Left Coast Cowboys

My Skywatch post. See more skies from around the world at the Skywatch site: http://skyley.blogspot.com/

Once I get behind the wheel of Old Paint, it seems it’s hard for me to take my foot off the gas. So I’m already thinking about what my next roadtrip will be. Several things are going to govern the choice of my next destination:

1) The economy. After the blow-out at the Hotel Bel Air, I probably should concentrate on a trip where maybe I can camp or stay in a Motel 6.  That might preclude Andy. Too much business travel has left him unequipped for KOA.

2) Time. We’re coming up on planting time and, before you know it, I’ll be back at harvest time. Long-time readers will remember what happened then. Because we’d planted five different varietals that all had their own ripening schedules, I ended up living at the ranch with two terriers for more than six weeks. Andy was starting to sound like one of those suspicious husbands who vaguely puts off friends with the old, “Uh, she’s on a long trip.” Some people were ready to examine his Range Rover for bloodstains. 

3) Commitment to California. After more than twenty years of living in this state, I’m embarrassed at the number of areas I HAVEN’T seen. The Year 2009 will be The Year of Traveling Californian.

So then, using the above criteria, my top choices for roadtrips are:

1) The Santa Barbara wine country. Somehow, I never seem to get to this part of the coast. I’ve been down to Hearst Castle and up from San Diego as far as LA. But Santa Barbara always seems to get skipped. Added Bonus: FOUR Missions to check off my list. Those would be San Luis Obispo, Santa Inez, La Purísima Concepción and Santa Barbara. I’m not sure how practical it would be to drag Andy to more than one Mission. He doesn’t share this obsession to see all of them. We’ll see. I may have to leave him at a winery or two while I get in touch with my inner Padre.

2) Lassen Volcano Park. Did you know we had loads of volcanos here and not just of the extinct variety? I’ve heard of it, but, as I’m embarrassed to say, I’ve never been further north in California than Mendocino, so I haven’t seen them with my own eyes. Apparently even further north, we have lava beds.

3) Yosemite. I’ve been there, once twenty years ago for a weekend and I did a quick drive-through with my niece as we ended our cross-country roadtrip. Time to give this place the time and attention it deserves.

4) Channel Islands. Did you know we have a herd of wild buffalo? Apparently a movie company once let loose a few for a movie shoot, then left them to their own devices. I want to see them. Apparently, the sea life is fascinating around there. Andy, as a diver, will love it. Me, I’ll stick above the waves with the buffalo.

5) Joshua Tree National Park. Somehow I always missed this, even when I went down to Palm Springs. Plus there’s the morbid desire to see where Gram Parsons’ manager performed that botched cremation on the the singer.

Anyone else got any good suggestions? Because my window of opportunity is closing fast. Not too many months from now and my only roadtrip option will be heading up from the barn to the wine processing area with two yapping terriers.

NOTE: The photo at the top of the post is actually of the road leading into Texas’s Palo Duro Canyon taken during a cross-country roadtrip two years ago. It’s my entry to Skywatch. See more fabulous pictures of the sky posted by participants around the world at the site: http://skyley.blogspot.com/

The last day of our roadtrip started with a near fight. See Mom was born during the Depression, she knows the value of a dollar and she doesn’t waste food. So I indulged her when she carted the remains of her chicken fried steak out of Buck Owens’ Crystal Palace. I figured there was plenty of time to talk her out of taking it in the car. But Saturday morning when she brought it out of the motel refrigerator and started loading it into Old Paint, a confrontation was necessary. Suffice it to say, the chicken fried steak was left in Bakersfield, but for the hours long drive back up to San Francisco, it kept being mentioned.

Mom: “Are you hungry?”
Me: “A little.”
Mom: “Sure would be nice if we had that chicken fried steak now. . .”

Our route home led back up I-5, but the itinerary was loose. We’d traveled down I-5 and we thought we’d go up it a bit, then figure out where to veer off. At some point, we decided we’d swing by the Steinbeck Center in Salinas and headed off that way. That led us into very interesting territory, land I thought looked more like the High Plains of Texas — complete with tumbleweeds and oil derricks. The Prius, Old Paint, performed like a champ as we cruised out of Bakersfield with Buck Owens tunes cranked up.

Surprisingly (at least to us) a lot of the lower Central Valley is big oil country. These are the Lost Hills oil fields owned by Chevron.

I found this area strangely beautiful with miles of plains and large mountains in the distance. But then I'm a big fan of the High Plains country of Texas.

A giant tumbleweed threatens Mom and Old Paint.

