A past that’s very present in Santa Cruz

Pull up to the Babbling Brook Inn, and you wouldn’t necessarily know this is where Ohlone Indians lived centuries ago, fishing in a nearby stream and hunting elk in the hills. But soon the past begins to appear — remnants of an old Spanish adobe, a gristmill, a tannery and a 1909 log cabin.

The property was turned into an inn in 1981 and renovated a few years ago. Thirteen rooms are built around a natural waterfall. In a lean-to on the site of our bedroom, Jesse Grant wrote a biography of his father, Ulysses, the 18th president of the United States.

The history was great. The food was even better. We rose to the delicious scent of banana pancakes and sausage one morning, mushroom-Swiss cheese frittata and apple crisp another. Mom declared them the best food of the trip.

Which was good, because the trip was for her. My mother, Bobbe, and my father, Royal, had known we would be in different places on Mother’s Day, so last month we celebrated early with a weekend in Santa Cruz. Our mission: to look at this funky beach city’s interesting mix of past and present, exploring historic spots such as Wilder Ranch State Park, originally the main rancho supplying Santa Cruz Mission, and still-evolving places such as the Babbling Brook Inn and Pacific Avenue, where new restaurants and shops are changing the face of downtown.

On the drive north from L.A. Friday night, we stopped at one of our favorite restaurants, the Sandbar and Grill in Monterey. We enjoyed sautéed Monterey Bay sand dabs and delicious clam chowder. In honor of our early Mother’s Day, we split an order of Mom’s favorite, fresh strawberry shortcake.

Ranch life in an earlier era

After checking in and spending our first night at the Babbling Brook, we woke up Saturday morning to a blue sky and billowing clouds. First stop: Santa Cruz Mission.

The mission, founded in 1791, was the 12th in the California chain. The 1931 building is a smaller replica of the original church, but it still managed to evoke the atmosphere of old California with its 18th century stone baptistery font, bits of the original red, blue and orange paint still visible.

Henry Cowell State Park, 20 minutes from the mission, promised a flat walking trail that winds through old-growth redwoods. Mom uses a cane, so this walk was doable. We had wandered in the wilderness for less than a mile when an unexpected cloudburst sent us scrambling to the car.

We moved on to Wilder Ranch State Park, also a 20-minute drive; its weekend demonstrations of life a century ago were in full swing under drier skies. I had long wanted to see the park because of its restored Victorian farmhouse and costumed re-creations of country living. I thought a visit might bring back happy memories for my mother of her grandmother’s Ohio home.

The ranch stands, like so much in the area, on land formerly occupied by the Ohlone. Dairy entrepreneur D.D. Wilder purchased the land in 1871 and turned over the ranch to son Melvin and his wife, Lettie, in 1896. Melvin, an engineer, and his father installed Pelton waterwheels that powered everything from electric fans in the kitchen to drill presses in the wood shop, making it a successful state-of-the-art operation.

Docents in 19th century costumes were instructing young volunteers in the art of plowing and planting. A heavy metal harrow with harnesses for two horses lay nearby.

“Did they actually use that to prepare the field?” I asked docent Joe Pedota, one of the volunteers who leads tours on weekends.

“Yep,” he said. “They do everything the hard way here.”

The park, established in 1974, includes three ranch houses, a horse barn, dairy barn and outbuildings on 7,000 acres. Pedota showed us the empty horse barn, which still smelled of hay, and the dairy barn, which can house 200 cows. It was built so sturdily, with tongue-in-groove woodwork and wooden pegs, that not even the 1989 Loma Prieta quake brought it down.

In the workshop, Pelton waterwheels still drive all the machinery. Also on the premises is part of an 1840 adobe roofed with tile appropriated from the mission.

“Do you know why all the tiles are a different size?” Pedota asked.

Answer: The tiles were made by women who molded the clay forms over their thighs.

The children’s play area included metal hoops, stilts and a bubble maker consisting of a pail of soapy water and rope loops. Two boys competed with the rolling hoops.

“I used to do that,” my father told the boys’ father. “Who says you need television?”

We toured the downstairs of an 1890s farmhouse, built by various members of the Wilder family. Another farmhouse, built in 1859 and damaged in the ’89 quake, isn’t open to the public; the third, built in 1948, is a visitor center.

Beyond the houses is a beautiful walk along the bluffs toward the sea — another good choice for my mother.

Food worth the trip

The sea air sharpened our appetites, so we drove to the Santa Cruz pier for lunch at Gilda’s, built in 1879. My lightly battered calamari was perfectly cooked and tender. My dad enjoyed his shrimp cocktail and clam chowder, but Mother was less enthusiastic about her crab Louie, accompanied by a surprising array of ingredients, including kidney beans.

That night, however, my mother did like her prime rib at Shadowbrook Restaurant in nearby Capitola. The restaurant is built as an architectural waterfall that cantilevers down a hillside above Soquel Creek. It’s so steep we had to take a funicular to reach it, but the food — sauteed shrimp for my father, filet mignon for me — was worth it.

Between meals we had spent the afternoon on Pacific Avenue, where I wanted to buy a Mother’s Day present. Pacific, largely rebuilt since the ’89 quake, has a split personality. The shops run to up-market boutiques, but the crowd runs the gamut: well-dressed shoppers and shabbily attired street people, yuppies and hippies, students and seniors.

Chains stores are moving in on longtime merchants, but the town’s independent streak is still evident. Down the street from Borders you’ll find Bookshop Santa Cruz flourishing. Across from Baja Fresh, the Mexican restaurant in the old Palomar Hotel is packed.

Art glass and jewelry shops abound. We checked out the Vault Gallery and Artisans Gallery before my mother discovered a bead and pendant shop called Bead It, which had a huge selection. Together we chose the pieces for a unique necklace, a lasting reminder of this Mother’s Day.