Carmel Valley, a hideaway east of Eden

I saw it in his eyes. He caught it in mine. It strikes every few months. That desire to go, go now, before we change our minds.

Our usual remedy: to hit Highway 1 heading north, engine full throttle, for 325 miles. Our usual destination: a region John Steinbeck chronicled as “The Pastures of Heaven.”

Carmel Valley is our beloved hideout. My husband, Brian, and I have vanished into these hills at least twice a year for the last decade and been lucky enough to stay at many of the area’s top hotels, including stately Stonepine and laid-back Los Laureles.

But Carmel Valley Ranch suits us best. Every guest room is a suite that feels more like a countryside condo than a hotel: 650 to 1,200 square feet, with two wood-burning fireplaces, fresh flowers, a Jacuzzi tub and warm cookies at bedtime. Craving this kind of gentle, genteel warmth, we departed for the resort again one Friday morning in May.

Like clockwork, just past San Simeon, Brian started imagining the triple-berry pie at Nepenthe, the landmark Big Sur bar, cafe and gift shop on property once owned by Orson Welles and Rita Hayworth. After a brief stop for pie and tea, we continued north on Highway 1 to Carmel Valley Road.

Seven miles inland from the hordes of Carmel’s touristy village, Carmel Valley is a place apart: bucolic, still surprisingly rural, lovely in any season. Ranches, vineyards and nurseries outnumber golf courses. Try as it might, the fog rarely creeps into this pass, leaving unobscured the Santa Lucia Mountains and oaks draped with Spanish moss. Here, where designer dairies churn chevre and ersatz French chateaux produce Cabernet, flocks of wild turkeys still saunter the paths of luxury lodges. I once spied a wildcat by a barn in broad daylight.

An organic experience

We entered Carmel Valley Ranch’s gated private road as the retreating sun left a hint of red on the hills. The 144-unit resort was built in 1987 across 1,700 acres that include three restaurants, a Pete Dye golf course, tennis courts (hard, grass and clay), two pools and a scattering of outdoor hot tubs.

We were granted (as requested) a corner unit, which had a big wraparound deck and views of the valley and fairways. The presence of deer under our deck at dawn and dusk was a highlight; the animals are unofficial resort mascots present in daylight too, seen contentedly grazing along the golf course.

Room rates vary weekend to weekend, depending on season and availability. Packages that include spa treatments or golf often are the best deals. We paid $195 plus tax nightly for a golf package, but prices for rooms alone can rise to $400.

A daily $20 resort fee is automatically added to the bill to cover gratuities for bellmen, housekeepers, the concierge and tennis and golf staff -- everyone except the kitchen servers. Some people object to such fees, which are increasingly common at high-end resorts. But here, the fee is truly earned by -- and passed along to -- a young, on-their-toes staff.

After our long drive, we looked forward to dinner at the casual Corkscrew Cafe, about five miles east of the resort on Carmel Valley Road. Locals treasure this rustic, bloom-shrouded outpost, with its quirky Corkscrew Museum collection displayed in the restaurant and adjoining wine-tasting room.

As we sat down to candlelight, a petite plate of hummus, diced cucumber, red pepper, Spanish onion and crostini appeared. We shared a romaine-and-shaved Parmesan salad and then chose from an urbane daily menu of 10 main courses. We skipped the chef’s signature dish, tequila- and lime-cured salmon, in favor of a tender cowboy steak with crispy red potatoes, balsamic red onions and roasted mushrooms for Brian, and pan-seared halibut in a fresh leek broth, served with baby artichoke, asparagus and tomatoes, for me. Strawberry-rhubarb pie had a leaden crust but was redeemed by fragrant, homemade vanilla-bean ice cream.

Though Brian had skipped the 5-pound wine list, which included local Bernardus Merlot, Jouillian Cabernet and Talbott Chardonnay (he chose beer from the Czech Republic instead), he is a bit of a wine snob. Mercifully for me, he’s no fan of winery tours. Tomato tasting is more his style.

So Saturday morning we headed for Earthbound Farm, open to the public for nature walks, cooking demonstrations and seasonal festivals. At the time of our visit, the Farm Stand shop -- closed for the season now but reopening April 22, Earth Day -- was stocked with just-plucked organic produce, juices and baked treats. It’s a favorite source of baby vegetables among Northern California chefs and a prime introduction to Carmel Valley’s countrified realm.