Closer in to the mountains and we entered wine country.

Then, as we veered off I-5 and headed toward Salinas, Serendipity took over. Which is often the best part of a roadtrip. That point where your plans go a bit askew and you wind up seeing something you didn’t plan on, but in the end makes the trip.

The exact spot where the Rebel Without a Cause entered immortality.

Our first brush with Serendipity was the point where Route 41 met Route 46. Suddenly, a sign informed us that we were at the James Dean Memorial Intersection, the exact spot where Dean entered immortality. There is only a small plaque, the monument is in the town of Chalone in front of the Post Office. But the intersection is enough. It’s as eerie as the famous crossroads of Highway 61 and Highway 40 in Mississippi where Robert Johnson supposedly sold his soul to the Devil. You can feel, even in the daytime, that a tragedy took place here.

The Eagles said it best: "James Dean. James Dean. You were too fast to live. Too young to die. Bye Bye.

From that point, the Serendipity just kept happening. In fact we were giddy with it. So when we saw a small historical marker telling us the Mission of San Antonio de Padua was 22 miles off on a side road, we said, “What the heck”. I have a vague goal of eventually seeing all the historic original Missions of California. Since I’d been able to check off Mission San Juan Capistrano off my list, I thought, “Wouldn’t it be interesting to get a two-fer.”

After a short while, it seemed as if maybe this hadn’t been such a good idea. We drove out for miles into seemingly nowhere. Then we passed a sign saying we were entering Fort Hunter Liggett, which we later found out is the largest US Army Reserve Command post with over 165,000 acres. All we knew at the time was that there were a lot of tanks  and rifle ranges pointing at the road and we observed to each other hopefully that maybe on Saturday they wouldn’t be shooting. More miles into rifle ranges and we finally came to the base gate where a friendly  MP let us in the gate. Of course, I hedged our bets by identifying Mom as the widow of a decorated veteran of two wars. (Turns out, if you have a piece of picture ID and a valid insurance card, they let you in.) So you drive on and on for six more miles and there, in the middle of a wide open field of oaks is the third Mission founded by Father Junipero Serra, this one started in 1771.

Want the real Mission experience? San Antonio de Padua looks and feels much the same as it would have back in the 1700s.

This is Franki. She's an artist in her own right (see her website at http://rakusculptures.com) and she mans the information desk at San Antonio. She's a wealth of information about the Mission.

For my money, if you can visit only one California Mission, this is the one. Why? Because at Mission San Antonio de Padua, you’ll get the closest to the real experience of what it was like for the early California Padres. While most California Missions are now in the middle of built up towns, you can’t see anything but fields and oaks from St. Antonio. If there are few visitors and no cars, you can imagine you are back in Alta California. Add to that an incredible museum which covers both the Padres’ experience and that of the local Salinas Indians, as well as beautifully intact buildings, the wine-making rooms, original grapevines and fruit trees planted by the Padres, and this is a very special experience. Even better, the Mission is conducting some innovative programs such as retreats, including an Artists Retreat, where you room in the Mission and recharge in their unique spiritual environment. (I couldn’t help thinking this would be a brilliant place for a Yoga retreat. Quick, someone plan it.) Find out more at the website.

The center bell was the first one cast in California. The olive tree to the right was planted by the original Padres. Mission San Antonio is full of such treasures.

The exhibits are heavy on the Native experience. And apparently, this was one of the few Missions where the Indians actually had a positive experience. Which is always a big plus in my book.

Although Mission Capistrano was the first Mission to produce wine and olives, San Antonio was right behind them. Surprisingly, this olive press from the 1700s isn't much different form the first wine press Andy and I used at Two Terrier Vineyards.

The original burnt brick arches are still standing. And the countryside is pretty much unchanged from Padre days.

With the day waning and having spent so much time at the wonderful Mission San Antonio de Padua, we hit the road for San Francisco. We took a quick turn through Salinas, both to pay homage to John Steinbeck and to James Dean who appeared in the movie version of East of Eden. Lovely town and worth a visit on our next roadtrip. As the thunderclouds rolled in and the rain pelted down, we rolled into San Francisco.

We only had time for a drive-by in Steinbeck's home town. But it looks to be worth a return visit.

It’ll take us several days and several posts to process all we saw, so expect more about our roadtrip. But we’re calling this a huge success. We saw everything we expected and wonderful things that we did not. And even if Mom didn’t quite “get” Buck Owens and even if that chicken fried steak had to stay in Bakersfield, she was a willing and able participant in a truly epic roadtrip.

