Taking the High Road

For reasons that are now unclear, Vicki, I, and Fred Blumenstein become preoccupied with hiking from Chamonix, France to Zermatt, Switzerland in 1986. We were aware of a famous cross-country ski track called the Haute Route, and we thought it would be fun to hike it in the summer. Fred, who grew up in France called the Chamonix Guides for information. We planned to hike the route on our own, and the guide we talked to said, “ Well you can do that, but if he wish to come back alive, I suggest you hire a guide.”

Alps

When we arrived in Chamonix, our guide Pierre met us at the Mt. Blanc Hotel, where we were staying. The trip would take five days over glaciers, and we would be staying in high mountain huts. I later learned the Haute or high route could go in many places. We were taking the highest possible way, and yes, it was probably the most difficult.

Pierre

First we had to do a day of training with crampons and ice ax before we embarked on our trip. Pierre came to our room and inspected our gear. He discarded much of our clothing, as it was too heavy. The training day consisted of walking on a glacier and learning different walking techniques. For example, ten-ten was a way of walking downhill and maintaining stability. We learned about using a rope and avoiding crevasses.

That night we all enjoyed dinner at the hotel, where the waiter named Fred and me the fromage brothers, since we ate most of his cheese tray. In the morning we had a nice breakfast before meeting Pierre and driving out of town.

A chairlift helped us gain some elevation. At the top of the ski station we began our hike. Soon we were enveloped by snow, rock, and blue sky as we waked many kilometers. That night we stayed in our first high mountain hut.

Chamonix Mountain Guides are like NFL football players in the US.  Their training is rigorous and lengthy, and few make the grade. When Pierre walked into a hut, people gave him a wide berth and treated him with instant respect.  Typically he would find a place for himself in the guide’s room and then find us berths in the large sleeping rooms, where hikers stayed. We were given about 18 inches of floor space in which to sleep. Strangers from other countries slept next to us. Dining was communal. The WC usually was next to a cliff, and negotiating the icy trail to these structures was a challenge.

David and Pierre

Over the next few days we covered a lot of distance. Pierre initially was difficult. He yelled at me a number of times because I stepped on the rope, a mountaineering sin, though not unexpected from an inexperienced climber like me. He and Fred spoke French together, and Vicki and I felt ignored. Finally I had enough, and I told Pierre to stop yelling, as it made things worse. That was a turning point and from then on he was much more collegial.

At one point Fred’s Achilles was very painful in spite of meds. He felt he couldn’t go on, and we left him in the village of Champex, where we ended one of our day’s hikes.

After taking a cab to another spot, Vicki, Pierre, and I set out. There were no trail signs, and Pierre used map, compass, and altimeter to find the best route. Typically we would hike over rocky terrain and then glaciers. Pierre was ever watchful for crevasses, which often were hard to see. As the day unfolded we eventually came to our hut for the evening, which was always perched on a high outcrop of rock so as to be safe from avalanches.

Vicki at rest

The way to the huts was usually hard. I remember on day, when we were approaching a hut in fading light with August snow falling and being driven by strong winds. We needed to negotiate a number of steel ladders to reach the hut.  Our crampons made the ascent difficult. When we reached the hut I had soup and immediately slept, as we had been hiking for many hours. After dinner we went to our sleeping space and immediately fell asleep again. We were both exhausted.

We rose early. The idea was to move across the snow and ice before the morning sun softened it. Though I was in good shape, I found the hike to be formidable. I liked it very much, but it was more difficult than any hike I had done before.

Like most activities, over the days we established a structure and rhythm of sleeping, hiking, and eating. We were getting on well with Pierre by then  and enjoying the wildness of the high Alps. As we neared the end of the hike, it snowed, and more was forecast the day we were due to walk into Zermatt. Pierre deemed it would be too dangerous to try to reach Zermatt by foot, so we came down a day early to Arrolla and then took a train to Zermatt. He offered to come to Zermatt with us and guide us up the Matterhorn. I wanted to do it, but we were meeting Fred, his wife Laura Rafal, and Mike and Vicki Miller, who had driven from Germany, where they were working, to spend a few days with us.

Zermatt

The time in Zermatt was fun and relaxing. We ate, walked, and rested. One day we walked from the ski station on Plateau Rosa to town. Fred remarked it was like walking through a postcard, and I couldn’t disagree. Part way down we stopped at a mountain hut and had apple strudel and fresh milk.

All too soon it was time to head to Paris. Though this was an adventure in its own right, I found it hard to bid farewell to the high mountains of France and Switzerland.

