Santa Cruz 2025

“Well that will be fun!” my neighbor said.

“Yah, but I hate traveling” I replied petulantly. “Four days is not very much time to get cross country and back again.”

As it turned out, we were both right.

May 2025, marked my Grandpa’s 90th birthday and in celebration we all flew out for the party. The neediness of the critters, and our middle child still in school meant that the trip had to be a short one. Thankfully since we were headed to the homeland it wasn’t hard to squeeze every bit of goodness out of the abbreviated timespan. We woke up at 1am, drove to Portsmouth to catch a bus to Boston for our 6am flight. Upon arriving in SFO we had to take the sky train to the rental car pickup, thus completing the obligatory plane, trains and automobile part of the journey. I like to think Steve Martin and John Candy would have approved.

In an effort to make my late father proud we took the coastal route from the city down to Santa Cruz. The fog burned off in truly spectacular fashion, welcoming us home.

We stopped in Pescedero to pick up the first of many supplies. Ololiberry pie and the best sourdough bread the area has to offer from Duarte’s Tavern. One of the only bars left in Ca where you can still buy a bottle of booze from the bar, just like the days before liquor stores. It is also one of the more random James Beard Award winning restaurants in the area.

Pescadero also sports one of the biggest flag poles of any tiny town.

The pie and bread are out of this world, as is the soup. They are famous for the artichoke, which is good, but the green chili soup is by far our favorite. I told the children to pretend they like each other and this is what I got, I guess it will have to do.

We continued down the coast till we got to Swanton Berry Farm just north of town and stocked up on more essentials, strawberries. Lots and lots of strawberries, there is simply nothing comparable from the grocery store.

Fruit, pie and bread procured, we headed for my Godmother’s house on the Westside to kill more time till we could check into the vacation rental on the eastside of town. The walls of her house embraced me with familiar smells and our childhood adventures smiling down at me from kitchen cabinets.

Growing up as a little surf grom, I was pretty exclusively a Westside kid and so this would be a new experience in our old town. We did live on a boat for a while, but the harbor is technically midtown. The Eastside is usually pretty crowded and touristy especially when compared to the beaches North of town were we preferred to spend our time, though I was looking forward to being within walking distance of the beach AND some of our favorite Mexican food.

Todd and Alison (known my whole life as T ‘n A) came over to share our first night’s dinner and walk down to Twin Lakes beach. My status as a Westsider was confirmed after realizing how weird the lighthouse looked from this distance and in that location. There was even a lifeguard on duty, a novel thing for me as we normally avoid crowded areas at all costs.

We headed back to the lovely little vacation rental, which was a quintessential beach house. Complete with palm trees and hammock.

As the sun set, and the fog rolled back in to shroud the harbor and our little rental, we all realized we had been traveling since 10:30pm the night before by west coast time and we were all exhausted, happy to have landed in such a welcoming temporary dwelling.

My Grandpa’s party was the next day, and would mean heading into the mountains and the headwaters of my childhood. We were all happy to have made the first part of the trip without mishap. This was going to be a quick one, but we were determined to squeeze every last drop of home out of the time we had.

Be well and thanks for reading!