A glorious cool and sunny day yesterday found me in Crockett by the Carquinez Strait.
I walked from the cottage where David is staying towards the water and the C&H Sugar plant (100 years of sweetness). The blue water, the hills and towns on the other side, the bridge, the plant's smokestack -all of it- filled my eyes with a strange kind of beauty. The train tracks ran along the water's edge and occasionally a little yellow car, looking like something out of the distant past, chugged by followed sometime later by an Amtrak train on its way to Sacramento. I've always loved the sound of trains.
The town of Crockett reminds me of Freeland in Pennsyvania where I grew up. Maybe a little hillier and with wider streets, but oddly reminiscent. Lots of American flags, and veterans; I know I won't be discussing politics here. The downtown has two antique shops run by old men, a sandwich shop, Club Tac- a bar started in 1923, a few "art" galleries, and not much else. 3200 inhabitants.
I drove toward Port Costa on the Carquinez Strait Scenic Road and stopped briefly at a park. I talked with a local couple there with two black labs named Buddy and they recommended some hiking trails and other must-sees in the area. Saving the hike for another time, I drove the 4 miles to Port Costa- a town with one central dead end street that stops at the water, beautiful old buildings and two interesting restaurants that opened later in the afternoon. The architecture was astounding- both the old and the new. The 3 story, late 1800's, former bordello, Burlington Hotel has rooms to let if you don't mind some dust, 1960's decor, and a bath down the hall. I hear that, if you ask across the street at the Warehouse Cafe, they give you the keys and tell you to choose a room. Fifty dollars for the night and it includes a surf and turf dinner at the Cafe. This info comes from the net. I'll let the photos tell the story.
After lunch back in Crockett, I decided to see the Crockett Museum, as it was also recommended by the two Buddys' folks. The door was open and a very old man was sitting inside. The museum was closed, he said, but I could have a look. He came to do some work, but was having a rest. The first room held WWII memories. Uniforms and photos of Crockett men who wore them, Japanese and German weapon "souvenirs, things. Other rooms honored its special citizens- a bust of a doctor and photos of his nurses, photos of Aldo Ray and stories about his family. (His brother married the daughter of Sammy Davis Jr. and May Britt.) Rooms were stuffed with old vacuum cleaners, typewrites, tools. They had the last telephone switchboard in CA retired in Crockett in 1969 and an 8 foot long, detailed model of a cathedral in Washington, DC built by a patient in the local sanitarium. And it went on.
When I was leaving I asked the old man, who had been joined by another senior, if he had lived in Crockett all of his life. Yep, he said. You must have known all of these people then. He answered, I knew most of them. The other man then spoke up and said, I buried all of them.
Not done yet. I drove the few miles to Martinez to visit the john Muir house. I should have saved it for another day as I didn't have much time before it closed.
It was a beautiful Victorian and a pleasure to wander through it. The grounds are worth another visit.
I am enjoying exploring these towns and only regret that David is not with me because he is working in the local hospital. Perhaps instead of returning to Santa Cruz, we will stay one weekend and continue our discoveries together.
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