WILD WEST

57 Cumberland Street, San Francisco CA 94110
Phone Number: +1 415 738 2112
Nadine 415 595 0023
Colman 415 871 9920
Skype: nadinemellor

Dearest Family and Friends

There’s nothing like having a visitor or two to inspire a packed programme of activities, from expeditions at sunrise to swanky dinners – my parents rose to the tasks set them magnificently. This month also saw Colman and I have a romantic weekend away in Palm Springs, and hold our joint birthday party at the apartment.


Weekend of the Month
The first weekend in February we flew south to Palm Springs. It was late on a Friday night, and a clear night so I could see LA in the distance, looking exactly like the set from Bladerunner with aeroplanes circling above it and a huge grid of boulevards of lights. To my surprise a large mountain loomed up on my right: Mt San Jacinto towers above the flat Coachella valley, which Palm Springs and its satellite towns – Rancho Mirage, Palm Desert and Cathedral Canyon – sprawl through. The area has extraordinary geography: ancient igneous mountains and outcrops over millennia have weathered to create an alluvial flat valley, prone to flash flooding until water management was introduced; scrubby trees and bushes, gravelly sand, bluffs and washes add detail to the desert.

Yet Palm Springs is anachron-istically green and verdant. Its inhabitants have used the natural springs that emanate from mountain canyons to create golf courses by the 100, manicured lawns and showy topiary, sprawling suburbs and a resort town known for its ‘gays and greys’. Famous pre and post-war as a Hollywood playground (loads of health spas, hotels and resorts), Palm Springs is fashionable again today, with its 50s modernist houses and wealthy clientele. You see adobe styled walls, gated drives, lawns with sprinklers on at noon (!), citrus trees, matrons with permatans and coiffed hair, constant building development (how on earth is this sustainable? This is a desert for chrissakes), condos, retirement villages, manicured blocks that contrast with the desert beside it, and the trailer parks on the outskirts. A high percentage of homes have pools, roads are called Sunshine Drive, Gene Autry Trail, Frank Sinatra Drive, Buena Vista.

After collecting our retro-styled Chrysler convertible, we drove to Desert Hot Springs, 20 minutes north over Interstate 10, to stay in a 50s motel, Hope Springs Motel Resort, now tastefully redone as a shrine to modernism. Simply furnished – huge blissful bed, Eames chair, vintage heater, curtain to draw across the French windows, colours of lime, monastic white and dove grey – all rooms face the central pool, hot tub and Jacuzzi. The weather the whole weekend was sunny and warm; temperatures in the late 70s all day. Driving around the valley I was struck at the similarities to the movie, Cars, set in this neck of the desert in the town of Radiator Springs bypassed by the Interstate, populated by beat-up jalopies and eccentric bangers. It is with no exaggeration to say I have never seen so many car dealerships – massed ranks with all manner of make and model - the Hummers and Land Rovers displayed astride rocks to demonstrate their machismo. The roads themselves have every motorised variant – sleek roadsters to classy Mercedes to rattling farm vehicles to monster-wheeled Utes to space age RVs to vintage 50s and 60s models to Corvettes to family wagons and of course gleaming noisy Harleys.

We visited the Living Desert Zoo and Gardens with every kind of desert vegetation in discrete zones with desert birds and mammals, followed by cocktails in the Parker Palm Springs. A grand emporium with valet parking, lantern-lit grounds, desert landscaped gardens; the lounge had a gas-fired modern round hearth surrounded by woolly rugs, pouffes, basket chairs, vintage lamps and beautiful people, and us, people watching before heading to dinner. The Asian fusion restaurant was certainly a scene – a stream running through the middle – and of the 17 tables nearest us, I counted only one with a female on it. We jumped in the hot tub before bed. How very Palm Springs of us.

