The Hidden Coast Northern Californians Don’t Want You to Know About

It’s not easy being a Southern Californian. You know, the air, the crime, the traffic, having to claim the Dodgers as kin. But there are compensations, and one of the greatest is that we get to exploit the living daylights out of the rest of the state. Their water, their crops, their lumber.

And let’s not forget their weekend secrets. For decades, San Franciscans and their suburban neighbors have been quietly passing Saturdays and Sundays in the wind-swept, mist-soaked towns of underpopulated western Marin County. Strolling beside the waves at Stinson Beach. Looking down on placid Tomales Bay from the warm firesides of Inverness. Leaning into the wind to watch the Pacific pulverize the rocks beneath the Point Reyes Lighthouse.

But when their Sundays wane, the Bay Areans have to pack up their Subarus and crawl back across the Golden Gate Bridge to another work week. And it is then that the shrewd Southern Californian should strike.

While the people in The City toil, we Southern Californians take a week off, fly into San Francisco International Airport, steer the rental car north for an hour or so, and fall into a cycle of great repose. We sleep in otherwise empty bed and breakfasts, sift for sand dollars on lonely beaches, hike alone on mossy wilderness paths. We dine in uncrowded restaurants, making our way home on two-lane roads, braking only for deer. And we share this Ireland-with-hot-tubs landscape with only about 11,000 residents, spread among 13 towns.

Granted, Marin’s marine end isn’t quite that empty every week. Rangers at Point Reyes National Seashore area counted 2.6 million visitors in 1992, most of them in January (when whales are migrating southward), March (when the whales are returning north) and thesunny months of July and August. But in spring and fall, local folks will concede under questioning, the pace slows pleasurably. In winter, it slows even further. On two of the four nights my wife and I passed there in late February, we were the only guests in our lodgings. “Of our California business, I’d say easily 70% comes from the Bay Area, and others come from all over the state,” says Harmony Grisman, executive director of the West Marin Chamber of Commerce. Instead of setting their sights on Marin County, Grisman theorizes, many Southern Californians “think of San Francisco, and they think of the wine country, and maybe they think of the big tree area and Mendocino.”

Which leaves those of us in West Marin plenty of room for what we do best: northern exploitation.

Once you follow California 101 north across the Golden Gate Bridge, city trappings begin to fall away. On California 1 (Shoreline Highway), the narrow, meandering path down the low slopes of Mt. Tamalpais, they vanish entirely. The reward for that hour of demanding driving is Stinson Beach.

The population is estimated at anywhere from 800 to 1,500. The beach, white and wind-raked, stretches three miles. And the commercial center of town, a few yards from the beach, takes up no more than two blocks along the highway.

The choices are simple. If you can afford $125 a night, you probably stay at the stylish Casa del Mar, a block uphill from the highway, and get a purple pansy on your melon at breakfast. If you can afford $50, you book into the Spartan, funky Stinson Beach Motel, right on the highway. You can browse the bookstores (one new, one used) or a couple of art galleries, or the New Age-flavored gift shop.

For dinner, you probably duck into the Stinson Beach Grill, an old wooden house with a wood-burning stove in the dining room and jazz from the 1940s on its sound system. It is the best-regarded eatery in town, and our meal there was served up with a sideshow of animal behavior and West Marin priorities.

Taking my order for crab cakes, our waitress interrupted herself to trot to the front window and greet Sparky, a sheep dog affiliated with a local couple also dining in the restaurant. Later, by the rear door, the cook paused to watch Jake (the restaurant cat) vie with a wild fox for that evening’s salmon snack at the dumpster. A few weeks before, the waitress told us, an opossum snuck into the restaurant and led the entire crew on a chase around a full dining room. A veritable wild kingdom--and excellent crab cakes, too.

After dinner, you take a drink at the Sand Dollar across the street. Here gather the locals, and a stranger can eavesdrop as one man staggers in telling tales of tequila in Mexico, and a woman divulges that she dated Herbie Hancock in high school. When the bartender there discovered that we were from Los Angeles, instead of sneering she volunteered directions to a wilderness trail that begins just above the Casa del Mar.

While my wife slept in the next morning, I rose early to take that trail. Lots of moss and shrubbery. A busy creek. Some mud from recent rains. And a great canopy of greenery, shot through with shafts of early sunlight. At the bottom of the trail, I found the bartender out for a stroll with her grad-school daughter and a shaggy dog. The world needs more such bartenders.

After breakfast, my wife and I walked the beach, and counted seven other people, along with several dozen shorebirds that scurried seaward when the tide receded, then retreated, then scurried, then retreated. Eventually we retreated, too.

