Ilka, Queen of Sudden Oak Death Travelogue

[I hadn't been up Highway 128 in twenty years.]

[Try as he might to avoid it, Chris went ahead and turned 3- this weekend. He was adorable in his horror, but some things will happen if you keep waking up every morning, and 3- is one of them. He had trouble deciding on how to commemorate an occasion he'd just as soon ignore, but finally settled on drinks at the Tonga Room at the Fairmont Hotel on Friday with friends, and then a one-night trip up the coast to Mendocino with me.]

[The Tonga Room hasn't changed since, I imagine, the '60s. Somewhat weak tropical drinks with names like the Bora Bora Horror? Check. Nutrient-free pupu buffet? Check. Cheeseball band performing in the middle of the indoor "lagoon?" Check. Ultra cheeseball rainstorm with recorded thunder and lightning? Check. Good times.]

[We got a bit of a late start Saturday, but that just made it that much more appropriate to grab a late lunch at the Mill Valley In n' Out Burger - a Double-Double, while unseemly at 10:30, is perfectly acceptable at 12:30. An uneventful drive up 101 to northern Sonoma County took us to Highway 128, a road that loomed in my imagination as the long, carsickmaking route to Scout camp and the coast. At least one tenderfoot would usually puke before Boonville. It has changed a bit since I last traveled it in 1986.]

[Not that I was paying attention to such things when I was a teenager, but like everywhere else in semi-rural northern California, it seems the Anderson Valley has become infested with wineries and Sudden Oak Death. (The latter is seriously bad, with what seemed like half the leafless tree-skeletons along the road covered with parasitic lichen and mistletoe.) I'd warned Chris that Yorkville, Boonville, Philo, and Navarro were both pretty to look at and pretty trailer-trashy. The pretty-to-look-at factor has definitely eclipsed the other, and I'm not thrilled by the change. Leave the trailers alone! I decided to go with it, however, and we managed to do some damage to our livers and our wallets at four different wineries before hitting the coast.]

[At two of the four, we were greeted at the tasting counter by Germanic women of a certain age. They were friendly enough, and we bought from them, but in our snarky cleverness we felt the need to group-nickname them "Ilka, Queen of Sudden Oak Death." It was hilarious after the third winery, believe me. I showed a previously subdued love for tasty but affordable sparkling wine, buying one bottle at Scharffenberger in Philo (not related to the chocolate folks) and one at Roederer Estate near Navarro. Chris was enthusiastic for the dessert Riesling at Navarro, the only winery I remember already being there when I used to go up in the '80s.]

[The oak meadow gave way to medieval redwood forest, and I knew the turnoff to the camp where I spent one week a summer for five years was coming up. It turned out to be much better signed than I remembered it being, and I sighed my little nostalgic sign as we drove by. I really enjoyed my time up in the redwoods; Scouting at least fulfilled one of its goals with me, proper socialization. I'm not sure how thrilled B.S.A. would be with just how social this particular Eagle Scout has become with other males, but that's their problem.]

[Mendocino is one of those little villages that went from useful (lumber) to depressed to artist colony to boutique. It's not too obnoxiously cute, and we definitely want to go back and spend more than one night. We indulged in all the usual tourist fantasies about chucking the city life and opening some business in some Victorian or a restored clapboard barn. Again, good times. No bickering.]

[Chris was my hero on the long drive back, handling the heavy rain on curvaceous 128 and crowded 101. Santa Rosa traffic is not to be borne at the best of times, but hydroplaning near the River Road/Guerneville exit will whiten your knuckles for sure. We made it back to the city in less than four hours, and I turned around, took the Roederer over to Dolores House with some brie and crackers, and watched the Oscars with Allen and Carrie. I thought I'd be more disappointed than I was about Brokeback not getting the top prize. I think I'm Brokebacked out.]

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[Later: Read Chris's take on the weekend. He's got stuff I neglected to include.]