Peggy Dover

Last fall, I wrote about a meander to Clear Lake, California, about five and a half hours mostly south and a skosh west of us.

We stopped at a lodge built in 1906 and originally owned by Kit Carson’s half-brother. It was the Carson Rancho and part of a 3,000-acre ranch property. Its history is diverse and unique, having passed through many lifetimes. It’s now owned and beautifully maintained by the WorldMark by Wyndham resort properties.

We enjoyed our October adventure so much that we made plans to see how spring looks on the hills and vales of Lake County. The drive west along Highway 20 off of I-5 gradually delivers us out of the flat agricultural landscape (with nut trees crammed so close together I don’t see how they can breathe) into lush green hills full of wildflowers, oaks and other greeny trees. On this trip, we’ve noticed more daily wind, and the lake wears white caps, but the sun has shone bright every day.

We were able to snag a two-bedroom, three-bath penthouse suite located upstairs in the original, restored lodge. Our condo looks out onto Clear Lake — 68 square miles of fresh water and the largest freshwater lake wholly within California. As I’d hoped, scads of birds seem to have found their paradise and fill the branches with music.

I wake each morning to the frantic petition of the ring-necked dove and the crisp whistle and click of a Bullock’s oriole. Tree swallows are twirpling, swooping and diving for beaks full of a type of fungus gnat that at first appeared like man-eating mosquitoes. On three different excursions, I heard the unmistakable repertoire of the talented mockingbird.

Since we are here neither for catching bass nor pool lounging, our activity revolves around exploration of burgs and saying howdy to a sample of residents. Clear Lake is dotted around with small towns of varying strengths and weaknesses. This time, we visited a couple we missed before and revisited Lakeport and Kelseyville, the largest towns at 5,000 and 3,800 in population, respectively. We ambled into the Lake County Museum and learned about the Pomo Indians, the original inhabitants of the area.

Naturally, we have learned where top eateries are located — no judging allowed. Despite the condo kitchen, I didn’t come to cook and brought only a couple cans of tuna fish, chili and some yogurt. We’d discovered Mike’s Breakfast and Lunch in Lucerne (the Switzerland of America) last year. Miguel Perez has filled a much larger building bursting with happy diners in Lakeport, about 20 minutes west. Their bacon, tomato, avocado and Swiss cheese omelet was the best.

Yesterday we headed around the southeastern tip of the water and checked out the towns of Clear Lake and Middletown, which I kept referring to as Middle Earth, hoping for hobbit sightings.

We enjoyed a great luncheon (street taco salad and fizzy lemonade) at Buzzsaw Café and Public House, a former saw shop with light fixtures artistically fashioned from saw blades and parts — not hokey, very nicely done. After lunch it was a short walk to Sophie’s, a day spa, gift shop, and ice cream joint where they serve organic, locally made ice creams. I only had a short one.

We stopped off at the Mercantile in Kelseyville for a taste of local wine from the Shannon Family of Wines—their specialty grape being Cabernet Sauvignon, of which they have several distinct selections. Joaquin will take good care of you.

A friendly Kelseyvillian named Dan, who I recognized right off as a former bass-playing rocker, told us about the road up 4,300-foot Mount Konocti (Pomo for sleeping woman). So, Giovanni the Honda grumped and griped all the way up the dirt road, claiming I was out to kill him. Views of the valley were stupendous, he had to admit.

Dinner at the Blue Wing Saloon closed off the evening with a bowl of jambalaya and yes, a slice of chocolate cheesecake. Hey, I gave half to Lane who needed it to top off his crème brûlée.

Tomorrow, we head back home with gladdened hearts and mixed feelings. I miss my furry twosome, and I won’t miss the sales tax, but Clear Lake has become a special memory. Until next time …