WEEKEND ESCAPE : East of Chico Lies a Little Camelot : A cottage in the Sierra foothills is a paradise of privacy.

Camelot was the last place I wanted to be. As a boy, I’d read about the Knights of the Round Table and had lived through the heartbreak of John F. Kennedy’s Camelot. There was even a company that stabled live camels on a lot across town from my home in Southern California. What more did I need to know?

But here I was, driving north on Interstate 5, with my wife, Mona, headed for yet another Camelot. It was to be a brief stopover on our way to Mendocino, north of San Francisco, to attend a high school class reunion. Mona heard about this Camelot from friends: “A real hideaway for two--great for newlyweds, or for an anniversary--it’s like nothing you’ve ever seen before!”

She had asked if we could leave for the reunion a few days early so we could check it out. The place was located six miles into the foothills east of Chico, in Butte County. In a moment of weakness I said OK. It wasn’t far out of our way.

Mona said that two artists, Bill and Kathleen Bowen, built it after they got married on Valentine’s Day, 1989, and couldn’t find the honeymoon retreat of their dreams. Camelot is not a hotel or a typical B&B;, but a one-bedroom cottage hidden in a canyon between Chico and the community of Paradise. It is designed for two people who want to be alone. You pay in advance by mail or at the Bowens’ home near the cottage.

The price includes everything: the house, food, even the domestic champagne. My wife was vague on other details, but assured me it would be worth the detour. (Later, I found we could have flown to Sacramento or San Jose, caught a commuter plane to Chico, rented a car and been there in a couple of hours.)

We got to Chico a day early and looked up some relatives whom we stayed with overnight. They suggested we make a dry run in the foothills that afternoon to see if we could actually find Camelot. The suggestion proved to be a good one because we did get lost in Butte Creek Canyon when we made a wrong turn and the road we were on turned into two ruts separated by brush. We eventually got on the right road and found the place, drove past it, turned around in some farmer’s gravel driveway and headed back to civilization. We didn’t see much on the excursion--a couple of deer and some cows--but at least we knew how to get there.

That evening we relaxed at our relatives’ home and, early the next morning, we explored Chico. Chico is a college town (Chico State is there), bordered on the west by the Sacramento River and on the east by the foothills of the Sierra Nevada.

It’s an oasis of verdant urbanity in what is the often hot, dusty Sacramento Valley of Northern California. Walking the tree-lined streets, we were enchanted by the beauty of the community and the friendly people. We passed the ornately Victorian Bidwell Mansion, built shortly after the Civil War by Chico’s founder, Gen. John Bidwell. We were too early to go in and thought we would have time to examine the imposing structure later, but we ran out of time and didn’t get back.

We stopped to eat at the Sierra Nevada Brewing Co., where we sampled the “award-winning ales”--worth the accolade, we thought. After lunch, we drove south out of town on Highway 99, turned off on the Chico Skyway and made a left turn off the Skyway onto a road called Honey Run. As we drove along Honey Run, my wife suggested we stop at a covered bridge we’d seen the day before to take some pictures. I wandered off to check Butte Creek for fish. I spotted a couple of good-sized trout swimming under the bridge.

“Let’s get going,” my wife said. We parked in a clearing below the cottage. There wasn’t a human being in sight. “Where do we check in?” I asked. “We don’t,” Mona said. “There will be a key in the key-box near the door. We won’t see anyone.” I unloaded the luggage and started up the steep, narrow path toward the cottage, feeling the first hint of adventure. Halfway up, the path leveled out. I discovered a bench in the shade of a wispy pine tree and sat down to catch my breath. The rest stop offered a dramatic view of the canyon. “Well,” I thought, “at least we’ll have some scenery.”

Reluctantly, I got off the bench. The path crested in a few feet and wound down a gentle slope to a bridge over a dry creek bed. As we approached the cottage, a stained-glass window next to an onion-top door were the first real clues that this was not a typical bed and breakfast retreat.

