All Valley Blogs

One of the things I take great pleasure in about my place in Anderson Valley is that it is not on Google Maps. Of the four billionaires I know, all are to be found on Google Maps. Not me.

So much for optical character generation. They screwed up. I now claim this adds value. Want to hide out? This property is unknown. If only Bernie Madoff had befriended me I could have helped, he could have hid out here. But alas, he didn’t.

It gets better. Zillow thinks my property is raw land. Doesn’t know there is a house, studio, guest house, etc. How cool is that?

Sir Google, here’s the deal, Live by the digit, die by the digit.

You are dead.

b.

I drove across the country last summer. After flying to New York (that’s a whole story in itself) and then at the last minute I decided to drive back. I rented a car and drove the 4500 miles over about four weeks.

What a cool trip. I hadn’t done a first class road trip in a long time. The year before I took the train to Michigan and discovered the fantastic fresh water lakes and beaches.

On each trip I started looking for tank towers. On the train I couldn’t spot a one from Reno to Chicago. They still have the old ones on the tops of buildings in New York but there was not a one visible on my drive back.

I have not found a suitable answer for this yet. Shouldn’t there be one or two old farms left with tank towers like in California? How else could they have had water pressure in the house?

b.

A favorite place in Anderson Valley is the Apple Farm. Owned by the Schmidts’ of “French Laundry” fame, it is a real treat to visit. I like to just walk around there before buying some of their delicious fresh apple cider.

It took me awhile to appreciate the place. I remembered the location from my high school days and it didn’t seem very inviting. Too cold in the winter I thought, and too close to the public access river.

Well, now I take that back. The Schmidts little farm has some of the mildest weather every time I visit, summer or winter. And the public beach is well away from the farm.

The Schmidts’ have fixed the place up enormously judging by the main house and it’s cooking class kitchen. They also have cabins that they rent. But it is the fine detail and care with which they have done these things that I admire.

The little accents the Schmidt’s have added are deceptively subtle and seemingly modest. There is a chandelier with candles hanging from a tree over a garden table. A church window at each end of the raised garden beds. Elegantly simple door pulls on small out-buildings. All unremarkable and with an almost homemade look, yet together they provide a thoughtful answer to creating a sense of place.

It is unpretentious and artfully done. It also doesn’t look like someone just threw a lot of money at it either. Which brings up the fact that having gone on last years’ garden tour I can attest that most of the newer places being built in the Valley, while expensive, are for the most part being tastefully done.

Which is saying a lot about who is moving here. Don’t try and find tasteful in most of the other wine areas such as the Napa Valley.

Recently, I went to visit a film director who lives in Saint Helena. Driving up into the hills outside of the town center I missed his turnoff and drove past several nearby properties. One was right out of “Gone With The Wind” and aesthetically didn’t belong in its setting.

For the most part, that is still not a problem in Anderson Valley.

b.

I pulled over on Sunday as I was driving to Cloverdale to snap this photo of the snow covering the hills east of Yorkville. As I stopped it occurred to me that I had been in this place before.

The little building on the right side of the road used to be a tavern. The owner was a lady who also tended bar. When we were looking to buy some beer in my AV High School years, this was one of the two places that would serve us. The other was a similar place in Comptche.

We would usually send in just one of our group to buy a case of beer. It was winter and we were bored. It was also the weekend, and by passing the hat were could scrounge up what might have been about five dollars, a small price to pay for enough fuel to energize an otherwise dull evening.

Any adult might well have questioned the wisdom of such adventures. We were breaking numerous laws and we were endangering our lives. Yet, it all felt worth it. Worth the risk. Mostly because it was exciting and there was not a lot exciting in our lives.

I actually worked on this movie. I even had a chance to be in it but I had so little interest that I let that “opportunity” pass me by.

A far more interesting thing to do is to go to the real site which now has a bunch of fine old Fort Baker buildings converted into a hotel, a restaurant, and a bar. You can have a drink on the veranda or a meal and get this interesting perspective of the Golden Gate, bridge, sailboats, ship tankers and all.

I walked out of the Half Day Cafe in Kentfield the other morning and saw this truck with all the campaign posters. I guess the election is really over and we can all get back to picking up the pieces of our country that have been left scattered across the landscape like broken toys.

b.