The next stop is a little more complicated. Bolinas is a fine little town a few miles north of Stinson Beach, but you won’t find it if you trust to the road signs. The locals--a tourism-scorning community of 1,500 or so well-settled hippies and alternative lifestylers--keep stealing the sign that announces their city. They’ve also published a directory of local businesses that would provoke cold sweats at most Chambers of Commerce: The brochure never discloses the name of the city that houses these businesses. “Discovery is the hard part,” says its first page.

So if you’re not captivated by well-weathered, semi-covert counter-culturalism, stay on the highway, bypass the town and enjoy the roadside view of the Bolinas Lagoon. Millions have. If you are interested, consult your map, try not to look too much like a tourist, and make the unmarked left about two miles north of Stinson.

Then, when you get to town, park immediately (both of the town’s principal streets are dead ends, and it doesn’t take much to tangle traffic in downtown Bolinas) and investigate on foot. The Women’s Craft Collective (incense inside). The bustling Bolinas Bay Bakery & Cafe (no smoking). The community bulletin board, with the psychedelic laundromat ad. The bearded men, the languorous dogs, the woman on the sidewalk with fruit and newspapers bound to her clothes for no discernible reason. And the local newspaper (The Bolinas Hearsay News, which is photocopied and usually available in the bakery, whose classified section offers cow manure, firewood and a green 1975 AMC Hornet with new ignition wires and “body somewhat abstract.”

This is not quite hippie heaven. The give-what-you-can, take-what-you-need “freebox” that opened in the 1970s has been closed lately, owing apparently to community inattention. But the rainbow-hued recycling center and co-op are going like gangbusters next door. The lagoon, the green hills and a good beach for beginning surfers are all at hand. On Wharf Road, Smiley’s Schooner Saloon & Hotel, founded 1851, bills itself as the oldest continuously operating saloon and hotel in California. Farther along, there’s a general store, a community museum, a couple of art studios and a pair of women’s clothing shops, looking, under the circumstances, rather suspiciously trendy.

From the Bolinas Lagoon, the Shoreline Highway continues north--running more or less along the San Andreas Fault--with Tomales Bay dead ahead. For the northbound driver, the wide-open spaces of Point Reyes National Seashore sprawl to the left, and the rolling country of Golden Gate National Recreation Area rises and falls to the right.

The landscape is what sets this sliver of land apart from the rest of California--a little farther apart from most of the state every year, in fact. Geologists note that while most of California sits on the North American Plate, the Point Reyes Peninsula--like Los Angeles and much of the Pacific Ocean--sits on the Pacific Plate, edging to northwest an inch or two or three a year, depending on which source you consult.

In the earthquake of 1906, the entire peninsula lurched about 20 feet northward, an event that is detailed along the markered Earthquake Trail near the National Seashore’s Bear Valley Visitor Center. It’s a daunting thing to stand on a hill there, look out across Tomales Bay and the San Andreas Fault at the rest of thecountry, and think you’re on an island that’s only temporarily attached to North America. Then again, maybe we in Southern California ought to be thinking that every time we look east . . . nah.

The seashore territory’s principal landmark is the Point Reyes Lighthouse, an outpost atop rock cliffs on a site that rangers describe as the windiest point on the Pacific Coast, and the second-foggiest point, after Nantucket, on the continent. The lighthouse, built in 1870, ceased active service in 1975, and is now maintained by the National Park Service and neighbored by cypress trees that clutch like witches’ fingers against the hillside. From high ground there and elsewhere, visitors can see the surf pounding desolate beaches for miles, and imagine the great white sharks said to congregate in those waters.

Inland, black and white cows by the thousand lounge on deep green hills. Under agreement with federal officials, dairy ranchers lease about 21,000 of the park’s roughly 60,000 acres.

All that space is the key to West Marin’s enduring rustic nature. Even beyond state and federal lands, growth is tightly controlled and the area’s agricultural character is protected. While the rest of coastal California was exploding with new development in the 1980s, census figures show that the population of West Marin grew less than 4% between 1980 and 1990.

Thus the town of Olema--a hotbed of civilization in the 1860s, with two hotels, six bars and a stagecoach stop--today remains little more than a crossroads and a handful of buildings.

A bit further north, Inverness, so named because it reminded an early settler of Scotland, is by comparison expansive. Wedged into the heavily wooded foothills on the southern fringe of Tomales Bay, Inverness includes several bed and breakfast operations, several more restaurants, and about 2,000 residents. Inverness Park, just up the road, plumps the numbers a bit further.

Travelers know Point Reyes Station, a few miles inland from Tomales Bay along the Shoreline Highway, by its commercial strip: art galleries, a Mexican restaurant, a bakery, bookshop, nursery, antique shop. It’s perhaps an hour’s stroll if you linger to read the listings in the real estate office window (Don’t get your hopes up; it’s coastal Southern California all over again), and make a one-block detour to the old creamery building, where the Point Reyes Light newspaper and the West Marin Chamber of Commerce are housed. (The Chamber of Commerce offers brochures and advice to travelers.) The population is just under 700. Like the other towns of West Marin, Point Reyes Station is tiny, artsy without too much attitude, and potentially habit-forming.

