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Let's start with a pronunciation lesson. Just what does "Marin" rhyme with? Most visitors, i.e. non northern-Californians naturally say something like "MARE-in", i.e., something that rhymes with the word for female horse. Just as soon as it is out of your mouth — it has happened to us and it has happened to other people within our hearing — the locals will say, "it's muh-RIN".

Marin County Map

That out of the way, what and where is Marin County? You, our expected reader, probably already know. But for the unexpected drop-in, have a glance at the map to the right. You'll see that it is the county just north of San Francisco and that it's western edge is the Pacific Ocean.

For more than a hundred years it has been part of the "breathing" space for San Franciscans. Before 1936 and the opening of the Golden Gate bridge, the direct route from San Francisco was via the ferry to Sausalito. Today there has been a renaissance in ferry service with many commuters daily taking the Sausalito ferry to their suburban homes.

After five days in San Francisco we wanted to see a bit of what was north of the city. Our main goal was to make a return trip to the Muir Woods, which are in Mill Valley, just northwest of Sausalito. In addition, Bob and Linda, our hosts in San Francisco, highly recommended Point Reyes National Seashore. We'd never visited so didn't have much of an idea of what to expect, but were convinced it would be worth the trip. And then there was 2751 ft Mt Tamalpais. It appeared on every map we looked at; from height alone we thought there must be good views.

We timed our departure from San Francisco to be Monday, Memorial Day, which ended the three day holiday weekend, thinking that we would have comparatively little competition for motels that night. Half the morning was spent packing and then we were off  for the Muir Woods.

As we approached the Golden Gate it was such a fine day that we decided to stop on the Presidio side for a look. We got off at the viewpoint but it was so crowded that we gave up. It was Memorial Day, after all, and we should have known. But we are unused to making distinctions between weekdays and weekend and holidays.

Driving across the bridge we regretted our impatience. But fortunately for us there was another viewpoint and parking lot on the north side; it even had enough room for us, although it was nearly filled too. We spent a happy two hours walking back to San Francisco across the bridge and then, of course, back to our car, in exceedingly fine weather, getting great views of the bay in all directions. Below us we could see several sea lions and now and again a tourist sight-seeing boat. We wished for a whale or two but they didn't accommodate us.

Technically we had been in Marin County since we crossed the Golden Gate and parked our cars. Maybe even since we were in the midpoint. But since we walked clear back the above story of the bridge really belongs with our San Francisco Tale. Now begins the recounting of the one, true (and holy?) report of our adventures in Marin County.

We were on US 101 and driving north ten miles to the California Highway 1 turn off. We were hoping for a repeat of our drive north from Los Angeles where we had hugged where possible coastal Route 1 and been rewarded by wonderful scenery. Instead, it was a bit like getting back home after a day at work: we spent 10-15 minutes inching forward at the Route 1 turnoff. More Memorial Day traffic. For daily commuters it is no great thing. For us it was a novelty. At least we had NPR to keep us occupied.

Now for a confession: So far in this little essay we have been misleading you. We drove to and right by the Muir Woods: We'd been warned that it would be very crowded and if we hadn't believed it before our little traffic jam, we did now, so we saved it for the next day.

Instead we went on to Point Reyes National Seashore passing through places and names new to us: Muir Beach, Stinson Beach, Bolinas, and Inverness. There were plenty of holiday visitors but not so much that traffic was backed up. We enjoyed the drive north, sometimes on high cliffs above the ocean with far views, sometimes along a tidal bay slowly being converted into a meadow, and sometimes in low valleys. It is beautiful country, and we enjoyed all of the drive.

Sir Francis Drake woodcut image

In Point Reyes National Seashore we first went down to Drake beach and had a nice walk there, below the cliffs. Until this visit we had not known it was named for Sir Francis Drake (~1540-1596), the explorer who sighted it in 1578. (Some day 1579) He named the area "Nova Albion" or "New Albion" because the white cliffs reminded him of the White Cliffs of Dover, the basis for the Roman name of Britain: Albion.

We arrived at the beach in late afternoon and it was chilly in the shade, so we had no real temptation to swim, although there were kids in the water. One, a little girl of 10-11 with a boogie board, waited and waited and waited for the right wave; she never, never, ever found it. She just stood there. Or she looked at the nearby boys actually riding their boogie boards. But as much as she looked at them she never caught their technique.

Back into the car we went on to the end of the peninsula and walked out to the light house area, where we had more great views. We saw the Farallon Islands, off shore a dozen miles, where we were told there are large colonies of sea lions. The stairs down to the light itself were already closed, so we had to view it from above. Over and over we wished Gerry's camera was not broken so that he could record what we were seeing.

We would have liked to spend the night in quaint Bolinas or Inverness, the first having a yuppie Fire Island atmosphere and the second a more pastoral atmosphere, but as expected, checking showed that the cheapest places were more than twice our desired budget. So instead, we spent the night in Petaluma, a place we learned about from our discount coupon book. There was a silver lining: the drive to Petaluma back through Point Reyes and then through the coastal hills, was also awesome, to use a word of the younger set to which we wish we still belonged. Petaluma is locally known for its old victorian mansions and a famous child abduction of ten years ago. We only caught a glimpse of the old town as we drove in; in the morning we left without even a glance because we wanted to get on to the Muir Woods.

