 minutes from the Golden Gate, the ranch protects a stand of old-growth redwoods that the birds colonize each spring. The scene is mesmerizing. Fog evanesces and twirls through the branches. Chirping choruses echo through the canyon. The smell of salt air and bay-laurel perfumes the breeze.

Easy hiking trails wend up forested hillsides to viewing platforms at eye level with the birds. Binoculars on tripods give you a close-up look, while naturalists provide backstory. The heronry is particularly exciting at low tide, when the lagoon’s mudflats are exposed. The giant birds swoop back and forth between the treetops and the flats to carry food to the chicks, and as they alight at their nests, the chicks stretch their long necks skyward, mouths open wide—a thrilling sight.

For the optimal experience, plan to picnic on the sun-dappled lawns beneath the towering trees. And leave time to explore the small museum, which chronicles area history and ecology, as well as how the ranch helped save West Marin from development. The ranch is open only on weekends and holidays, or by appointment, through July 13. Suggested donation $10.

The destination is unimportant. You could drive any road in the state, and it would be beautiful—even I-5 looks good. But for maximum aesthetics, find winding country roads and take your time. Surrender results and enjoy the journey. The following trips are laid out in order of length, with the shortest one first.

Road Trip #1: Coastal Overlooks
You can’t beat the San Mateo Coast for verdant springtime splendor—and you can do it in an afternoon. Rolling hills rise from the craggy coast, covered with different species of grass that create a patchwork of subtly different hues. Chase the margin of green along the old stagecoach route, Stage Rd, from San Gregorio to Pescadero. Then continue south along Cloverdale Rd, past picturesque horse farms lined with white split-rail fences. At Gazos Creek Rd, turn right to Hwy 1 north.
Travel time from SF: 60 minutes to San Gregorio, via I-280 south to Hwy 1 south in Pacifica.
What to See: The Pigeon Point Lighthouse, on your return trip north up Hwy 1.
Where to Eat: Duarte’s Tavern, a country-Americana roadhouse in Pescadero.
Where to Pack a Picnic: The San Gregorio Store, a frozen-in-time 19th-century general store.

Road Trip #2: Redwood Forests and Coastal Vistas
Like a plein-air painting come to life, the electric-green hills of West County Sonoma are dotted with goats and cows grazing the knee-high grass. Bring your watercolors. Wind your way northward, via Hwy 1 past Point Reyes and Tomales Bay, en route to Occidental, that tiny storybook village tucked off the main drag. After exploring the town, head west along Coleman Valley Rd to the Grove of the Old Trees, a 28-acre stand of towering old-growth redwoods. Wow at the mighty giants, then continue west atop thousand-foot-high ridgelines, with wide-open vistas of the glittering blue Pacific. End at Bodega Bay.
Travel time from SF: 1 hour, 45 minutes to Occidental, via Hwy 1 to Valley Ford-Freestone Rd.
What to see: Renga Arts, a super-cool gallery of reclaimed and recycled goods transformed into affordable art.
Where to eat: Seaweed Cafe, an outpost of the Slow Food movement, where every ingredient originates from within 30 miles of the restaurant.
Where to pack a picnic: In Point Reyes Station, stop at Cowgirl Creamery and Tomales Bay Foods to pick up succulent cheeses and unusual sandwiches. In Occidental, Howard’s Station Cafe makes a mean BLT; the nearby Bohemian Market has a good deli counter.

Road Trip #3: Wine and Wildflowers
It ain’t easy to reach the Anderson Valley—’the other wine country’— but it’s worth every twisting turn through oak-studded hills surrounding Hwy 128 to sample some of Northern California’s best pinots and Alsatian varietals. Rugged mountains surround the 25-mile-long valley, which stretches along the winding Navarro River toward Mendocino. The unpretentious wineries here are the polar opposite of foufou Napa’s, and feel like what they actually are: farms. Once you’ve purpled your teeth, picnic by the river at Navarro River Redwoods State Park. Then head back to bucolic Boonville and ascend the mountains, via Hwy 253, toward Ukiah and Hwy 101. As your elevation changes, so will the vegetation: orange California poppies dominate, but spikes of purple lupine should be rising through the grass any day now.
Travel time from SF: 2.5 hours to Boonville, via Hwys 101 and 128. You may want to stay overnight for this one.
What to see: The Philo Apple Farm, an old-fashioned organic farmstand that makes its own lip-smacking cider and homemade preserves and chutneys.
Where to eat or pack a picnic: The Boonville General Store uses all-organic ingredients in its fantastic sandwiches and pizzas.