The place was almost part of the landscape, nestled on the side of the canyon. The arched footbridge led to the rough-hewn plank door. We found the key tucked in a miniature wooden container, and I unlocked the door. Low strains of the musical “Camelot” and sounds of splashing water greeted us as I lifted the latch. The heavy door swung open onto a massive, natural-rock waterfall that covered the entire wall. A pond below the waterfall captured the water cascading from the rocks near the ceiling. The falls were draped with ferns and moss. We noted that the entry was an extension of the footbridge outside. The walkway curved down, past the waterfall into the living room.

In exploring the cottage, we found a modern, well-stocked kitchen with an indoor barbecue. There was a fireplace in the living room and another in the spacious bedroom. A handcrafted, king-size, four-poster bed set the mood for the bedroom. Hanging plants and more ferns embellished the rock-lined shower-for-two.

A small storeroom off the bathroom was stocked with the amenities of home--toothbrushes to shaving cream. Linens, towels and washcloths were neatly stacked on shelves above a washing machine and dryer. There may have been a television/VCR set somewhere, but I don’t remember seeing one. We didn’t feel compelled to play it if there was. That alone was worth the $160 price for the night.

We marveled at the hand-carved beams in the ceiling, adapted to the delicate wood motif used everywhere in the interior and exterior carvings of the house. The oak paneling, accented with pine, blended in with the walls and ceilings. A mantel piece made from an ancient beam graced the living room fireplace. Hand-thrown pottery wall sconces and custom dishware complemented handmade place mats and napkins. Original paintings and photographs were discreetly displayed on the walls. All contributed to the unity and harmony of the house. Design motifs echoed details of the remarkable view of Butte Creek Canyon.

After touring the house, we strolled back to the modern kitchen. Mona poured a glass of orange juice while I brewed some coffee. We ventured out sliding glass doors to a veranda off the living room. The redwood porch wrapped around the house, and steps led down to a lower terrace where a replica of King Arthur’s sword Excalibur pierced a man-made boulder covered with lichen. At the end of the terrace, a manzanita tree sheltered a modern, heated spa, complete with water jets. We continued to explore, surprised by the subtleties and craftsmanship. The beauty of the hills and the silence engulfed us. We kicked off our shoes and sat down on some padded, wrought-iron chairs on the veranda. In a few short minutes, the art and architecture of this hideaway had propelled us into another dimension, away from the daily worries. As the sun was setting over the western rim of the canyon, I suggested, “Let’s cook dinner here, and then relax in the spa.” “You cook, I’ll get in the spa,” Mona said, so we drove to Chico for Tea Smoked Duck and Gold Coin Beef at Dynasty Restaurant. When we returned to Camelot, we spent the evening on the veranda, talking and watching the stars. Shortly after midnight, as we were climbing into bed, flood lights flashed on, illuminating the entire place. Hearts pounding, we scrambled to a window, but could see no one. We decided a deer or raccoon, wandering around the hills, tripped one of the light-motion switches outside the cottage.

The excitement over, we spent a peaceful night cuddled under a warm comforter in the spacious bed. When the sun came up over the edge of the buttes, we were awakened to another spectacular view of the canyon. After breakfast, we drank a last cup of coffee at the kitchen table before heading out of the hills. As we drove through the valley on the way to my class reunion, I wanted to go back for another day. I knew we couldn’t. We were out of time and the place was booked until next year. But we would return. We had experienced the joys of Camelot, east of Chico and a little west of Paradise.

For more information on Camelot, contact owners Bill and Kathleen Bowen, 2803 Eskin Maidu Trail, Chico, Calif. 95928, (916) 343-9164; the Chico Visitor and Information Bureau or the Chico Chamber of Commerce, 500 Main St., Chico, Calif. 95928, (916) 891-5556.

Weekend Budget

Lunch, Sierra Nevada Brewing Co.: $16.00

Dinners, Dynasty restaurant: 48.00

One night at Camelot: 160.00

Gas from Thousand Oaks: 40.00

FINAL TAB: $264.00