Happy Holidays, Happy Trails
When I travel for Sunset, I try to work in an early morning run to get grounded in the here and now of wherever I am in the West. Over the past year, I’ve conducted rolling case studies of midcentury modern architecture on the sidewalks of Palm Springs, trotted with cattle in pastures above Solvang, sprinted past pricey dew-covered Pinot Noir in Sebastopol, and studied the shifting blue of the Pacific at a slow jog in foggy Cambria. Out there on the roads and trails, you get to see things you wouldn’t otherwise. At the halfway point of an out-and-back run down Dillon Beach to Lawson’s Landing—a 1950s campground and fishing spot on Tomales Bay—something clicked. Not mentally. But physically. In my heel. I ignored it, mesmerized as I was by…