I’ve taken to reading Willie Brown’s column in the Sunday Chronicle. He is an astute observer of politics, local and national, and much like the financial host Jim Cramer, always has an insider knowledge of what is going on.

This week Willie writes…”Perry’s opened a new joint on Steuart Street. It’s between Hotel Vitale and Ozuma. So now, the Friday night walk for the under-40 crowd is Vitale, Boulevard, Shanghai 1930 and Perry’s and Ozuma.

It’s the walk of fame or shame - depending on how the night goes.”

I didn’t know about the walk when I took this picture from the patio of the Gordon Biersch Brewery on the Embarcadero in San Francisco but I did take a walk around the area and it is worth a look.

b.

The following post was sent to AndersonValley.net apparently in response to a post by Turkey Vulture. I am publishing it for the poster since it appeared in the drafts section and I believe he meant to publish it.

Hi-

My name is Jim Ball, and I just read your post of 9/10 about my property across from Goldeneye.

I’m sorry if the sign offends you - I intended to thank the trades who worked so hard to build the winery. (We chose local trades who could do the job - and I employ all local - Boonville and Elk - people for my winery work. The Chicagoans hired to do carpentry are good and honorable tradesmen who would otherwise be out of work because of the severe building depression in the Midwest, and I wanted to help them and their lovely families get back on their feet.) I’m not crazy about the looks of the sign either - it was made by a local sign maker/artist who wanted and needed the work, and it is temporary (until about 10/15).

I don’t take water from the Creek although I have rights - I use only well and surface run off water, and have a reclamation system to re-use what I have already used. I have done everything I can to respect and protect the environment in the building of this project and systems installed. I don’t know if I’m related to J.D. Ball as I have tried to tell everyone - I don’t intend to ride anyone’s coat tails or step on anyone’s history. I have personally spoken to J.D. Ball’s descendants, and they know I make no claims on their heritage here. I am really trying to become a member of the community - I do everything I can to respect the property, the rights of others and the heritage and people of the community. I have donated to local causes, and I intend to continue to do so, without recognition but with respect for others’ needs. I tried to build a set of small buildings that paid homage to the style of the barns in the valley that have existed for years - I spent a lot of time photographing them and working with an architect to not spoil anyone’s view. I do not intend to appear immodest - in fact, I hope to be very inconspicuous.

Saw this mailbox recently out near Clayton, Ca. This is an old town first explored by the Spaniards in the 1770’s. It still has a small “old town” about the size of Philo. All this area is in the shadow of Mt. Diablo and is quite rural. It is however, interspersed with housing tracts.

The area is also lousy with boomer hot rod buffs, thus the custom mailbox.

b.

Whether it’s a bullet ridden pick-up truck or another kind of American Classic I often find something of interest parked in downtown Boonville.

I checked the other side of the pick-up wondering if it had perhaps been caught in a cross-fire, but that side was clean.

There is a story here somewhere, I’m pretty sure. Possibly it’s just a joke, but they are real holes, not the stick-on kind you sometimes see.

The Corvette I’ve only seen that once but I remember thinking that it was local. Don’t know if it was or not.

When I was in high school here my cousin Avon ordered a 1965 Red Stingray Corvette with black interior. He bought it in Cloverdale and gave them a $100 dollar deposit.

Avon was the only kid I ever knew that had owned seventeen cars before he was sixteen years old. All were old junkers that he drove around the ranch property. When he got tired of them we would take them to the top of the property and release the brakes. The cars would race down the hill until they hit a huge black berry patch which engulfed the car.

What happened after that I don’t remember but I don’t think they are still in that black berry patch. I wish they were because looking back, he owned what would today be interesting old cars from the 20’s and 30’s.

The Stingray was never purchased. Avon found out his auto insurance would go to at least $1,000 a year and that was a deal breaker on a $3500 Corvette.

My friend Jimmy Brink convinced his father to go down to Cloverdale and take the Stingray on a test drive. This was some test drive, Jimmy and his dad drove it back to Boonville and actually brought it down to our property so he could show it off.

Jimmy didn’t buy it either. I always liked the looks of that car and I saw one the other day at a car festival. It could have been the same car.

By the time I was buying expensive cars, I bought an Italian sports car. Very fast car. I brought it up to Boonville and got a speeding ticket just north of Healdsburg. Now that was a fast car.

bill