Road Trip #4: Rock Spires and Rolling Hills
You’d never guess you were in Northern California while at Pinnacles National Monument. Craggy rock formations rise from a lunar-like landscape, the remnants of an ancient volcano, that looks uncannily like the Desert Southwest. You can access the monument from Hwy 101, but instead take gorgeous rural Hwy 25. Passing smack dab along the San Andreas rift zone, the road winds through lush valleys abutting the Gabilan Range and its 3000ft-high peaks. Because spring came two weeks early this year, the wildflowers are popping like mad.
Travel time from SF: 2.5 hours. Head to Hollister. Get an early start to avoid San Jose traffic.
What to see: The monument. Budget two hours to hike.
Where to Eat: El Grullense No 3, in Hollister, makes stellar tacos, just like you find in Mexico.
Where to Pack a Picnic: Main Street Bistro, also in Hollister, does good sandwiches.

To celebrate the early arrival of spring, take a Sunday-afternoon hike (or mountain-bike ride) in the Marin Headlands. Because the mixed-use trails through the coastal prairie are wide and well graded, they’re ideal for a family walk. And on some of them, you can bring leashed dogs; download the trail map to see where.

Flower hounds: Check the wildflower bloom schedule. The poppies won’t peak for a few more weeks, but you’ll find plenty to fawn over now.

My two favorite walks follow, below. Download the trail map for a visual. And as you explore, remember that in the 1950s, this land was slated for development into ‘Marincello,’ a town of 25,000, with a mile-long mall at its center. Thank God for the Trust for Public Land; if you’re flush, send ‘em a check.

1.) Tennessee Valley. The two-mile-long valley follows a seasonal creek, bordered by century-old fragrant eucalyptus trees. But the money shots sprawl up high in the rolling hills. Take the Coastal Trail, where you can peer down the bluffs to Pirates Cove and watch the crashing surf pound the jagged cliffs. Along the way, you’ll spot bright-orange California poppies, the season’s first purple lupine, and tiny Douglas irises. Loop back along the ridgelines via the Coastal Fire Rd and Fox Trail, which drops out near to the trailhead. No dogs are allowed on the valley floor; instead follow signs up the Miwok Trail, then head over to the Coastal Trail—but you can’t make a loop with a dog.
Park at the Tennessee Valley trailhead, proceed a half mile to the Fox Trail, and loop along the ridgelines toward the water. Alternatively walk along the valley floor a mile toward the beach, then zip straight up the Coastal Trail. To get to the valley, take the Golden Gate Bridge and follow Hwy 101 to the Stinson Beach/Hwy 1 turnoff. Cross under the freeway. Right after the road becomes two lanes, at the hard-right curve, look for the signed turnoff to the left. If you hit the major intersection where Hwy 1 turns left at the traffic light, you’ve gone too far.

2.) Gerbode Valley. Avoid heavy weekend traffic by heading to the less-visited Gerbode Valley, the next dale south of Tennessee Valley. Like its neighbor, it’s bisected by a meandering creek, but don’t linger low: the point it to get up high. The fennel isn’t yet fragrant, but you catch whiffs of summer as you work your way toward the hilltops. Here and there little bunches of poppies and irises peek through the shimmering grass. Gorgeous. You could take the Bobcat Trail east, but I prefer the Miwok Trail, which runs north. Once up high along the Miwok, you’ll have drop-dead views of the city rising between the cleavages of the hills (see the above photo). To the west, the vast blue Pacific sprawls toward the horizon. If you’re ambitious, take the Wolf Ridge Trail (hikers only) for panoramic vistas up and down the coast. Good news for Fido: on-leash dogs are allowed on the Miwok trail.
By Muni: Take Bus 76 (Sundays only). By car: Take the Golden Gate Bridge northbound to the first exit, Alexander Ave. Take the second left, immediately after the hairpin turn leading beneath the freeway. Go through the one-way tunnel with the five-minute light, and continue down Bunker Rd about two miles to just before the lagoon. Park on the north side of Bunker Rd in Rodeo Valley, at the little parking area by the whitewashed clapboard buildings.

