14

Driving to and from Bolinas to go surfing, there is a cute little historic hotel in Mount Tamalpias that Jamie always makes a comment of.
“I would really like to stay there sometime.”
I know every time the winding road that goes through the mountains and redwoods curves, just beyond the entrance to Muir Woods, those words will come out of her mouth. And after living in the Bay Area for seven years, and dating each other for fourteen years, I decided it was time for a romantic stay-cation in the beautiful landscape that is our home.

Mountain Home Inn was a perfect get-a-way. We were able to hike to Muir Woods from where it sat, which meant a long descent into the valley and an even longer ascent back. We walked through thick groves of redwoods and ferns, sneaking Lemon into “no dogs allowed” paths as she was strapped onto our chests. At night we fed the fireplace, finding out the hard way what happens when a fire is built top-heavy. Lemon, of course, cozied up to the warmth of the fireplace.

We spent a work day there, and I got to take two baths in the king jacuzzi, finally utilizing my stack of bath bombs. During lunch we walked through the redwoods again, and I drank coffee on the porch, editing my novel. While the internet was spotting, Jamie was able to take calls while overlooking the redwoods.

This small trip will continue in our memories for many reasons. We will drive past it on our way to surfing, and we will say things like, “remember that hole in the ceiling over the bathtub?” or “maybe brunch there is better,” or “do you think they have changed the carpet, yet?”
And while we laugh at how unremarkable the majestic Inn turned out to be, deep down it still invokes a wonder. Its history is plastered on its walls, and marked in the eyes that reflect it.