Placerville

Just got back from a quick weekend in Placerville, California. It's about two hours southwest of Reno, and more importantly it had no connection whatsoever to Hot August Nights, which made it the perfect destination all around.

Now that Melissa has the weekends off, we can finally do the sorts of things I've been dying to do with her for months now. Last night we stayed at a nice little B&B called the Chichester-Mckee Inn, a house that owns the distinction of being the first house in Placerville to have running water. As you can see in the picture it's one of those gigantic old Victorian homes (although come to think of it, pretty much every B&B is in a gigantic old Victorian home), the kind of fantastic place that no one builds anymore. If you look closely, you can see that they've even got a conservatory on the right side of the picture. I just love the idea of being able to say "hey, lets go hang out in the conservatory." That would be so cool, even worth the inevitable "Colonel Mustard with a lead pipe" jokes.

After checking in yesterday we headed south on County Road E16, down to the Fair Play Appellation, which I was interested to find out is the smallest appellation in the United States--yes, I'm just the sort of person who would find that interesting. We visited several small, family-owned vineyards and wineries, exactly the sort of place that I want to own someday. We did the usual wine-tasting stuff, rattling on about our completely unfounded opinions, buying way more wine than we probably should, enjoying the whole decadent atmosphere. When we asked about a good place to eat, we were recommended the Gold Vine Grill in the tiny hamlet of Somerset. Actually, it essentially was the tiny hamlet of Somerset, which is basically a couple of buildings at the crossroads of E16 and Grizzly Flat road. I'd link to the restaurant's website, but it doesn't have one. It doesn't even have a mailing address aside from a P.O. Box. But it was a phenomenal discovery--the food was unbelievable. If you're ever at the intersection of El Dorado County Road E16 and Grizzly Flat, do yourself a favor and try the Chicken Marsala.

Today we got up for a leisurely breakfast and headed up to Apple Hill. Apple Hill is a collection of ranches that got together in the 1960's to form a sort of co-op/tourist attraction. Dozens of farms, ranches and orchards dot the coves and hillsides of El Dorado County north of Highway 50. Though Apples are a specialty, the area is also a great wine-producing region and home to many vineyards, and it produces all manner of fruits, particularly peaches, pears, cherries (although this was not a good cherry year), and there is (as you can see in the picture on the left) an unusually high concentration of Christmas Tree farms. Those Christmas Trees you see in that picture are growing in 90-plus degree heat--the only tough part of the trip was the fact that the heat was even worse than Reno (the elevation is about 2000 feet lower) and the humidity was unusually high. It almost reminded me of my home in Alabama in that respect.

The whole experience really made me think what a heaven on earth California is. The only thing that makes it such a lousy place sometimes is all the people on top of people that you get on the coast, particularly SoCal and the Bay Area. But the Sierra foothills do not have that problem yet. The foothills are a rolling land of thick forests, blessed by warm days and cool nights, not far from the big cities of Sacramento and San Francisco but far enough away to seem like another world, and all of it backed up against the magnificent Sierras themselves. If I sound like some sort of lame Chamber of Commerce rep, well, I guess it's because I'm so completely in love with the whole region, from the pine forests and lakes of the mountains to the idyllic farmland below. When I finally get that vineyard I'm always dreaming of, I really hope it's in a place like this. In this part of the world wine holds a special place in people's hearts. To get some idea, just check out the water spout on the sink in the picture at left, taken in the restroom at Primus Vineyards.

One of the best things about this region is the people. You really find all sorts in a place like this, but they all have one thing in common: They all understand the value of living life well. Sure, it's the country life, but as Robert Lajoie of Chalet Fleur de Lys--where they produce fantastic Sangiovese, by the way--said to us yesterday, "it's a lot more than just shit-kickers out here" (it sounds funnier if you imagine it in Robert's thick Quebecois accent). Almost all of the people that you meet in the small towns of the foothills moved there by choice because they understood that the best things in life are the company of friends and loved ones, beautiful surroundings, a fantastic climate and a slow pace of life to enjoy it all in. Here it's all about simple things; the seasons, food, wine, and friends. Hard work is a part of life here, as it is everywhere, but in the foothills people manage to keep work in the proper perspective: why run yourself into an early grave just to earn a few extra bucks when you already have everything important?

Inevitably we had to return. Tomorrow I have to go back to prosecution and Melissa has to go back to producing television news. This is always the most disappointing part of any trip--having to come back to the "real" world. But one day, it's not going to happen that way. One day I'm going to wander into those foothills (or somewhere similar), find myself a small piece of land of my own, and start to live the life I want. It won't be next week, and it probably won't be next year, but it will happen someday. Until then, well, I guess it's nice knowing that El Dorado is not too far away.