A Hole to Play

The 15 TH hole at Woods Valley Golf Course is unusual. From an elevated tee the golfer hits straight to the fairway. Go left, and your ball will go into woods. Go right and the chaparral will eat your shot. Some people try to go to the right and cut the corner. A long driver can do this. If you don’t hit your ball far enough, you will be hitting a penalty shot.  The safest route is to go straight to the fairway, where it is then a nine iron or a pitching wedge to the green.

Some Restaurants to Try

1. Maurizio’s in Encinitas
2. Mille Fleurs in Rancho Santa Fe
3. Bacci on Morena Blvd.
4. Primavera on Coronado
5. Rendezvous in del Mar

Stories from the Road
June 19, 2016
Bush Street, San Francisco

the city

Sears Restaurant around the corner from out hotel is a San Francisco institution. I had breakfast there years ago with some friends, and it is still outstanding. Vicki had hotcakes, and I had sausage and eggs with hash browns. The place reminded me of DZ Akins in San Diego or Durgan Park in Boston with its salty waitresses and efficient service.

After chatting with our doorman, Cornell, we started walking toward Pacific Heights. Many of the local neighborhoods had small markets, where people and their dogs were picking up groceries. At one point we came upon a Whole Foods store, which was busy.

People on our walk were friendly. One woman suggested we walk up the steep hills using a switchback strategy. Another saw us looking at a map and offered route-finding help. It brought back a memory 15 years ago, when we were on an organized hike up Soledad Mountain in La Jolla. Vicki and I had set up a small table with coffee and pastry for our group on a street corner. We were quiet and orderly on a Sunday morning around 8:30, but that didn’t stop a local homeowner from calling the police and having us moved to another location.

local bride

Later we watched the US Open, which was contaminated by obsessive behavior on the part of the United States Golf Association officials, who were running the tournament. They made a dumb ruling and initiated a process, which was unfair to the players. Luckily Dustin Johnson won without the penalty stroke he was given changing the outcome. His brilliant play was in sharp contrast to the ponderous deliberations of the USGA officials.

The Warriors game was a good one, and Cleveland played well. I was disappointed that the home team lost, but the game was dramatic and entertaining. LaBron James well deserved the MVP award, as his play was outstanding.

Today it is off to the Museum of Modern Art. Have a good day.

David DiCicco

Stories from the road

Stories from the road

June 17, 2016

San Francisco, CA.

Orchard Hotel

Little River Inn

I awoke to the sound of rain on the roof of our cabin at the Old Crocker Inn. It was a pleasant sound that reminded me of New England. The deer were still around, as we made our way to breakfast, which I liked better today. Our hosts served a smoothie and then a waffle with fruit. 

The ride to San Francisco was easy in light traffic. Going over the Golden Gate Bridge was no hassle, but the toll collection was a pain. If you didn’t have Easy Pass then you had to go on line within 48 hours and pay the $6.75.  

With no problems we made out way to the Orchard Hotel on Bush Street, where we were staying. I gave a good tip to Cornell, who took our bags and car, as a lot of my stuff was in his hands. Neighborhood restaurants and markets surrounded our hotel. It gave me a good feeling.

Later we walked through China Town, which was full of camera and trinket shops, to the piers and then to the Embarcadero. We ate our main meal of the day at Scoma’s Restaurant. It is a touristy place, but I am a tourist. Vicki and I both had filet of sole, which was delicious. We shared an order of Cannolis for desert. 

I noted that all the waiters were Caucasian and all the busboys Asian. This seemed an odd phenomenon to me for a restaurant that has been on the Warf for at least 40 years.  Later we saw a group of minority children getting on buses after a field tip to the city. But I thought in San Francisco the minority seems to be the majority.

Mendocino plants

Russian Hill is steep, but eventually we made it to the top and walked to Bush Street.  I liked walking through residential neighborhoods and stumbling upon local restaurants.  San Francisco is an interesting city that way.

Have a good day.

David DiCicco

Stories from the Road: June 16

Stories from the road

June 16, 2016

Old Croker Inn

Cloverdale, Ca.

