California Coast: A Roadtrip at the Dawn of Corona
By Robin Fisher Roffer and Roxy RofferOutrunning The Virus on the California Coast
On a sunny Santa Fe morning following a routine check-up, I asked my primary care doc the best way to stay safe flying to Los Angeles. I was picking up my daughter Roxy at USC the next day and I wanted to protect myself from The Corona Virus. I was open-mouth-surprised when he said, “Do NOT get on that plane.” Say, what? He added, “You could drive.”
It was 9am when I left his office on March 12, 2020. I dismissed the idea. It was a 12 hour drive from Santa Fe to LA. Who was I kidding? And then my client called and let me off the hook for a four hour conference call. Being spiritual myself, I thought of it as a sign. She said, “Go, get on the road, keep you and your daughter safe.”
I went into action frantically packing and arranging to have someone dog-sit our beloved Goldendoodle Rufus. By noon I was out the door and on my way. Behind the wheel I started to relax, “Ah, the wide open road,” I thought to myself, “I can do this.” Truth be told, I was an airport-to-hotel gal and never had actually driven myself more than three hours in my life. I was a little out of my depth. But onward.
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Years ago, after my divorce, my daughter Roxy and I made a pact. We decided to forego a few of life’s fleeting luxuries and use the savings to travel the world. I’d traveled globally for years in my business, but that wasn’t what I had in mind for Roxy. I sent her to great schools. Still, I thought, I needed to give her something no other school or educator could. As of today, Roxy and I have been to over 40 countries together, sampling the simple and the sumptuous in some of the world’s most alluring places. And it has been an education for both of us—above all, in mother/daughter bonding.
Four months ago, when Spring break was approaching, I presented Roxy with two possible vacation ideas: one of Cuba and the other for Panama. But Roxy had a different trip in mind. She had said, “Mom, instead of flying hours and hours and spending tons of money, why don’t we take a foodie road trip up the coast of California?” Half-thinking of USC tuition bills, I said, “Great idea, Roxy!” And so we began weeks and weeks of planning an ‘uh-mazing’ itinerary. Which proved prescient, as we soon began to hear from friend after friend cancelling long-planned trips to Italy, Thailand, Japan, Mexico and other far-flung destinations.
Five hours into my marathon drive, I found myself munching on gluten-free pizza and sipping a nice red, at a little Dean Martin-style Italian place called Oregano in Flagstaff. Next morning, I drove through the huge nothing known as Arizona. I passed Indian Fireworks stands, Trading Posts and huge plaster Dinosaurs. I braved snow storms and state troopers.
By the time I pulled into the USC campus, the whole world had changed into something that was definitely not ‘uh-mazing.’ Coronavirus was racing across the country. USC wasn’t just going to send Roxy on Spring Break; she was going to be evacuated until the middle of April. Wasn’t it just yesterday that I moved Roxy in? We were a true couple of sad sacks, packing up her favorite outfits and accessories. But the sight of the shoes and bags and adorable clothes we left behind—and especially for Roxy, who was leaving so much more behind, including the pillars of her new and exciting college life—well, it was like leaving behind a time capsule for some future girl to find.
Roxy had the foresight, maybe even the psychic ability to know we wouldn’t be able to travel abroad. But the news was telling us we may not even be able to travel across state lines. We could just turn around and drive the twelve hours back home and “shelter in place” in Santa Fe. Roxy declared, “Why? We’ve got this trip up the coast all planned. We can face the virus when we get back. So, we pulled onto the road. Even with the Virus always in the rearview mirror, and gaining on us, we surged forward on pure confidence. Still, something told me we weren’t just running away, we were in a sense running for our lives—the lives we had built all the years before a global pandemic started to take revenge on 2020.
Yet, oh, what lives we led for those precious days.
Republique in Los Angeles the night before it moved to take out only.