Vegetation of the Month
The next day, the Sunday (still not a cloud in the sky) we drove for miles along Interstate 10 up the Coachella Valley, leaving irrigated plains behind, with the Indio Hills to our left, climbing ever upwards, on and on, our travelling companions only trucks and lorries, private cars left to the valley floor’s indulgences. The country became ever rockier, stones rusted by sun and wind all around, crags peering down at us. Eventually we reached the turn off to the Southern Entrance to Joshua Tree National Park, unique because it holds two different desert ecosystems within its borders – the Colorado Desert in the SE below 3000 feet, and the higher slightly cooler and more moist (well all things are relative) Mojave Desert.

Our first stop was the Cottonwood Visitor Centre where we met a fabulous couple, middle-aged glamorous Harley riders, who lived back in PS. They gave us helpful advice about where to go for dinner and said three weeks ago everything had been covered in snow. We went for a 6 mile walk starting from Cottonwood Spring, a palm oasis with cottonwood trees planted by ranchers in the 19th century, up a dry valley into the foothills of the Eagle Mountains with weathered pillow-shaped granite boulders on every side. Tall spindly cacti called ocotillo, short spiny plants and scrubby bushes somehow manage to coax moisture from the unforgiving combination of harsh climate and arid geology; between is coarse quartzite sand and baked rock. The walk, along which we only encountered 3 others, took us up to piles of boulders culminating in Mastodon Peak, which we scrambled up for impressive views across the Eagle Mountains and south to the shimmering Salton Sea, formed when the Colorado River burst its banks in 1905 and now a saline inland sea. The route back took us past an abandoned gold mine.

Back in the car we wound on northwards across the Pinto Basin of the Colorado Desert, ringed by rugged ranges to the south, east and north. The vast flat plain is covered in creosote and smoke bushes and you can see for miles in all directions. The road goes past the Cholla Cactus Garden, a natural profusion of amazing bushy cacti, also known as teddy bear cacti or jumping cacti as their spines so easily attach themselves to you. Creamy yellow with extraordinary profusions and little buds at the end of their branches, the cholla seem strange enough to be a figment of some fevered imagination. But as we climb upwards out of the alluvial plain with its dry washes (areas where floods flow) and into the Mojave Desert, the vegetation changes - yucca plants start to appear, and then we spot our first Joshua Tree, and another, and again, and another, until they fill every horizon. The cholla have nothing on the Joshua Tree, whose trunks grow straight upwards and then dramatically branch in random directions, with long needle like leaves at the end of each, as if drawn by a child. Some get very tall, some are babies, but all give the desert a science fiction quality – no wonder when one remembers how many bad B-movies were shot here in the ‘50s.

Sights in the Mojave include the rock climbers tackling the granite outcrops, which increase in size as you ascend into the park – this is the best place in California to climb. We walked to Barker Dam through great rock formations, saw some waterfowl and too many other visitors, so moved on through a tranquil valley, towards sunset, lengthening shadows picking up the distinctive Joshua Trees and light warming the granite walls. Native American petroglyphs adorn one shallow cavity, overpainted supposedly in an effort to help highlight the art but now considered an act of vandalism. Hidden Valley, down the road, was truly concealed until the 1920s when its walls were blasted by dynamite to find fresh grazing for cattle. The climate became drier, the park was protected and the cattle are no longer, but Hidden Valley possesses an enchantment all of its own. Like a walled rock garden, surrounded by granite walls, with more lush vegetation than the plains outside including relict pine trees, peace reigned at dusk. We left the park accompanied by Joshua Tree silhouettes against the darkening skies. On the Harley couple’s recommendation we went to Pioneertown, built as a Hollywood movie backdrop in the 40s, for dinner. Sadly it was too dark to see the old time saloons and walk down Main Street, although the stars were simply incredible, so we chowed down traditional mesquite-fired chicken with home made ranch dressing in the famous bar, Pioneertown Palace, as a 10-piece country band kept us all rocking. The nicest meal of the weekend.

Biggest Ascent of the Month
On our last day in PS we took the custom-built revolving Aerial Tram to the top of San Jacinto mountain. It travels nearly 6000ft through five different vegetation belts to a tacky restaurant and souvenir shop at the top, and breathtaking views for miles across the neighbouring valleys. We hadn’t time to explore the beautiful park properly (50 miles of hiking trails) but its Alpine forest felt very incongruous in the desert, snow melting all around.