The hills up and down California are greening: March, the emerald month, is around the corner. It’s time to start thinking about short hops to Sonoma—before the tourists arrive. Though current room rates are a steal, you don’t have to stay overnight. It’s only 45 minutes from the city. Go for the day. (But not this weekend: plan San Francisco rainy-day activities instead.)

Build your afternoon road trip around a good meal. You can leave at noon, drive through sublime electric-green landscapes, maybe hit a winery, then kick back over an early dinner and be home in time to catch a movie. Trust me: you’ll feel like you’ve had a mini-vacation. Here’s my short list of favorite dining rooms, along with some good cheap eats for budgeteers.

Tops on every foodie’s list is dinner at Cafe La Haye ($$$), where the hearty cooking has marvelous depth of flavor. Standouts include a succulently sweet house-smoked trout with red-onion relish; pork ‘two ways’ (order the pork medium; the kitchen undercooks it otherwise); and hanger steak with potato-bacon pie. A new chef took the helm last year, and attention to detail is sometimes lacking—to wit, an impotent, wilted-lettuce garnish served with the trout—but the important elements are rock solid. The room is tiny—only 35 seats—with an open-truss ceiling, corrugated metal roof, and cool contemporary art adoring the walls. Reservations essential. No lunch.

When I want a guaranteed-festive evening, I head to the girl & the fig. The earthy flavors of southern French cooking inform the menu, which runs the gamut from steamed mussels with matchstick fries (a house specialty), and a rich Provençale fish stew, redolent with saffron and fennel; to pan-roasted chicken, and a deliciously simple grilled flat-iron steak-frites. Burnt-orange walls and polished woodwork cast a warm glow to the big, always-busy dining room, but the cartoon paintings of Rubenesque women are disturbing; better to sit outside on the expansive patio under strings of colored lights and pretend you’re in Provence. Reservations essential.

The latest addition to the town’s high-end-dining scene, El Dorado Kitchen ($$$–$$$$) is Sonoma’s new face of chic, with a sexy, monochromatic dining room: wear denim and cashmere and blend right in. Exec chef Ryan Fancher hails from the French Laundry, evident in his elegant, sure-handed use of traditional elements with contemporary ingredients, as in the housemade tortellini with moscarpone, duck confit, and parsley salad. Some dishes disappoint for their lack of depth (especially the pork osso bucco), but El Dorado is an important new stop on the culinary circuit, totally worth checking out. If it’s warm enough, sit outside in the big courtyard for maximum romance. Reservations essential.

Modern Japanese and sushi are the focus at Shiso ($$). It looks strangely like a diner, with booths lining the walls, but no diner I know has such a fabulous paint job. The chef-owner is passionate about raw fish, but does great things with hot food too, particularly the wok-tossed mussels and braised ribs with butternut squash and shiso.

For big plates of pasta, rotisseried chicken, and veal parmesan, head to Della Santina’s ($$). Nothing ever changes—the ’specials’ have been the same for years—but it’s consistently good (if not great), and the flower-lined brick patio is perfect for date night on a warm evening.

Sonoma Valley Restaurants: Near the Wineries

My favorite up-valley lunch spot is Caffe Citti ($$) in Kenwood, a mom-and-pop roadside Italian trattoria where you order at the counter, then snag a seat on the big deck outside (alas, there’s no longer a vineyard view over the new high fence around the patio, but at least it blocks road noise). There’s no fuss or pretense here; the focus is on the food. Order the homemade pizzas, sandwiches on homemade foccacia bread, or raviloi with marinara sauce, made with Grandma’s secret recipe. Okay, so it’s American-Italian, but damn, it sure tastes great. Stop here if you failed to pack a picnic basket in town.

The top pick for dinner or weekend brunch in Sonoma Valley is the fig cafe & wine bar ($$), a soulful bistro that lives up to the real French definition of the term: a relaxed restaurant serving comfort food for weary travelers. Among the standouts, rich, savory pot roast, tarragon-steamed mussels, and hearty cassoulet made with duck confit. No glass of wine costs more then $8, and every bottle is under $40. Weekend brunch ($) is a bargain, an ideal stopover before wine-tasting in the valley.