Coppola's Winery

They call our place a B&B, but it feels more like a little ranch to me. Before breakfast this morning I saw a small herd of deer wandering around. Breakfast was not my favorite. It was too “cute”. It started with a warm pear and moved onto a poached egg on corn bread. I am thinking bacon, eggs over easy, hash browns, and whole-wheat toast. I guess the B& B’s need to distinguish themselves from Denny’s, so they go “cute country” on you. Soon we will go to Healdsburg and the wine trail, though I am drinking water today.

local

Francis Ford Coppola’s winery was fantastic. The man is a visionary and marketing genius. The winery is a beautiful set of buildings with multiple wine tasting rooms, restaurants, and gift shops interspersed among exhibits of his movies and their awards. It is a gourmet museum. There was a large swimming pool with cabanas for day use, a child’s playground, and bocce ball courts. Everything was clean, neat, and tidy. The staff was engaging and helpful.  A group of bikers from Vermont Bike Tours arrived, and having been on several VBT bike trips, we talked with them about our mutual trips.

Jack and Jeannine

It was then onto Healdsburg for touring and lunch. Vic Fazao had suggested we look up the Haggertys, mutual friends from San Diego, now living in Santa Rosa. I told him I didn’t think we would have time meet with Jack and Jeannine. As we were walking down the street, a man stopped me, and it was jack! He and Jeannine had driven to Healdsburg for lunch, and we joined them for the best hamburger in Sonoma County. The Haggertys love golf, so we had plenty to talk about.

We watched the game last night and will drive to San Francisco this morning. It is raining out now, and I haven’t seen any deer yet.

Have a good day.

David DiCicco

Stories from the Road; June 15

Stories from the road
June 15, 2016
Cloverdale, CA.
Old Crocker Inn

Old Crocker Inn

After a breakfast of Swedish pancakes we checked out of The Little River Inn headed to Rt. 128 to Sonoma. There were numerous deer and some wild turkeys on the way along with many wineries that were new to me. The road was narrow and curvy with the locals treating it like Le Mans. I pulled over numerous times to let people pass, as we were taking our time and seeing the sights.


Eventually we made it to Cloverdale, a smart little town 20 miles north of Healdsburg.  After some hassle we got on the right road for the Old Crocker Inn, which was an isolated property. Set on 5 acres the inn has a storied past, when it was a small part of an enormous ranch owned by some of the people who help built California. Now it consists of a lodge and small number of rooms and cabins in a very private, quiet area. I told the owner, a bearded man with a sharp wit, that the Inn was a unique property, and he said, “ I am unique too.” I didn’t disagree. This afternoon we’ll hang out at he Inn and go to dinner in the early evening in, Cloverdale.

local

It has been a restful afternoon in our small cabin. I looked out the window and saw a deer in the parking lot. I went out to shoot some pictures and then saw 4 or 5 more here and there around the property. It is always exciting to see wildlife.

Dinner tonight was in Cloverdale, a sleepy place with some charm. We found an Italian restaurant owned by a couple, who were very pleasant. The man was Hispanic, and his wife was Italian.  We both had veal dishes that were tasty.

It is early morning here in Cloverdale. There are no sounds out there, and I didn’t see any deer in the parking lot. After breakfast we’ll head into Healdsburg, which I visited some years ago for my 50 TH high school reunion. A classmate, Lou Preston, owner of Preston Vineyards of Dry Creek, owns a winery there.

Have a good day.

David DiCicco

Stories from the road

Stories from the Road

June 14, 2016

Mendocino, CA.

The Little River Inn

The air was cold this morning as we teed off at the Little River Inn Golf Course. On the second hole the deer appeared. Later we saw a doe and its fawn heading into the woods. Some nice locals let us play through in the middle of the back nine. The course is fun but challenging.

After our round the dining room was still serving breakfast. We both had eggs with sides and coffee. The restaurant at the Inn does a great job serving wholesome food in a pleasant setting. The servers are nice and competent.

Later we cruised around Mendocino again on foot and by car. We found new shops and hidden places. The town has a counter culture feel to it. Even the tourists wear fisherman caps and ponytails. After an ice cream cone we headed back to the Inn to rest before dinner.

 

I finished a book this afternoon about a couple that lived in the Alaskan Wilderness for 15 years. Both were very resourceful people who did everything themselves. Danger was around every corner much of the time. Eventually they moved to West Virginia, where they continue to be self-sufficient homesteaders. This was an interesting book to read from the comfort of my seaside room in The Little River Inn.

Lentil soup and salmon were on my menu last night. The fish was excellent as was the local Sauvignon Blanc.  Vicki and I split a cobbler and ice cream for desert. Today it is back over the foothills to Sonoma. I will be sad to leave the Little River Inn with its great views, wonderful food, and funky golf course through the woods.