We started out by dining, not just eating, at Republique, on La Brea. Although we sensed, thank goodness we didn’t really know that that would be the last night eating out would be possible in LA. As it was, we joined the communal table and dug into our “last supper” of duck à l’orange, Brussels sprouts and halibut crudo. Every morsel was sensational. So far, the universe was looking out for us.
We wanted to sleep someplace full of comfort and safety. So, we drove to my friend Kim’s place, because she and her children were traveling in Tahiti and she had given me her security code. Exactly as we dropped our bags in Kim’s entry hall, the door swung open and there stood Kim and her children Sienna and Julian—one of my true ‘soul’ friends and two young adults that Roxy had grown up with. They had landed a day earlier than I had thought from idyllic Polynesia to this new foreign land of toilet paper hoarders, just seeing each other we all felt truly at home.
I piled in with Kim in her cloud of a bed and we drank wine and laughed a lot. Kim was in the first phase of mourning her husband and their children’s father, Jim, who had passed away after a long cancer battle just weeks before. Again, we’d been gifted exactly what we all needed. With no plan whatsoever. That night I was reminded of exactly why I love Kim so much—the beauty of her courage and the depth of her feeling.
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The next morning I silently wished Kim Godspeed, and Roxy and I were off. It poured rain. And the cases of Corvid-19 fell in waves, too. But it cleared just as we were pulling into the Rosewood Miramar in Santa Barbara. The elegant hotel felt deserted, its navy blue velvet banquettes, with their brass nail heads glinting, sat empty. The brown and cream carpets covered in hexagons were untrod. The Gone With the Wind staircase rose out of the black and white marble, almost begging, please, won’t someone climb us. We had lunch outside at Malibu Farm and invited Roxy’s close USC friend Claire to join us. I think seeing each other made them feel they weren’t alone with the suddenly empty schedules of their lives. Goodbyes were a little misty.
Next, we headed for Solvang in the San Inez Valley. Solvang is known for its ‘Little Denmark’ sensibility and architecture. Exactly the kind of kitsch our pandemic anxiety craved. European style streets, windmills, shops full of clogs. As we opened the door to Mortensen’s Danish Bakery, Roxy whispered, “I read about this one, Mom.” She chose a bear claw, fresh, perfectly flaky and precisely the right amount of almonds. Now, this was comfort pastry at a totally new level. And the choices were endless. We found Instagram-friendly murals of Danish boys asking Danish girls to dance, in native costume of course. We lost count of all the selfies we took.
Then, with just enough kitsch sugar in us, we struck out for San Luis Obispo, our base for the next two nights. We checked into The Kinney, a boutique hotel whose rooms look straight out of a dorm for surfers. Posters, the works. Comfy beds but… Roxy and I are not overly picky but we are seasoned travelers and we’d hoped for more hipness and this which felt, well, antiseptic.
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The contrast between the disappointing Kinney and The Madonna Inn, where we had dinner that night, couldn’t have been more striking. The dining room greets you in over the top fashion, literally, with a fairy-lit tree in the center of the room. Like us, most of the guests in the half-full dining room were dressed fancifully. One table of friends featured girls in pink and purple hair and guys in tiny bow ties and dinner suits. The girls were in crinoline skirts and faux furs stoles. Goth wedding party meets 1950’s? Madonna herself in her Galliano cone bra era would have felt right at home.
Of course, you want to know what we were wearing. I had chosen my leopard print coat and Roxy was in a blush pink puff body suit. The red leather and button-tufted pink velvet banquettes proved ideal for a few selfies. A live band played everything from “Rock Around the Clock” to Elvis’ “I Can’t Help Falling in Love with You.” The other guests were in sync and filled the dancefloor with polished moves. In other words, the ideal pre-pandemic time warp. So, in that spirit, we ordered surf and turf, very fancy cocktails and finished with pink champagne cake—the lightest of light white cake in layers infused with Bavarian cream, topped with pink chocolate curls. There are no words.