Birthday Party of the Month
We hosted our first party here in our joint honour, and having noticed the amount of food usually served at parties here we spent all day scrubbing the apartment and cooking up a storm, the fruits of our labours adorning the kitchen table: salads, bruschetta, dips and crudités. Our first guest, John, had kindly offered to make some food so then shamed us into submission by providing vast quantities of delicious Thai style shrimps, pork and green beans and hand-made egg rolls (spring rolls). Needless to say all these were devoured with gusto; we were eating our bean salad for days afterwards. The party started at 7.30 and was a huge success – about 40 people came including all of the DLG (the drinking ladies group) bar 2 who were away [from L-R: Debra, Amy B, Jen, Amy H, Abby, Laura, Michelle; Jason is in the picture below to the left], some colleagues (Yahoos) of Colman, friends from London, our downstairs neighbours, and all up we had 8 nationalities represented. I wore my 'new' vintage 30s top which shed sequins and glass beads all night. Jolly japes included a beer tasting session (naturally the DLG shone at this), blackjack, Colman losing repeatedly at Connect Four at 2am, incoherent discussions of Tchaikovsky, and much much drinking. One chap walked into a cupboard believing it to be the way to the kitchen….


The best birthday presents were my DLG inscribed T-shirt from Jason – yay! And my cricket ball from John, who literally scoured the Bay Area for a cricket equipment outlet to no avail, before finally sourcing some chap with a garage of cricketing paraphernalia in the outer suburbs. This prompted much discussion of the business opportunities available given the large number of Indian and Pakistani nationals who now work in Silicon Valley, and numerous conversations about cricket itself which led to the remark ‘I’d rather talk about something interesting like cricket than boring stuff like work’ which I frankly didn’t think I’d hear an American say in my lifetime…

Visitors of the Month
Mum and Dad were our first European visitors and first to try out the new sofa bed, which they report a success. It was really great having them to stay and they were duly impressed with our apartment and San Francisco – liking the magnificent views, the good public transport, the ‘Victorians’, walking through Chinatown (dim sum for lunch) and North Beach, de Young museum, the food, the cable trolley car ride, Mum was very taken with the Asian Art Museum, Dad haunted Tartine (the amazing bakery just 2 blocks from us) daily, and I took them to the San Francisco Symphony to hear a Dvorak Symphony, which they very much enjoyed.

Walk of the Month
The weather promised to rain and blow but we woke on their first full day to clear blue skies and bright sunshine. We hired a zipcar and drove over the Golden Gate Bridge to Marin and encountered the first day of the Amgen Tour of California cycle race along with hundreds of supporters and lyrcra-clad logo-infested cyclists – cycling is a big sport here. It was a glorious day and we did a 12-mile circular walk up to Mount Tamalpais and back. Mt Tam is the highest point in Marin and we had unsurpassed 360 views across the Bay, out to the Pacific and north along the coast. Really lovely, and a good demonstration of how in 40 minutes from your door you can be in great hiking and mountain biking country hereabouts.

Historical Landmark of the Month

We took the boat to Alcatraz (just caught by the skin of our teeth) the next day (more hazy skies but still fine), a surprisingly interesting morning. Firstly a lighthouse (the first on the Pacific coast), then military fort, then notorious high security prison, which was closed in the 60s, Alcatraz was also occupied by Native American activists for 2 years in the flower power era (although they called themselves Indians then) who left some graffiti still visible today, and their protest is deemed instrumental in the equal rights movement. High profile prisoners included Al Capone and Robert Stroud, the Birdman of Alcatraz. What I hadn’t realised was that families of the guards and governors lived on the island and had idyllic childhoods, never locking their doors, taking the boat the 1.25 miles to SF to school and back daily. It is also home to a huge colony of western gulls and its situation is very fine looking towards the SF skyline, both the Bay and Golden Gate Bridges, as well as Sausalito and Marin.