Sonoma Restaurants: Cheap Eats

My favorite breakfasts are at locals-only Pearl’s Homestyle Cooking. Try the thin, crêpe-like pancakes; on Fridays, go for the chili huevos rancheros. And keep an eye out for Pearl, the oh-so-cute kitty cat for whom the restaurant is named.

For superior Mexican, skip the places around the Plaza, and instead drive to Juanita Juanita, a tiny roadside joint that makes good tostadas and killer ‘garlic-garlic burritos.’ Kick it with cold brew on tap on the (dog-friendly) patio. Arrive before 8pm. Service is hit or miss, probably a miss if they don’t recognize you as a local. Dig the super-cool freehand spray-paint mural outside. Awesome.

When you’re jonesing for a late-night snack, head north of town on Hwy 12 and find the taco trucks between Boyes Blvd and Agua Caliente. The best of ‘em is the Jesus Taco Truck: look for the garish painting of the Christ on the back of the truck. (He hasn’t been around much lately. The secular trucks are satisfactory in a pinch—and taste even better if you’ve been pounding tequila all night.)

If you couldn’t get your act together in time to create something lavish for your sweetheart on Valentine’s Day, fear not. Here’s how to handle it: Postpone the holiday till you can focus proper attention on your beloved. Remember, your partner is in love with you, not the calendar. Think creatively.

Do this. Write out a card, preferably handmade on a nice piece of paper—maybe a collage if you’re crafty—that simply says, ‘I love you. To celebrate our relationship, mark your calendar for ___.’ Then pick a date to do something together. You’ll not only gain time, you’ll avoid the frenzy a prescribed holiday brings and prove yourself an independent thinker.

Now, what exactly to do? I suggest something simple and within your means, something that requires little planning. Celebrating love means focusing your attention on your partner. For that you need a good backdrop, maybe a long walk down a gorgeous stretch of beach, a one-night midweek getaway to a romantic inn, or a great meal at an out-of-the-way roadhouse.

To get you started, here are my top picks for easy getaways near home. The secret is to find seclusion. Go somewhere—anywhere—where there are no distractions. That includes television.

1.) Book a midweek stay at a nearby inn. Take one vacation day and split it into two: Leave work at noon and return to your desk the next day at noon. My favorite out-of-the-way places within an hour (or so) of San Francisco:

• Pescadero Creekside Barn on the San Mateo Coast.
• A woodsy retreat in West Marin.
• A night in the story-book village of Occidental.
• A food- and wine-tasting overnight in Healdsburg.
• A couples’ spa retreat in Calistoga.
• A waterside cottage at Nick’s Cove on Tomales Bay.

2.) Take a Saturday day trip down Hwy 1 along the San Mateo Coast. It’s close to home, an easy drive, and spectacularly beautiful—especially now that spring’s first flowers are budding. Lunch in Pescadero, load up the car with jams and sweets from Swanton Berry Farm, then wander out Pigeon Point on your way back. Best of all, the drive together will afford you time to catch up and laugh together while listening to your favorite CDs.

3.) Spend time together outdoors away from the sound of internal combustion engines. Hold hands as you walk through grassy fields whooshing in the breeze, or giggle as you spaz out together in a kayak.

• Trek out Tomales Point, at Point Reyes, through herds of roaming elk on high bluffs above the crashing surf.
• Kayak Tomales Bay and scope the sky for rare migratory birds (bring binocs).
• Cozy beneath a blanket and whale-watch at Pigeon Point Lighthouse on the San Mateo Coast.
• Hike beside seasonal waterfalls on the skirts of Mount Tam, in West Marin.