After dinner? Well, we shopped of course. But in the handy Madonna Inn boutique. I got Roxy an adorable leopard sleep slip. We clicked yet more selfies against a Gold Rush mural. Then, we took a vow not to post any of the pics to social media, as so many of our friends were in lockdown already in New York and Los Angeles. So, this was a bit of protected magic that we would have to savor on our own.
Morning began with a hike into the mountains in a soft rain. Roxy is the chief hiker and very good with maps. Where she led, I followed. All along the way we talked about Roxy’s friends, a boy she’d broken up with and, inevitably, the disease that was creeping ever closer even to this small town. The young guy at the desk said, “Only two cases here. So far.”
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Run, run, run. But for fuel first, we headed into SLO’s Historic District and stopped at Kreuzberg; it’s a bit of a hipster coffee shop, but it delivers the food goods. Roxy ordered avocado toast with a poached egg on top. Naughty and nice. I, on the other hand, went for full-on naughty—a plate of scrambled eggs, cheese, sausage, avocado and Tater Tots. We washed it all down with, you guessed it, frothy Matcha Lattes.
Next up? CVS. Where we got a bottle of spray alcohol and two rolls of paper towels, no sanitizer or wipes available. Elsewhere, in the big cities, the scene was a bit more apocalyptic, with empty shelves on every big box store aisle. In San Luis Obispo it was more chill. Maybe that’s why we shivered just a bit as we contemplated how, already, even here, shortages were showing up. We began to hear shop owners say they’d probably have to close down soon.
However, unlike Apple and Urban Outfitters who’d shut all their stores, San Luis Obispo’s Junk Girls was hanging on. There we found handmade objects made from discarded items, like vintage 50’s and 60’s book covers repurposed to cover journals and a pair of earrings hammered out of old silver forks, both of which I had to have. Turns out the eponymous Junk Girls are a pair of 50-ish women, corporate refugees, one from EBay and the other from Netflix. From this emporium of unique imagination, we turned to Lululemon, where I snagged a bright red tennis skirt from the sale rack and Roxy found a cropped, sleeveless top in the ideal shade of moss green. (Sidenote on Roxy’s determination: She’s got the loveliest light olive complexion, so she was advised over and over, “you can’t wear green.” Oh, yeah? Roxy has made it her personal mission to find the shades of green she can wear. So there.)
Junk Girls in San Luis Obsisbo is a glorious hodge podge of artful found objects
Dinner that night was at Goshi, a Japanese café, that served us the umami-est rolls and potent sake. And then, the strictures of the pandemic came into more focus. With Governor Newsom closing all bars, restaurants and wineries, plus turning the whole Bay Area into a shelter at home zone, we punted, cancelling our Sausalito and Napa hotels and headed for Big Sur where we were booked into the experience hotel without parallel, the Post Ranch Inn, but for one night only. We booked into Ventana for two more nights, right across the road, and looked forward to contrasting the two resorts. Roxy would have the experience of a lifetime, I knew that much was guaranteed. Big Sur is just that powerful.
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Let me stop just a minute. Remember Kim? Ages ago as I worked through a guided journey into myself, I had spent my most valuable time at the Esalen Institute in Big Sur. And when I very first met Kim, informally, with other friends, we fell into a deep conversation and I said “You have to go to Esalen.” She and I didn’t see each other after that, even though we both knew we had truly clicked. Another fast forward (my life seems to be full of fast forwards!) and I am taking my mother, who, because of many circumstances, I didn’t really know very well, to Big Sur. She’d been there in the 60’s, dropped acid, had the whole mind-blowing experience along with the legendary people then gathering there. I wanted to revisit it with her and see how she felt about Big Sur now.
Envision this. There I am with my mother and about six other people in a stone tub filled with hot mineral water overlooking the Pacific, watching the whales roll and the sunset blaze, when I realize the woman sitting next to me is … you got it, Kim! We’d only met in person that one time and it had been many months since I practically commanded her to go to Esalen. And suddenly, she was right there with me. That’s the magic of Big Sur.