Dave Mitchell, editor and co-publisher of the Point Reyes Light, stands as a 6-foot-4-inch example. Mitchell and his former wife bought the 4,300-circulation paper in 1975, and soon after launched a campaign to expose misdeeds of the mysterious and growing Synanon organization. In 1979, the tiny Light triumphed over the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times and others to win the Pulitzer Prize for public service for its dissection of Synanon. When the couple divorced and sold the Light a few years later, Mitchell took a job as a reporter with the San Francisco Examiner.

But he couldn’t stay away. In 1984, two years after selling the newspaper, Mitchell returned to Point Reyes and bought the weekly back. Nine years later, remarried and settled into a house with a hot tub on a hill, Mitchell remains. Six days a week, he holds court at the Station House Cafe, listening for next week’s stories and fielding questions and complaints about last week’s.

“See that white building there?” he asked one afternoon, pointing to a white house down the street from his office. “That was the only whorehouse this town has ever had.”

And then Mitchell was off into detailed, exuberant explanations of local history, local politics, local geology, his favorite hikes and so on. For the record, he recommends the Palomarin Trail from Bolinas to Alamere Falls, which crash to the sandy shore from a high rocky bluff.

Mitchell had further suggestions, but West Marin’s natural wonders make a long list, and I will add only one more entry here.

Several miles north of the Point Reyes Lighthouse, at the peninsula’s northwestern tip, is the seashore’s 2,600-acre Tule Elk Refuge, a bluff-top area covered by thick grasses that ripple in the strong wind.

One day, hiking along the Tomales Point Trail through the refuge area, we spotted a pair of deer, saw two skunks, and we grunted hello to a score of fellow hikers. But we saw not one elk. After about six miles, we gave up, slunk back to our car at the trail head, and heard a rustling sound.

It was hooves, scraping against thick grass. Dumbstruck at our car doors, we watched three dozen elk dash across the parking lot entrance, antlers flashing down a gully, up a rise and into memory.

That’s the risk to bear in mind when traveling in Northern Californian territories: Just when you think you have their habits figured out, they’ll cross you.

West Marin Lodging Guide

Those who venture into West Marin County are forsaking the world of Hyatts and Holiday Inns.

Instead, visitors will find inns, guest houses and bed-and-breakfasts of all kinds, and in many of them, helpful hosts, charming antiques and homey atmosphere. A traveler should not, however, expect standard hotel conveniences. Of four B&B; rooms my wife and I slept in during February, one offered a television; none had telephones. The happiest travelers in West Marin arrive with this in mind, and do not attempt to remain in daily contact with the office or Dan Rather.

The listings below begin with four unscien tifically chosen places where my wife and I stayed, followed by several places I looked through. All the prices below are for a double room, and exclude Marin County’s 10% tax on lodgings. Most lodgings have a two-might minimum for Friday-Saturday stays. And be sure to ask about children: Many B&B;’s are reluctant to house them.

* Casa del Mar (37 Belvedere Ave., Stinson Beach 94970; 415-868-2124). A villa-style, two-story building at the foot of Mt. Tamalpais, the Casa del Mar has an elaborate garden and an innkeeper, Rick Klein, who makes first-rate breakfasts while guests sit at a long blond-wood table. Bright colors, splashy works by local artists on the walls, half a block walk to the shops and restaurants of tiny downtown Stinson Beach. Four rooms, a bit shy on storage space. Rates: $100-$225.

* Roundstone Farm (9940 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Olema 94950; 415-663-1020) The setting is a 10-acre horse farm, but the inside of the B&B; is more roomy and tidy than ranchy. Breakfast is served in an informal dining room downstairs, next to a spacious living room with bookshelves, couches and green valley views. Five rooms. Rates: $115-$125.

* Hotel Inverness (25 Park Ave., Inverness 94937; 415-669-7393) Once a four-story hotel, this 1906 shingle-walled place has over the years been renovated down to two stories and five rooms. (A handsome white stairwell on the second floor leads nowhere.) The bold interiors--one room has red walls, another yellow, another blue--were designed by co-owner Susie Simms. Rooms are smallish, but space is very well used and atmosphere is wonderfully woodsy. One quibble: when breakfast was delivered to our room, the only table to put it on was so low that we had to sit on the floor to eat. Rates: $100-$115.