Thanks, Mom, for flying Wing Man.

(For anyone who doesn’t get the reference, the title of this post refers to the song “The Return of the Grievous Angel by Gram Parsons, the rocker who was greatly influenced by Buck Owens and introduced his music to the Rolling Stones and other rock musicians who incorporated his guitar licks. See my post on Gram Parsons here.)

More pictures from this day’s adventures here.

If you were like me, you knew Buck Owens, if you knew of him at all, as the toothy guy from that sappy old show Hee-Haw. I say, “if you were like me”, because I’m not like that any more. I have a new appreciation for Buck Owens. And in our upcoming roadtrip to San Juan Capistrano, we’ll be dropping by Bakersfield to pay him homage.

Many scholars of country music (and yes, you snarky people, there are such things) believe that Hee-Haw tarnished Buck’s musical legacy, by recasting him as a corny comedian. Apparently that was a view he shared toward the end of that show’s popular run. So forget Hee-Haw and let’s talk about that musical legacy — and what a legacy it is.

Central to Buck’s importance in American music is his large part in creating the Bakersfield Sound, a hard-driving, Fender guitar-dominated, raw country that melded the influence of migrant Okies, Texans and Arkies with honky-tonk and even such diverse influences as Mexican Mariachi music. Buck himself described the sound as “Bob Wills and the Texas Playboys meets Little Richard”. He also didn’t like to call his music “Country” but preferred to call it “American Music”. I’d call it “Buck’s Music” as no one did more to create it, promote it and popularize it than Buck, with the possible exception of Merle Haggard, who is often considered a co-creator of the sound.

The best introduction to Buck Owens? This album, available through iTunes.

Let me put this all in context. When Buck Owens and The Buckaroos burst on the scene in the late Fifties, Country Music was dominated by the corporate suits in Nashville and stringed, almost Pop-y arrangements were the standard. Suddenly with Buck, Country was back as the raw, hard-driving music of  hard-living working men. It was a blast of fresh air (well air that seemed to be tinged with cow manure, barroom sawdust and the sweat of a hard day’s labor). Buck was the real deal: a Texas Dust Bowl refugee, a truck driver through the San Joaquin Valley, and a honkey tonk musician who served his time in the Bakersfield bars. (Merle Haggard kicked it up a notch by robbing a Bakersfield honky-tonk which landed him in San Quentin.) Musicians from Gram Parsons to the Byrds to the Beatles and the Rolling Stones took notice and incorporated Buck’s influence. 

The fact that the Rolling Stones were fans is fitting as Buck and his life-long friend and co-guitarist, fiddler and Buckaroo, Don Rich, were the Mick and Keith of Country Music (I mean in the sense of the tight musical partnership not in decadence). I’m sure Gram Parsons, of the Flying Burrito Brothers and the Byrds, who introduced Mick and Keith to Country Music, got the idea of wearing flamboyant Nudie Suits from his hero Buck Owens.

Wikipedia actually has a really good article on Buck and his influence. But for musical context, especially for music that features guitars, I always turn to my brother. Steve’s been turning out hot licks since the day he grabbed the guitar I’d saved all my babysitting money to buy and shamed me into never picking it up again when he banged out a perfect Who riff by ear. Here is Steve’s musician’s take on Buck Owens:

“The thing that really got me with Buck Owens was his his injection of humor in his songs along with his seemingly effortless guitar playing.  He would give a little grin or sly smile as if what  he was doing was some sort of joke or not really serious and two seconds later he would play a tight guitar lick that proved he was a cut above. When you watch him play he seems to draw you in to his world as if you were in Bakersfield with him and a few buddies just having a few beers and some fun. 

He was very proud of the fact that he didn’t  do what Nashville wanted  him  to do.  He was told that if  you didn’t move to Nashville and play the game he would never make it, but he stayed in Bakersfield and kept making all those hit records his way.  Also all those outrageous clothes and guitars he had made a big impression. The other big thing were those great harmonies that he always seemed to have in the vocal lines.  They are not always traditional form, but his own Bakersfield way of singing things.  Tiger by the Tail is a good example of what I mean.  

For me it always seemed to come back to those tasty guitar licks and  trying to figure out exactly what he was doing to get his sound.”

My synopsis of Steve’s analysis: Buck does something few could duplicate or imitate and makes it all look easy.