Expedition of the Month
We headed to World Heritage Site, Yosemite National Park, with a dire weather warning of rain and snow on higher ground, buying snow chains en route. We drove east and then south through wind-turbine swept hills into the long flat Central Valley of California, the agricultural belt between the coast and the snow-capped rugged Sierra Nevada. Here we got a glimpse of what the rest of America may look like - RVs, serried ranks of orchards, golden arches, vast fields, new build satellite towns. At Merced, where we turned off towards Yosemite, with purple skies threatening, we visited the Castle Air Museum for its 49 military aircraft - including the Tomcat, the B52, the Lodestar, the Phantom and the Thunderchief. Dad and Colman were brought back to their Airfix days, discussing the size/thrust/wingspan/engines, while Mum and I got drenched in the downpour. As Dad said, no wonder the US military are keen on using all this hardware; many had flown in combat missions in the 2nd World War, Korea and Vietnam - some of the fuselages had been painted with the numbers of bombs dropped.

The 140 is ruler-straight for a while before it begins to climb into the Sierra Nevada. By now rain was lashing the car, visibility was zero, and morale was boosted only by singing along to Cabaret. As we gained altitude, the rain turned to sleet and then to very wet snow. We crested a long ascent and wound down into the Merced River valley, the road following the green valley's twists and turns, circumnavigating rockfalls. Eventually we checked in to the purpose built Yosemite View Lodge just 2 miles from the entrance, beside the rising Merced River, Mum and I availed ourselves of the swimming pool and hot tub and we retired for an early night.

The next morning, Colman's birthday, we couldn't believe our luck: low mist and cloud romantically swirling and lifting to reveal 3 foot of (rapidly melting) snow and the sun burning through. With mounting excitement we drove into the Park itself, stopping to put our snow chains on, with help from a friendly passing American. All roads into the park were closed, save ours luckily for us, and it took us up into the main U-shaped valley. Uniquely formed from the weathering over millennia of colossal granite intrusive rocks, by exfoliation, erosion, glaciers and water, Yosemite covers a vast area (1,200 sq miles) but most visitors head for Yosemite Valley with its iconic granite outcrops and plunging waterfalls. The combination of fresh snow (melting less quickly the higher we went), the most breathtaking canyon scenery one could hope to ever see, and blue skies above will render this account hyperbolic - Ansel Adams eat your heart out! Our first (of many) photo stops was to attempt to capture the majesty of El Capiten (above), the biggest granite monolith in the valley with a 3000ft vertical face beloved by rock climbers, wreathed in cloud wisps. To our right was the first of the major waterfalls, Bridal Veil (above). A couple of miles on is the double fall of Yosemite Falls; into the distance are the Sentinel Dome and Half-Dome (right). We couldn't venture as far into the park as we would have liked, walks above a certain height were closed because of the snow.

Our first walk took us on an 8 mile round trip circling Mirror Lake. Few people had trod that way ahead of us, if any that day, and we delighted in making fresh prints, each of us following in the other's steps, listening to the trickling accompaniment of snow sliding off the trees, getting dusted with flying snow particles. The path went through conifers bent over with the weight of the snow, beside the lake which reflected the stupendous snow-blanketed Alpine meadow landscape to perfection; the river above the lake burbled around snow-covered boulders, our attempt to play pooh-sticks with snowballs failed dismally.

After a late luncheon, limbs aching from the high steps required to navigate the snow drifts, we climbed part of the way to Vernal Falls; the path was closed above the bridge. Here we experienced some of the thrill of ascending into the hanging valleys with their sheer slopes, craggy skylines and long views. The path, more travelled than around Mirror Lake, was packed icy snow in many places, which despite melting quite fast, meant walking gingerly. We got as far as the bridge and the wonderful view up to Vernal Falls before the oldies (including myself) turned back, leaving the young'un to carry on through thigh high drifts, but was beaten back agonizingly close to the waterfall itself. That night, to celebrate Colman's birthday, we went for a swanky dinner at Mountain View restaurant, more than satiated by huge portions after our epic walking efforts - and all agreed it had been a terrific day.