4.) Take a food-inspired road trip. Explore the back roads of Marin and Sonoma, then feast on a meal together. This requires a good map: Pick up a copy of the Benchmark California Atlas (call Get Lost Books or REI), which shows every single road in California, along with the topography. Some of my favorite road-and-food combos:

• Marshall-Petaluma Rd, with a seaside meal of oysters and champagne at Nick’s Cove, in Marshall. For more on Nick’s, read my Tomales Bay getaway guide.
• Coleman Valley Rd, through West County Sonoma, with lunch or dinner at the Seaweed Cafe. Read the Bodega Bay guide—and watch the video.
• Lucas Valley Rd to Nicasio Valley Rd to Point Reyes Station, where you can pack a picnic at Cowgirl Creamery and take it Point Reyes. For more, read the West Marin guide.
• Hwy 1 to Pescadero, with a detour along Stage Rd, followed by an Americana-country dinner at Duarte’s. Check out my San Mateo Coast guide.

5.) Stay home and do something you never have time to do together. Like cooking an extravagant meal using all those New York Times recipes you’ve been saving up. Or sipping champagne in the hot tub you never use. Or simply taking a walk to the top of Twin Peaks—an ideal place to make out. (As you approach the parking area, look for the staircase to the tippy-top of the hill; you’ll likely have it all to yourselves.) Just don’t watch movies: Be active, not passive.

The point is to express your love. If your relationship is flagging, the secret to reviving it is to remember what drew you together in the first place. By so doing, you’ll not only reignite the fire in your hearts, you’ll have a lovely day together.

The grey-whale migration is in full swing at Point Reyes National Seashore, one of the premier spots on the entire California coast to spot these enormous mammals. But there’s more here than just whales. Hike rocky headlands rising from the sea, scope the wide-open sky for migratory birds, kayak Tomales Bay, or stroll long, sandy beaches beside the roaring surf.

On the other side of the San Andreas Fault from the Marin shore, the 65,000-acre peninsula is on an entirely different tectonic plate, and it feels like it too: this is the windiest, foggiest place on the West Coast. Except for several 19th-century dairy farms, the land has remained completely undeveloped since Sir Francis Drake landed here in 1579 to repair his ship, the Golden Hinde. The peninsula’s eastern side is marked by pine forests and the steep hillsides of Inverness Ridge, the spine of Point Reyes; west of the ridge the land undulates in rolling prairies and grasslands, with wide-open vistas of sky and sea.

Get your bearings at the Bear Valley Visitor Center, the park’s headquarters. Pick up a copy of the fog-proof Tom Harrison hiking map. The Drakes Beach Visitor Center is smaller and 30 minutes from the mainland, but has interesting historical exhibits about Sir Francis Drake, as well as a good café.

At the very tip of the peninsula, the postcard-perfect 1870 Point Reyes Lighthouse sits below the 600ft-high headlands—308 steps, to be exact—in order for the beam to shine under the typically high fog. Bring binoculars to spot passing ships and whales, and listen for the braying and barking of elephant seals lazing on the rocks. Make it a point to go inside the lighthouse to see the giant first-order Fresnel lens when the lighthouse is open. Even if it’s not, you can still whale-watch from the point. Because it’s ten miles out to sea, you’ll have a drop-dead vantage point on the migrating gray whales (December through April), an awesome sight!

Whale-watching Road-closure Alert:
On weekends and holidays, from late December through mid-April, the road to Chimney Rock and the lighthouse—the top spots for viewing migrating gray whales—closes to vehicles south of South Beach. To relieve traffic jams on the narrow road, the park has initiated a shuttle-bus service from Drake’s Beach. For full details, read this.

Beaches flank Point Reyes, some mellow, others fabulously treacherous. The surf is calm enough for wading at Drakes Beach; its drive-to access and proximity to a visitor center and rest rooms make it good for families with kids, but that’s also its drawback: too many people. There are fewer beachcombers on Limantour Beach, and the birdwatching is fantastic. On the Tomales Bay side, the water is warmer and sometimes smooth as glass, perfect for little kids; head to Heart’s Desire Beach, part of Tomales Bay State Park—one of the state parks Schwarzenneger proposes closing.

But for real drama, head to the Great Beach, a 10-mile-long stretch of sand that gets positively hammered by the surf; this is one of the few Northern California beaches to face almost due west, and it gets killer waves. Seriously. Listen up: Do NOT turn your back on the ocean here; rogue waves drown inattentive visitors every year. (Read more tips and cautionary tales about beach safety at Point Reyes, including how not to drown if caught in a rip current.)