Social distancing at The Jade Pool at The Post Ranch Inn
Again, the weather cooperated and the rain stopped just as we pulled into Post Ranch Inn twelve miles north of Esalen. We slipped immediately into our bathing suits and slid into the infinity hot tub. There was not another soul in sight. It almost felt like the virus was doing us a favor, because there we floated in exquisite privacy, watching California condors soar above us and whales spout in the sea below. It was everything I could have hoped for Roxy. For those few hours, I was truly perfectly happy and at peace within.
Dinner after was another dream. In the completely glassed in room, high above the tree-line, we perched, sipping California wine, spooning up Bouillabaisse and fresh asparagus soup and finishing with jewel-like pieces of fresh-caught local trout. Roxy curled up into the cat-seat and leaned against the window overlooking the sea. The sunset was everything I could ever have hoped it would be. Roxy Zoomed with her sorority sisters for a while, all first bemoaning their fates, then laughing away. As I listened to that, I patted the bed and said, thank you, Big Sur (and Post Ranch Inn), you did it again.
The next morning we walked with two wild turkeys to breakfast. Over goat cheese and veggie frittatas we learned that Ventana, our across the street comparison resort, had closed. The pandemic had almost caught us.
But we had a couple more tricks up our sleeves.
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Roxy woke up to a photo of our hotel Post Ranch Inn on a friend’s Instagram. That image turned out to be posted by Sahar, a girl Roxy had met several times on campus at USC and always wanted to get to know better. Of course, we had to meet up immediately. Sahar explained how she’d been camping out in various places ever since evacuating USC and her father had finally put his foot down.
Sahar’s dad had said, “You’re booked into Post Ranch Inn for the night. You need a decent place to stay.”
“So here I am!” said Sahar brightly. And better yet, her brother, a senior at USC, was on his way to join her. Stirrings of a Trojans’ party!
As we stood midway between the Jade Pool and restaurant, Roxy filled Sahar in our travels. Then, she added that we had traveled all over the world together. Sahar listened intently and then said, “I’m obsessed with you two! I wish my mom and I had that kind of relationship.” She was wearing a straw hat that framed her exquisite eyes, which just happen to have the longest (natural!) lashes I’ve ever seen. She’s of Persian descent and I couldn’t take my eyes off her—gorgeous, standing there in just a long-sleeved black t-shirt, some joggers, trainers and THAT HAT, of course.
I invited Sahar to join us for sunset cocktails. Then, she headed off in one direction and Roxy and I turned toward our hike of the morning. We were soon dwarfed by the red woods and, when the forest cleared, meadows full of wildflowers at their peak. And all along the way we took in breathtaking views of the snow-capped mountains on one side and the glittering Pacific on the other. This was a world away from your local hiking trail through the park. Pausing, we took it all in from a wooden bench. Then, re-charged we found a huge chair created by an artist and laughed through our mini-photoshoot there. All of this, without ever stepping off the Post Ranch property. Amazing.
We returned to earth via the chef’s garden, where we bumped into a tall guy in striped conductors’ overalls who turned out to be the gardener himself. He invited us into the growing shed, where spread out before us were row upon row of seedlings under gentle lights. He showed us, with visible pride, the mushrooms he was growing, a few of which would wind up in our dinners that night. The whole experience left me craving my own chef’s garden and, heck, with our quarantine in Santa Fe looming, I thought to myself, yep, great project.
Like enchanted prisoners, we returned to the Jade Pool once more. There, we floated around the whole topic of The Virus and how it now looked as if it was going to last for months. Like I said, all through this extraordinary adventure, that pandemic was always part of our panorama. But, ever onward. We showered and were ready to go out the door, when Roxy had a light bulb moment and called Room Service to order the signature Ranch Dinner of a roasted chicken and veggies, which requires a two-hour lead time. That would await us after sunset margaritas and our chance to get to know the alluring Sahar more fully.