Muir Woods map

We took Hwy. 101 south and after passing through some rush hour traffic around San Rafael we took the same turn off for Highway 1 and the Muir Woods that we had used on Monday. This time traffic was light on the road, as we were going away from employment centers. In Muir Woods we had to park at the overflow parking lot. The previous day, the last of the Memorial Day weekend, would have been far worse; that's why we waited.

Our first impression was "where am I". We thought that on arrival we would remember things. But that was not the case. The "organization" of the place seems much different than when Gerry was last there, perhaps 30 years ago; then, if memory is right, there was no visitor center and the walk in the main valley was on a real trail, not the current protective board walks. Such seems to be the fate of all those who live long: you can go home, but the place is always changed. We've seen it in France and we've seen it in Hong Kong. For this reason we fear to go back to India and have our memories destroyed.

As to the main part of the Muir woods, while we liked them, they didn't seem grand or unusual enough to warrant their current reputation. In fact, just a week later we were in the Mariposa grove of Yosemite National Park and were much more impressed.

But all was not lost. In fact, very little. We had prepared ourselves for a long hike; that was to be the activity of the day. With a little advice we decided to try the trail to Stinson Beach, which we'd passed in our drive on Monday. A 10 mile hike, we didn't expect to make it all the way — and we didn't. After seeing the lower woods we took the Ben Johnson trail from the lower to upper Redwood Canyon. The upper part, for us, although not filled with giant redwoods was nicer just because it was quieter. When we got to the crest (after much puffing), at the junction with the Dipsea and Pacific Coast Fire trails we could see the ocean and how far down below the beach was. We didn't want to do a thousand feet down to the coast and back up so instead walked a short way along the fire trail and had our lunch. We had fine valley views and fine views of the coast. An extra treat was to see a wild turkey hen come through the long grass and march off down the dirt fire road. We took the Dipsea trail down. What a difference: now we were in open country rather than shaded valley and had many long views. Along the way we got lost, but that is par for the course for us. We weren't really lost in that we were always on the right trail. But for a few minutes we thought that we had deviated from it and would end up a few extra miles from our car.

Once in the car we headed for Mt Tamalpais. We didn't know what to expect but were wonderfully rewarded for our efforts. The road to the top is very windy and has many pull outs, which we sampled. When at the top we parked in a near empty lot, guessing that it is normally packed on weekend and that it was packed the day before on Memorial Day. We took the short trail to the closed fire look out station and had a look around ourselves.

We could see everything and everything was beautifully clear. The skies were mostly blue with traces of white clouds. There was no hint of air pollution or haze or San Francisco's famous fog. We could see parts of the Golden Gate (the rest hidden by lower hills), almost all of San Francisco including its downtown towers, the bays, their bridges and islands, Oakland and its skyline, Berkeley, and we imagined, almost all the way to San Jose.

What a lucky day we had chosen. Through our five days in San Francisco it had never been so clear. The next day when we drove to and through Oakland it was back to hazy as usual. From a third of the distance we could see a third as much.

Then it was back to Petaluma. We drove along Panoramic Highway and it was truly panoramic, offering many views of Point Reyes and the adjoining areas. On Wednesday morning we saw more of Petaluma, if you consider going to the Denny's restaurant and the AAA office "more." At least Denny's is a place we love for breakfast; they make the finest pancakes. The AAA prepared us for our next destination: Yosemite.

From the Encyclopaedia Britannica, "Sir Francis Drake", ~1540-1596

Sir Francis Drake

In 1572 [at 32 years old] —having obtained from the Queen a privateering commission, which amounted to a license to plunder in the King of Spain's lands—Drake set sail for America in command of two small ships, the “Pasha,” of 70 tons, and the “Swan,” of 25 tons. He was nothing if not ambitious, for his aim was to capture the important town of Nombre de Dios, Panama. Although himself wounded in the attack, he and his men managed to get away with a great deal of plunder—the foundation of his fortune. Not content with this, he went on to cross the Isthmus of Panama. Standing on a high ridge of land, he first saw the Pacific, that ocean hitherto barred to all but Spanish ships. It was then, as he put it, that he “besought Almighty God of His goodness to give him life and leave to sail once in an English ship in that sea.”

On Aug. 21, 1578 [Sir Francis Drake] entered the Strait [of Magellan]. It took 16 days to sail through, after which Drake had his second view of the Pacific Ocean—this time from the deck of an English ship. Then, as he wrote, “God by a contrary wind and intolerable tempest seemed to set himself against us.” During the gale, Drake's vessel and that of his second in command had been separated; the latter, having missed a rendezvous with Drake, ultimately returned to England, presuming that the “Hind” had sunk. It was, therefore, only Drake's flagship that made its way into the Pacific and up the coast of South America. He passed along the coast like a whirlwind, for the Spaniards were quite unguarded, having never known a hostile ship in their waters. He seized provisions at Valparaíso, attacked passing Spanish merchantmen, and captured two very rich prizes. “The Golden Hind” was below her watermark, loaded with bars of gold and silver, minted Spanish coinage, precious stones, and pearls, when he left South American waters to continue his voyage around the world. Before sailing westward, however, he sailed to the north as far as 48° N, on a parallel with Vancouver, to seek the Northwest Passage back into the Atlantic. The bitterly cold weather defeated him, and he coasted southward to anchor just north of modern San Francisco. He named the surrounding country New Albion and took possession of it in the name of Queen Elizabeth. In his search for a passage around the north of America he was the first European to sight the west coast of what is now Canada.