* Carriage House (P.O. Box 1239, Point Reyes Station 94956; 415-663-8627). Set in a residential neighborhood, the Carriage House resembles a remodeled suburban garage: box shape, undistinguished style, one suite downstairs, one upstairs. But for a weeklong stay, the place could be family-friendly: Each suite is really a one-bedroom apartment with fully outfitted kitchen, wood-burning stove and windows that let in lots of morning light. Children welcome. First warning: the property is being offer for sale ($845,000 for the two suites and a larger separate home on a roomy lot), so status could change. Rates: $100 without breakfast, $120 with.

Among other options in West Marin:

* Manka’s Inverness Lodge (P.O. Box 1110, Inverness 94937; 415-669-1034). A 1917 hunting lodge, now a bed-and-breakfast and restaurant. Rooms look like they’ve been ordered from an old Eddie Bauer catalogue, and feature log furniture and antique radios. Eight rooms, four cottages. Rates: $95-$160.

* Stinson Beach Motel (Box 64, Stinson Beach 94970; 415-868-1712). Nothing fancy here. Six small, basic, clean rooms with strictly functional furniture. Good location on main drag, but might be vulnerable to traffic noise. Rates: $50-$65.

* Olema Inn (10000 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Olema 94950; 415-663-9559) Opened July 4, 1876, restored in 1988. Antique furniture, top-notch restaurant downstairs, cars from nearby country crossroads occasionally audible. Six rooms. Rates: $85-$105.

* Point Reyes Seashore Lodge (P.O. Box 39, Olema 94950; 415-663-9000). The lodge is not historic--it’s not quite 5 years old--but is done up in attractive woods and placed near the national seashore entrance. With 21 rooms, it looks more like a hotel than a B&B;, but breakfast is included. Rates: $85-$175.

* Smiley’s Schooner Saloon and Hotel (41 Wharf Road, Bolinas 94924; 415-868-1311). The perfect answer if you drink too much some night in Bolinas. A budget alternative with character. Four rooms, no breakfast. In operation since 1851, the place claims to be the oldest continuously operating saloon and hotel in California. Rates: $49.50-$69.50.

Three lodging services operate as clearinghouses for dozens more inns and cottages of widely varied prices. Coastal Lodging Point Reyes National Seashore: (415) 485-2678. Inns of Point Reyes: (415) 485-2649. West Marin Network: (415) 663-9543.

GUIDEBOOK

High Points of the Hidden Coast

Getting there: United, USAir and Delta fly nonstop from LAX to San Francisco International Airport, with cheapest restricted round-trip tickets starting at $98. American flies direct, with a stop in San Jose, for comparable fares. For those flying in, it makes sense to rent a car at the airport. Downtown Point Reyes Station lies about 50 miles north of the Golden Gate Bridge, an hour’s drive via Highway 101 and Francis Drake Boulevard, or a 90-minute drive on more scenic Shoreline Highway (California 1), which runs through Stinson Beach.

Where to eat: Manka’s Inverness Lodge and Restaurant (P.O. Box 1110, Inverness 94937; 415-669-1034). Excellent service, elegant setting, menu that includes quail and boar. Dinner entrees: $16-$21.

Olema Inn (10000 Sir Francis Drake Blvd., Olema 94950; 415-663-9559). First-rate food and service in a 117-year-old building. Dinner entrees: $13.50-$17.50.

Stinson Beach Grill (3465 Shoreline Highway, Stinson Beach 94970; 415-868-2002). Modest appearance, great food with Southwestern overtones. Dinner entrees: $10.95-$15.50.

Inverness Inn Restaurant (Sir Francis Drake Boulevard, Inverness 94937; 415-669-1109) Good lunches, set along the road to the lighthouse. Dinner entrees: $10.50-$15, pasta starts at $7.95.

The Gray Whale (Inverness; 415-669-1244). Tasty pizza and patio views of Tomales Bay. Lunches and dinners: $5-$15.

Station House Cafe (Main Street, Point Reyes Station; 415-663-1515). Food unremarkable, but it’s the main gathering place in Point Reyes Station, and it’s kid-friendly. Dinner entrees: $7-$15.

Bolinas Bay Bakery & Cafe (20 Wharf Road, Bolinas; 415-868-0211). Sourdough herb baguettes, mushroom croissants, raspberry-poppyseed coleslaw, and so on. Open for dinner in spring and summer. Dinner entrees: $7-$10.

Taqueria La Quinta (Shoreline Highway, Point Reyes Station; 415-663-8868). Informal Mexican. Lunches: $3-$7. Closes at 8 or 9 p.m.

For more information: Contact the West Marin Chamber of Commerce (P.O. Box 1045, Point Reyes Station, Calif. 94956, 415-663-9232); Point Reyes National Seashore’s Bear Valley Visitor Center (415-663-1092), or the Point Reyes Lighthouse Visitor Center (415-669-1534).