David DiCicco

On the Road

Stories from the Road
Mendocino, CA.
June 13, 2016

at the Inn

from our room

On the first hole this morning I saw a deer, and then I saw three more. They seemed use to people as they ate peacefully and paid no attention to us as we drove by in our gas-powered cart. The Little River Inn golf course was fun. The greens were small and the fairways at times narrow. Accuracy was a must. We enjoyed the redwood setting and the cool coastal air. On the second time we played the first nine we got behind a five some, who were friendly but slow. There were four players in front of them, so we relaxed and enjoyed the outdoors.

After the round we drove to Ft. Bragg, a funky town ten miles from our Inn. The place had an eccentric, off the grid feel to it, and not much was happening there. We found an Italian restaurant and had lunch followed by an ice cream cone at a local shop. There are a few hippie-homeless couples walking the roads with their canine companions. They looked too disheveled to be part of the REI or Patagonia crowd.

Mendocino

There is a rugged beauty to this area, and the living is good, at least if you are a tourist. The prices are less than those in San Diego. Wineries are everywhere, so the choices are endless. Abalone is in season, and we have seen a lot of scuba divers trying to hunt them down.

We ate in the bar last night and shared a meatloaf dish, which I liked. Cleveland played very well, and I don’t think anyone could have beaten them last night. The tsunami brothers, Kylie and Lebron were on. Hopefully the Warriors can close it out on Thursday. Tee time today is 7:00 AM.

Have a good day.

June 10, 2016

Stories from the Road
Pismo Beach, CA
June 10, 2016


The roads were clogged today from Del Mar to Santa Barbara.  There were trucks galore along with people headed to college graduations at institutions up and down the coast. It wasn’t an easy drive, and I was relieved to stumble upon our Hilton Garden Inn. We took a Pismo exit to set my Garmin, when there was our hotel on the corner.  I went to the workout room for 30 minutes. A man came in, weighed himself, and then left. I am not sure how many calories he burned.

We found a funky restaurant near the ocean, which worked out well. I had a cup of clam chowder with a dinner salad while Vicki ordered fish and chips. My Firestone Double Barrel Ale, which is made in nearby Paso Robles, was delicious. Our waitress was a transplanted Easterner, and we enjoyed talking with her. In a short time it felt as if I were talking with a friend.

We watched the NBA finals back at he Hilton, and it was fun to see the Splash brothers back on their game. Golden State’s defense was also outstanding.

We found another funky looking breakfast place last night.  Soon we’ll drive there before driving to Santa Rosa. Tomorrow it is onto Mendocino and the Little River Inn, which has a golf course.

Have a good day.

David

Golf today

June 9, 2016

 

Once again a wet mist hung over Fairbanks Ranch Country Club today. I had another good day with the exception of pushing a couple of balls to the right. They ended up in one of the ponds, but my third ball was good. I talked with my friend Jorge, who extolled the idea of practice in order to get better.

In two hours and fifteen minutes my round was over, and I was drinking coffee on the patio. I sent a message to my golf instructor, summarizing the round, and then I headed back to Del Mar.

Golf Yesterday

June 8, 2016

It was warm yesterday but overcast. The day started with a blue heron sitting near us on the first tee of the lakes Course at Fairbanks. Vicki and I were first on the starter’s list, but I waved phantom Neil through right away, as I knew I would never see him after hole 1. My game improved as we played the Lakes and then the Ocean Course. It was one of those days, when bad shot were few, and good ones dominated my game.

While warming up I talked to a workman spraying the practice green. He told me he had to be licensed to do his job, and he commuted from Temecula every day. He would soon be leaving the club to work at The Journey, a course in his hometown. He was clearly a competent man, and I thought this is the kind of an employee one wants.

Two blue herons flew low over our heads on the Ocean Course. Later I almost stepped on a duck family looking for Vicki’s ball. On the funky hole number five I watched a young guy put a ball over the green, which was 260 yards away. I was impressed.

Eventually we ended up in the middle of a shotgun tournament, but we finished quickly without holding anyone up. After coffee and talking with Carolyn, we headed home.

Golf day: May 21, 2016

A golf teacher is like a therapist. He needs to initiate a process of working through a problem that is often time consuming and difficult. He needs to generate hope while at the same time maintaining a critical eye. My teacher, Clark Renner, has been making a number of points for several years. Today one sunk in, and I noted immediate improvement.  The brain is odd. It doesn’t always learn in a linear fashion.  Insight isn’t always logical. Things fall into place. Then the ball goes high and draws to the right.

I heard the sound of Ireland past

“What’s Love Got to do with it?” is the old Tina Turner song. I don’t know if Tina has found the answer to her question yet. She lives in France now, and maybe the French people know.