A pair of fresh-from-college New Yorkers began Earthbound Farm in 1984 with 2 1/2 acres and a roadside raspberry stand. Today the farm produces more than 100 kinds of certified organic salads, fruits and vegetables for sale across the country.

Ever hear of a tangerine tomato? Me neither. With bales of hay for benches, we sat down to sample it and other heirloom varieties. Nearby, a gaggle of girls got messy making cornhusk dolls, part of the farm’s children’s workshops, while their parents consulted shopping lists and loaded up baskets.

I wanted to explore nearby Garland Ranch Regional Park, and Brian wanted lunch. So we bagged some Greek salad and herb focaccia at the stand and drove five miles to the 4,500-acre park.

Set in a sweeping meadow along the willow-lined banks of the Carmel River, trails for walkers and equestrians weave high into the Santa Lucias. Red-tailed hawks spiraled above fields of blue lupine and groves of sycamore and sage. Where a rusting 1940s tractor rested behind a ghostly barn -- relics from when Garland was a lively working ranch -- I got a sense of what this land had been like. Pastures of heaven, indeed. Even after a brisk two-hour walk, we were reluctant to leave.

Kicking back by the fire

Saturday night found us at Hidden Valley, a music institute a few miles east of our resort in Carmel Valley. The elite 40-year-old organization is devoted to developing young musicians, actors and dancers. The school offers chamber music, jazz and dance performances throughout the year.

I had reserved tickets for one of its rare full-scale productions, a version of “La Boheme” in English. Staged with the help of San Francisco Opera wizards, conductor Randall Behr led a rousing performance with full orchestra and chorus in the 300-seat theater in the round.

Though one would think an evening at the opera might inspire elegant dining, nothing sounded better to us than room service by the fire. We kicked off our shoes, donned cushy hotel robes, ordered goat cheese-and-basil pizza and popped the tops on bottles of Perrier. (Every suite is equipped with a coffee and tea maker, mini bar and toaster. For $3, the hotel also will provide a microwave, dishes and cutlery for light in-room cooking, though I doubt many guests partake.) Our dinner arrived crisp and hot, my husband lighted the bedroom hearth, and I hid the remote.

Sunday morning, Brian had an early tee time, but I slumbered on. We eventually met at the resort’s Club Grille. Over fresh-squeezed orange juice, he regaled me with the golf course’s finer points: “A relatively flat front nine along the riverbank, then there’s a dramatic fairway elevation....” When he finished, I paused politely, then suggested, “Let’s go shopping.”

Checkout was smooth, and though I hated to go, we had a little time to investigate the wares at artist Jan de Luz’s eponymous Carmel Valley emporium.

In 1980, after buying an antique weaving machine and loads of vintage fabric, De Luz researched the material and discovered its origin: cattle blankets used by French ranchers since the 18th century. Woven from soft linen, the cattle “coats” held greater symbolism: The larger the stripes, the richer the cattleman. When those original fabrics had disappeared, De Luz re-created them by the traditional methods. He also continued designing housewares and collecting antiques. The store brims with old ornate furniture, fireplaces, fountains, doors and gates culled from Europe.

I could have wasted hours, but time ran short. After one last stop at Earthbound Farm for fresh ginger cookies -- fuel for the long ride home -- we said farewell to our hideout until the fever strikes again.

*

Budget for two

Actual expenses for this trip:

Carmel Valley Ranch, Two nights, including golf, resort fee, tax $470.96

Snacks, Nepenthe $16.00

Dinner, Corkscrew Cafe $81.27

Lunch, Earthbound Farm $14.95

Concert tickets, Hidden Valley $80.00

Dinner, Room service $29.00

Breakfasts, Two days, at hotel $31.53

Gas $35.20

Final tab $758.91

CONTACT: Carmel Valley Ranch, a Wyndham Luxury Resort, 1 Old Ranch Road, Carmel, CA 93923; toll-free reservations (877) 999-3223, hotel information (831) 625-9500, fax (831) 624-2858, www.wyndham.com.