Sahar explained that her father and his young wife had recently had a baby, and, even though it seems most small children aren’t susceptible to the virus, and younger people generally experience milder cases (thank heavens), Sahar had decided she should keep her distance. All the better for us, as we sat there with her while the sun made the sky go from azure to magenta before sinking below the waves of the Pacific. It seemed that maybe this social distancing thing wouldn’t be quite so dull after all.
As I sat there taking in the view, my beautiful Roxy and her lively friend, I was struck by the memory of re-connecting with Kim in such a fateful way. I truly believe that when it comes to people connecting, there really are no accidents. It has happened, and keeps happening in my life, far too many times for me not to know something is at work in us. Travel is so exciting—the people you meet, the spontaneity, the thrill of connecting with someone from another part of the world and the deep conversations that are only had while on the road. And in Big Sur, all of this is multiplied to the zenith.
Before leaving the restaurant, we looked around and counted only one couple at a table. There were far more people preparing the food than those who would be eating it that night. And, as our cocktail server explained, after tonight, dining would be strictly in-room. Roxy had already put us in that groove with her room service inspiration. We walked back into our room to a fully set table, with salads composed of the same greens we had admired just a couple of hours earlier. A small iron skillet at each place was practically still sizzling with portions of root vegetables, again from the garden, and then there came the ceremony of the chicken’s unveiling. Out from under a silver dome and nested in a petite wooden crate, the signature dish emerged. Having hiked, soaked, and sipped, we were famished and this dinner was just as fabulous as I hope I’ve made it sound.
The comforting Ranch Dinner at Post Ranch Inn
Satiated, Roxy and I retired to enjoy the latest episode of “Love Is Blind,” a ridiculous reality show that involves couples meeting and falling love without ever have seen each other before. It’s a train wreck and we love it. The perfect way to fall asleep with a smile.
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Morning found us meeting Sahar and her brother for breakfast and even though we maintained our social distancing, their table was near enough for us to chat. But who wanted to talk when the plates before us held crispy bacon and brilliant tomato, avocado and cheddar omelets? We followed that with a shared bowl of chia pudding, sprinkled with coconut and berries. Savoring every morsel and moment, we both knew but didn’t say, this just might be our last restaurant experience for a long while.
With that prospect considered, we both got off our duffs, and headed for our morning hike. This took us to Julia Pfeifer Burns State Park which actually is too beautiful for words. I will tell you this: we passed rushing rivers as we climbed higher and higher. Finally, we reached the point where once again, we were suspended between sweeping views of the mountains on one side and the sea on the other. All of the plants had been replenished by the earlier rain and were resplendent. The sky was streaked with pure white clouds.
Roxy found a pile of boulders to perch on and spontaneously threw her arms up to the sky. For once, I was ready and caught the moment with a photo. That image says it all. We were peaceful, surrounded by perfection and it was reminding us of the joy of living. That moment will be in my phone, and in my mind’s eye, forever.
Returning, we stopped by Big Sur’s iconic McKay Waterfall, 80 feet of cascades shooting down to the sandy beach of a turquoise cove below. What a rare slice of paradise. We were determined not to break the enchantment, so as soon as we were back and in our bathing suits, we slipped into the Jade pool again, where we intended to stay until our checkout time. It was there that another non-coincidence coincidence happened. We caught back up with Sahar, but also met a couple named Lily and Joe—weekend refugees from their lives in the city.
Lily is a fashion PR agent and after seeing Roxy shine for a few minutes, Lily offered her an internship for the summer on the spot. There it was, something for Roxy to dream about for the future, even if summer seems iffy now. Meanwhile, Joe is a USC graduate, so that pretty much sealed the deal. We were all part of the USC Trojan family. No coincidences again.