Crisscrossed by 140 miles of hiking trails, Point Reyes’s most dramatic hikes are atop coastal bluffs, by the beach, and along Inverness Ridge. For the most bang for your buck—especially if you have out-of-towners in tow—it’s hard to beat the Tomales Point Trail at the park’s northern end. Park at Pierce Point Ranch, then trek over undulating grasslands, hundreds of feet above the surf, through the Tule Elk Preserve, with herds of wandering elk just yards away. (Stay back: they’ll charge if you get too close!) The moderately easy 3-mile one-way hike is long enough for most, but continue another 1.7 miles to the tip for stellar views of Bodega Head.

For equally stunning vistas, take the more challenging Inverness Ridge Trail from Limantour Rd to the top of 1282ft-high Mount Vision (which you can also access by car from the other side). Near the lighthouse, the jaw-dropping Chimney Rock Trail has stellar wintertime whale-watching, and in spring awesome wildflowers.

From the Bear Valley Visitor Center, the Arch Rock Trail is wildly popular, primarily because the trailhead is near the main visitor center; the four-mile trek to the beach shows off the peninsula’s varied landscape—pine forests, grasslands, and coastal bluffs—but you can’t access the beach at trail’s end. For a big, easy wow, take the half-mile roundtrip loop along the Earthquake Trail to see an 18ft break in an old wooden fence, a remnant of the 1906 earthquake—a must-do if you’re starting your day at the Bear Valley Visitor Center.

A Note about Dogs on Point Reyes:
Unlike at state parks, you can bring your pup to parts of the park so long as he stays on a short leash (less than six feet long). The rangers are very strict about enforcement; remember, if you get a ticket here, it’s a federal offense. (I know, I know…don’t blame me.) Dogs aren’t permitted on any trails (except Kehoe Beach access trail), and they’re allowed only on a few beaches. Read the rules before you come. ]]> http://71miles.com/?feed=rss2&p=60 http://71miles.com/destinations/point-reyes-national-seashore-2 http://feeds.feedburner.com/~r/71miles-northern-ca/~3/219019587/save-california-state-parks http://71miles.com/destinations/save-california-state-parks#comments Fri, 18 Jan 2008 19:06:37 +0000 John Vlahides Northern California Weekly Hiking http://71miles.com/destinations/save-california-state-parks

Normally I wouldn’t write an op-ed piece for my weekly post, but this issue is so important to local travel – and relevant to you, intrepid traveler – that I simply must raise my voice. As you probably read in the Chronicle yesterday, Governor Schwarzenegger has proposed the *closure of 48 state parks throughout California. This is unacceptable.

The governor appears to have a secret agenda. According to the California State Parks Foundation, on Wednesday of this week (1/15/08), Schwarzenegger announced his support of a private toll road through San Onofre State Beach, one of the parks he proposes closing. The effect on the park would be devastating. [Ed update: On Feb 7, the Coastal Commission nixed this plan because of overwhelming public pressure. Keep it coming.]

Since his open support of this has come just one week following his announced proposal to close the parks, I can’t help but wonder what else would happen to our precious lands if nobody is on site to monitor them, other than the occasional ranger driving by. Remember: the Patriot Act was sitting on a shelf waiting to be enacted into law. What already-written legislation is sitting on the shelves of the California State Capitol?

The existing threats to state parks are myriad. If the parks close, they’ll get trashed. Blocking public access and minimizing supervision creates a breeding ground for vandalism. There’s no way to stop determined people from breaking into an open space. Extra and expensive law enforcement will likely be required. Then if the parks ever reopen, there will be huge clean-up costs. It’s far easier to maintain something than it is to clean it up.

You love to travel. You have a voice. Use it: Contact your state-assembly member and senator. All this mess could be fixed be re-instituting the vehicle-licensing fee that Schwarzenegger shortsightedly rescinded in 2003 to win popular approval. If you support re-instituting the fee, tell your representative now.

The land belongs to the people. It’s time for us to stand up and claim what is ours. In the wise words of Joni Mitchell, you don’t know what you’ve got till it’s gone. Let’s not find out.

Ed note: Thanks to local-hiking aficionado Brad Day for digging up this great map from the budget office. –JV