The next day produced even better weather - not a cloud in the sky until late afternoon. We walked from Bridal Veil Falls in a 12 mile loop around the Valley Floor, and curiously, even though we could hear the cars passing below or beside us at various points along the walk, we met only other tourists at a couple of major sights - in fact the initial part of the walk traversed slopes of the Cathedral Rocks and Spires and was untrod. The sound and texture of snow underfoot took on different qualities according to the type: whether the sensual delicious virgin powder, the hollow sound of packed ice, the crunch onto part-thawed-but-refrozen-overnight icy snow, or the piste pock-marked from snow falling from trees. Vegetable matter poking through - needles, pine cones, lichen, baby trees, last year's bracken, charred stumps, fallen trees shrouded like corpses creating geometric shapes; the sunlight dappling the snow blanket, shafts illuminating carpeted boulder slopes, stands of trees, groves and glades. Three-four and even five-storey high ramrod straight conifers, branches outlined in snow like ribs on a skeleton. The only sounds are the constant dripping of water, the soft wind swaying some branches, the whispery 'whumps' of wet snow falling on the ground, the high thin singing of the busy kinglets and chickadees in the top branches. Fine snow crystals glittered in the sunshine as they floated off the trees into the air; constant movement in the corner of your eye. Tree trunks textured in shades of tobacco, punctured with bushy lime green lichen; animal tracks (we saw a couple of coyote and a small herd of mule deer) delicately inscribed the path. At times the path came out of the woods into the Alpine plain beside the alternately green, blue and yellow Merced River whose water is so clear it appeared to be glass; glacial erratics stud the valley floor. The views up and down the valley could no be bettered: sheer streaked granite faces, trees and waterfalls on all sides.

On our final morning we woke to a thick wet blizzard and we drove carefully into the Park for a final farewell, having the Brunch of All Brunches (all you can eat for a set price, 10 different kinds of hot dishes, huge cheese and cold cuts counter, iced seafood including oysters and prawns, fruit, yoghurts, breads, cakes, crudites, a carvery, eggs cooked to order, unlimited tea and cofee) at the famous fabulous grand mountain-ranch style Ahwahnee Lodge - where I'm staying if I ever get the chance to return (cashed up) to Yosemite. The whole weekend was really out of this world.

Animal Encounter of the Month
The northern elephant seal was hunted almost to extinction at the turn of the 20th century (only 50-100 were left in Baja California) and has made a slow recovery back from the brink subsequently. In 1955 they started to colonise Año Nuevo, (now the largest mainland breeding colony in the world) an hour south of San Francisco, a point (named by Spanish explorers in 1603) and nature reserve. I took Mum and Dad to see these extraordinary creatures, now the largest mainland breeding colony. Guided walking tours of 20 at a time are led through the sand dunes to get as close as 20 metres to these vast slug-like animals. The seals come to shore in December to mate, give birth and moult – in the months they are on land they eat nothing. Bull males can grow to 16 feet in length and weigh up to 2.5 tons, as much as a truck! And it beggars belief to see them hump themselves along the ground, defending their harems (females are smaller, up to 12 feet long) and roaring at the ‘loser’ males, shaking their proboscis (es?) in rage. When we were there heaps of weaners (teenagers essentially) were splashing in puddles learning about water – none of them have swum yet and it is hunger that will drive them into the ocean, their mothers abandon them after 28 days. As Amy remarked when I told her I’d been to see them, ‘if animals as ugly as that can get laid, there’s hope for us all’.

Restaurant of the Month
Chez Panisse in Berkeley is a Bay Area institution for its superb cuisine, showcased in the restaurant’s set price menu that changes daily. Opened in 1971 by the legendary Alice Waters, whose marriage of French cooking techniques with the freshest of local seasonal ingredients proved a sensation - her restaurant is considered the birthplace of ‘California Cuisine’. She is still highly influential in the Slow Food movement and local food scene – the sources of all local produce are featured in the dish descriptors; the restaurant is packed nightly with the great and the good, and last week, us. We were treated (thanks so very much Mum and Dad) to green garlic and Comte cheese soufflé with Cannard mache, which had the ideal texture of light fluffiness and delicate flavour. Followed by a sausage of Maine lobster, scallops and sole mousse on a bed of Savoy cabbage – sublime seems a slightly understated word in this context. The main was spit-roasted Heritage pork loin with apples, sautéed potato and Chino Ranch vegetables, all cooked to the Waters gospel. For dessert a perfectly conceived blood orange and tangerine tartlet with crème Chantilly lightly dusted with crushed pistachios.