So when Mom and I hit the road next week, one of our stops will be Buck Owens Crystal Palace in Bakersfield — the club and steak house where he played until the last night of his life. On March 25, 2006, Buck ate his favorite chicken-fried steak, then decided he didn’t feel up to his usual Friday night performance. But he met some fans in the lobby of the Palace who said they’d come all the way from Oregon to see him. Buck took to the stage saying, ”If somebody’s come all that way, I’m gonna do the show and give it my best shot. I might groan and squeak, but I’ll see what I can do.” Buck finished the show, went home and died peacefully in his sleep.

Thanks, Buck, for your showmanship and your contribution to American Music. Mom and I will salute you, probably over a chicken-fried steak, as we watch the house band kick out the Bakersfield Sound.

Oh, and my favorite Buck Owens songs?

Streets of Bakersfield which gives a hint at the hard-scrabble life there and innovatively incorporates Mexican border music from Buck’s childhood in Texas.

Act Naturally which was famously covered by The Beatles and Ringo Starr. (Somewhere on YouTube is a clip of Buck and Ringo singing this together.)

And to get a sense of Buck’s sense of humor, Waitin’ in Your Welfare Line which includes the immortal lyrics:

Well when I first met you babe you nearly made me wreck my old 49 Cadillac
Yeah I knew at a glance that it was you for me I had to have your love by heck
Now I’m right back where that I started from but that ain’t gonna change my mind
I got the hungrys for your love and I’m waitin’ in your welfare line

If you’ve read this post, you know my throw-down challenge that I have the most extensive Christmas music collection in North America. Today, I’m going to focus on a Christmas cocktail party. And I’m going to make it easy. I’m assuming this is a last minute party and you don’t have time to gather a load of individual songs. So I’ll be focussing on a few CDs — mostly compilation CDs — that will give you a party’s worth of Martini and Cosmo tinged holiday cheer. With a ten CD shuffler and these CDs, you’re good to go. Start mixing.

1. Ultra Lounge: Christmas Cocktails

There are three volumes: Christmas Cocktails Part 1, Part 2 and Part 3. I’d recommend all three. If you can only afford or find one, make it Part Two. With lounge gods like Peggy Lee, Julie London, Dean Martin and Ferrante and Teicher, this is the collection that will keep your stick swizzling.

2. Yule B’ Swingin’

This collection takes it a bit earlier than the Lounge Era. Think Ella Fitzgerald, Glenn Miller and Kay Starr. In the worlds of Louis Prima (the first song on the track) “What will Santa Claus do when he finds everybody swingin’?” Indeed. He’ll know this CD is in the machine.

3. Pottery Barn Hip Holidays Trilogy

I hope, I hope Pottery Barn is still selling this compilation. It’s the best. Everything from Herbie Hancock to James Brown’s Soulful Christmas to Al Hirt and Ann Margaret doing the definitive version of “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

4. Big Band Christmas Swing

This CD doesn’t just feature Benny Goodman and Lester Lanin. It’s got newer, retro artists such as Squirrel Nut Zippers and Big Bad Voodoo Daddy. It’s another Pottery Barn compilation, so hopefully, they are still selling it.

5. Lifetime Music Presents “Christmas Belles”

Why is it television stations (yes, it’s that Lifetime) and stores (see Pottery Barn above) are the official guardians of alternative Christmas? Here’s a great CD featuring all the babes you’d love to see hanging around your tree in a short fur trimmed elf suit. I’m talking Pearl Bailey singing “Jingle Bells Cha-Cha-Cha”, Nancy Wilson with “That’s What I Want for Christmas”, Brenda Lee belting out “Papa Noel” and my personal favorite, the under-rated Doris Day performing “Silver Bells”.

That’s five collections, featuring nine CDs stuffed with holiday canapes. Each CD is worthy enough to go through the cycle again. But if you are serving the cocktails I think you’re serving, once is enough. Send your revelers home once these CDs have cycled through.

Need some recipes? Here are ten great ones. I recommend the Drunken Elf.

And if you are making classic Martinis? Remember that the only true Martini is made with gin. And as my friend Rob cautions, you just wash the ice cubes with vermouth. Nothing more.

P.S. — You may ask at this point why I’m departing from winemaking topics and Sonoma to focus on Christmas. Well, there are no posts I’ve ever written that are more popular than my music posts. The three top hit magnets: my post on the Best Christmas Songs You’ve Never Heard, The Ten Best Cowboy Songs and my post on Gram Parsons. Believe me, if I could write a post on Western Christmas Songs Sung by Gram Parsons, I’d do it. I’d have thousands of hits. Until then, this will have to do.

P.P.S. — Yup, no sooner had a posted this when I checked my stats and I had a visitor who got here on the keywords “Gram Parsons Christmas”.