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But the pandemic reality was closing in and hotels, restaurants and shops were closing all around us. The writing was on the wall. We began our return drive to Santa Fe. However, having driven through the unbelievable landscape of the southwest, I was determined for Roxy to have a great tour on the way home.
First, we drove down the coast to Paso Robles, passing rolling greenswards straight out of Ireland. Roxy exclaimed, “It’s Teletubbies Land!” And she was right, it looked like a scene from that TV favorite of her childhood. Luckily, the drive led us to a hotel that was open! La Bellesera Hotel and Suites. When we entered, the desk clerk was wearing surgical gloves and spraying down the front desk with sanitizing spray. With a shrug, he gave us his best room in the house, saying “Why not? No one else is using it.”
“The best room” was enormous and we found its Tuscan atmospherics endearing, if trying a little too hard. There was a hand-painted mural of vineyards surrounded by cypresses and overhung with Bougainvillea blooms, directly over the whirlpool tub. We giggled and were grateful for the mega-upgrade.
We dined on In and Out Burgers and asked the bartender for a bottle of Pinot Noir. He sent it straight away, throwing in a bottle of white wine as well. “Drink up ladies,” he said sadly, “This is my last night. we’re shutting up indefinitely at 9pm.” He sighed as he told us how happy his family would be to have Dad home, and at dinner time, no less. But he also worried about the financial future and being without a job he’d held for over a decade. Would it be waiting for him on the other side? Though the wine was lovely, we sighed right along with him.
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The next day we slipped out of California just before it closed its borders and drove six hours to Kingman, Arizona. We stopped at Kelso Dunes in the Mojave Desert for a hike before landing at a La Quinta Inn which was thankfully open, and a deal at $89 a night. We were a little surprised by the lobby, which was stripped of all furniture. Our room had been deep cleaned and sanitized. We pulled out the bottle of white that the bartender at La Bellesera had gifted us, settled back, lapped up another episode of “Love Is Blind,” then happily fell into a deep sleep.
Proud of our thriftiness at La Quinta, I decided our trip simply must end on a high note. So, I snagged a creekside cottage at L’Auberge Sedona. Lucky again, we were given our luxurious lodgings at half the usual rate. Roxy and I opened the sushi we had picked up at Whole Foods and sat on our private deck nibbling, while the creek’s white water rushed by. Re-charged with protein we decided to hike up to one of the world’s most photographed wonders, Devil’s Bridge. There was a lone teacher on sabbatical who volunteered to shoot a portrait of us on the iconic Bridge. All alone. Where usually there are many people jostling for their own perfect selfies, there we stood with not a living soul for miles around. Sedona was so empty, it felt as if we owned it. Social distancing can be a bore, but sometimes, it is a blessing. This was one of those times that travel can surprise you with.
Back at the hotel, just as we were finished bathing, our “Drop and Dash” L’Auberge dinner arrived at our door. Over filet mignon and crispy roasted salmon, Roxy and I reminisced about the last time we’d been in Sedona. The date was 9/11/01. The flight we were supposed to board for Paris never left the ground. All airports were closed. Sedona that day had been just as deserted as it was now. We realized we had only known Sedona in crises. But Sedona’s healing powers worked their magic on us. Again, there simply are no coincidences.
The stunning and scuptural Cathedral Rock in Sedona
Our last hike in Sedona was to Cathedral Rock, which looked a bit too daunting for our not-so-rugged hiking shoes. So, we took it easy and just hiked an hour around the base. Then? Back in the Range Rover, now piled with provisions and Roxy’s stuff, we downloaded the audio book “Daisy Jones & The Six.” We eased back and began listening to the tale of a 70’s band and stopped only for dark meat fried chicken from a Popeyes with no furniture, cheek by jowl with a gas station. We were on the real road now.
Finally, about dusk, we crossed into The Land of Enchantment and it greeted us with a glorious sunset gilding the mountains, mesas and meadows of sage. My beloved New Mexico offered its wide open spaces to us and welcomed us pioneers into the unknowable territory ahead.