If Tina came to Ireland, the answer would be a lot! The Irish people are warm and friendly, and they want you to love their country. Many of them have relatives in American, and they seem partial to us yanks. How do I know this? In July of this year I went on a bike trip to the western part of Ireland run by Vermont Bike Tours. My wife Vicki and I along with three friends from Massachusetts joined 14 bikers we didn’t know for eight days in this beautiful place.

We rode twenty to forty miles a day in the Galway and Connemara coast areas with an overnight trip to the Aran Islands. Our route followed the ocean or went through burrens and peat bogs much of the time. We rode on back country roads with little traffic. Many days I seemed to see more sheep on the road than cars! We pedaled multi speed touring bikes that were well maintained by our wonderful native guides Catherine and Gina. The terrain was mostly rolling hills with an occasional steep climb. 

High points for me were several. I loved the ferry ride to the Aran Islands and the subsequent 6-mile ride to our ocean side hotel. Only 400 people lived on the island we explored, and it has a wild, forlorn quality about it. Our innkeeper baked fresh scones in the morning accompanied by large portions of smoked salmon and eggs.

 

The night before we had been invited to a musical performance at our hotel by thee local musicians. I had grown up listening to a lot of Irish music, so I was looking forward to the evening. When I saw that the three performers were ages 8, 10, and 13, I was initially disappointed and thought, “What kind of dog and pony show is this?”

As soon as the first boy began singing, our group was drawn into the moment. Closing his eyes and playing his accordion with great skill, the oldest boy sang soulfully of bad times, sadness, and tragedy. Ireland’s past seemed to flow through him. He was a cultural conduit of a people who had suffered famine, poverty, and oppression. After his brothers sang and danced, all the boys sang, “Wild Mountain Thyme”, one of my favorite songs. The eight year old particularly touched our group with his courageous poise and strong clear voice. At the end we shook hands with the boys and joked that we would like to sponsor them on tour in the United States. 

Another high point was our stay at the Zetland Country House Hotel. Beautiful gardens and lawns spread out from the hotel creating a relaxing, almost surreal atmosphere. An attractive pub and dining room overlooking the sea were added attractions. The food was wonderful, and the whole experience was sweetened, when our guides arranged for Vicki and me to have the spacious “honeymoon” suite in honor of our 35th wedding anniversary. 

Bike trips are great fun, and I suppose it isn’t hard to see why. A hard day’s exercise is followed by a pint, good company, and a delicious meal. The settings are scenic and welcoming. Decisions are few and conflicts at a minimum. Like surrogate parents, the guides scurry here and there taking care of everyone in addition to educating their charges about their culture. 

Our two guides were very attractive people. Catherine and Gina were smart, competent, and fun. Irreverent and energetic they helped set a positive, upbeat atmosphere for our group. Their jobs were complex. Bikes needed to be fixed, routes changed due to rain, individual needs met, and van support provided. 

At one point during the trip Gina had said in Gaelic that Irish whiskey was the, “water of life”.  On the last night I pointed out that she had been mistaken, since she and Catherine were really “the water of life!” Indeed they seemed to represent a new Ireland, a land that was economically booming. They personified an Ireland that was proud and progressive, an Ireland on the move, a modern, developing land. Their destiny was to create an Ireland of the future that was different from the one the Aran Island boys had had portrayed with such passion and pathos. 

As I rode the train at the end of the trip to Dublin, I thought of the love and kindness of the Irish country people. Martina, the owner of Sheedy’s Hotel, had said, “Lovely”, every time I ordered something. It was if every meal resulted in an affirmation of one’s judgment and taste! The fun part was that she seemed to mean it! I thought of Catherine’s passion and energy, I thought of Gina’s irreverent wit, and I thought of our group’s kindness and infectious humor after a well earned pint or two at the end of a biking day. And how could I not forget of the boys of Aran Island, who touched us so with their poignant voices.

As our train rolled across the green, rolling farmlands prior to entering the historic city of Dublin, I thought I heard a strain of, “Wild Mountain Thyme.” I closed my eyes, and I listened as closely as I could, and yes, I heard those boys as clearly as if they were sitting in the seat next to me.

 

 

Guacamole Italian Style

 

Mash some avocados in a bowl. Leave the mix chunky

Add chopped tomatoes and chopped white onion

Add juice from a fresh lemon

Add a little white vinegar

Add salt, pepper, seasoned salt, and garlic salt.

Serve with robust chips from Whole Foods