An honourable mention must also go to Limon, a nuevo Peruvian restaurant that Colman took me to on my birthday - yummy ceviches. The restaurant put us on the best table in the house from our POV: on the terrace above the kitchen and we watched enthralled as the chefs worked in an almost hypnotic blur, rhythmically preparing and cooking the dishes.

Wine of the Month by Mission Boy
Ridge, Geyserville, Sonoma, 2003
Ridge’s most famous wine, Monte Bello is widely acknowledged to be among the world’s best wines. It was catapulted to prominence by the Judgement of Paris in 1976 when it scored highly against the Bordeaux competition. A 30th anniversary rerun put the 1971 Monte Bello at the top of the same ten Californian and French wines.
So much for the reputation of the maker. Unlike the Cab Sauvignon Monte Bello, Geyserville is principally a Zinfandel: the unofficial state grape of California. (It would be official but for Governor Arnie vetoing the recent proposal). Zinfandel is known for its liking for hot climates so it thrives in Cali. The results tend to be full-throttle high alcohol, high fruit intense wines: mother’s milk to the Californian wine aficionado. The same style is sometimes criticised (by me and others) for resulting in impressive but somewhat tiresome wines who’s fruitiness tend to pall on the palate and overpower the taste of any food to which it should serve as an accompaniment.
So I pulled the cork on this bottle with some misgivings. As expected the wine is very dark: almost black with a glossy sheen. The nose is incredibly precise but a range of notes which have you sniffing and swirling throughout the glass. We are talking black fruits and spice.
In the mouth its got big and intense fruit, and with that same impression of precision; of a wine maker who is completely focussed and in control of the end result. Yes it would obliterate any food it served with. It might not matter with simple hunk of steak to which it could act as a tasty sauce; but don’t drink this with any dish which is already sauced.
As it happens this bottle was being served after dinner and I realised that this is a good way to use and appreciate this type of wine. It is not so sweet and textured as port and is not so alcoholic either and thus supports tippling over conversation that continues long into the night. That way you can really enjoy the delicious flavours. This kind of stuff is too strong in flavour and alchohol before dinner.
The bottle wasn’t finished that night. Two days later I dealt with it. My notes from then are revealing: “Soft, velvety, delicious fruit that doesn’t attack. The tannins are just gorgeous; just sufficient to give the wine backbone. This is a most seductive fruit drink. Two days of air has brought the texture into balance’.
Of course it must be said that 5 years of cellar time would bring on more complex secondary flavours. I don’t think this is a wine for 10 years though.
I’m beginning to find my way into Californian wine. Hooray.

Bird of the Month
Not a great haul this month disappointingly – partly because our walks were mainly in woods in which birds disappear effectively – but whether in desert or forest few new sightings were made. Contenders included the mountain chickadee Poecile gambeli, little black and white headed acrobatic chaps, flocks of which busied themselves at the tops of conifers in Yosemite dislodging fine snow dust and chattering away to themselves. But the large (8.5”) cactus wren Campylorhynchus brunneicapillus (try saying that without your false teeth) took the prize for its long white eyebrow and fine curving bill, its variety of buff, mocha, coffee and cream coloured spots and streaks, and for its very active couldn’t-care-less-that-you’re-looking-at-me attitude. The pair I observed (in fierce desert heat which gave me a headache for hours) shouldered their way about cackling to each other as they created their nest in palm fronds, on a birding expedition to a fan palm oasis called Coachella Valley Reserve on our Palm Springs weekend.

Bumper Sticker of the Month
Who Would Jesus Bomb?

Hope to see you all soon; do feel free to leave a comment - we've made it easier to do so.

Love and hugs Nadine and Colman xxx