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Dear Mom,

Thanks for checking in on us again last night, and yes, I am taking good care of Noah. He’s sleeping out under a beautiful canopy of stars. 

Well folks, we’re almost there, and barring any unforeseen occurrences we should cross the finish line with ease on Saturday morning. We began the day with a leisurely departure from Fairfax, heading for the sleepy town of Olema. It’s a crossroads of sorts, with some nice eateries and shops, just down the road from Pt. Reyes Station. There is quite a musical history here, many of the rock bands from the Haight Ashbury days ended up in this area and still hang out and play around here. The town of Fairfax is a perfect example, quite amazing. For it’s size there was a huge amount of musicians and places where music was being played…on a Wednesday night! They were all very receptive to our cowbopping, and were taken aback by the musicianship of our younger guys. (I’m old news in these parts).

Played for lunch in Olema and took on the Northern part of Highway 1, a curvy road that put  me and the vehicles to the test, to say nothing of the passengers. Reminds me of the story:

A guy is overheard talking to his friend: “I want go out like my granddad, sleeping, not screaming like the passengers in the car he was driving”

Now I drive extremely cautiously, especially with such precious cargo, but I’ll bet it was as tough on the passengers as it was on me: many crazy drivers, tight curves, dips and the distraction of some of the most beautiful scenery that the earth has to offer. Talk about photo ops, it’s easy to see how the highway has held it’s distinction as one of the most coveted drives in the world. It never ceases to amaze, the engineering feat of creating the road in the first place, and the massive amount of effort—and money—it must take to keep CA Hwy 1 on the edge, not off or over. I have heard that it is the most expensive road in the country to maintain, and since 85% of statistics are made up on the spot, I’m inclined to believe it.

We drove through some sleepy towns without stopping, besides the lack of people walking around  the fog had settled in and it was a tad chilly. Boy, how we’d have welcomed this in SoCal last week. About a half-hour south of Albion the sun came out. The transition was magical and cottony wisps seemed to hang of the trees that hung out over the road. Prisms of light showered the road and I could taste the soft salty air on my lips.

We stopped in and visited my friend Monterey Jack, one of the most generous and spirited supporters of the arts I have had the fortune to come across. He’s a great friend to many jazz musicians along with being one of the more astute people you could ever hope to meet. He set us up where he lives now, with sculptor Richard Yaski. Richard has turned seven acres of Mendocino splendor into a laceName>ShibuilaceName> laceName>SculpturelaceName> laceType>GardenlaceType> that is magical. His large sculptures grace the natural beauty with a timeless and meditative feel that is hard to describe. Perhaps some of the pictures (I’ll download them when we get a connection that is fast enough) will do it justice. His creativity also extends to dwellings, there is an old school bus that has morphed into a double-wide wooden palace, a cabin that seems as if it might be a trailer in search of a vintage vehicle to partner with, and a house that blends into the contour of the land. A nice space for concerts extends between the meditation garden and the house. His workshop is replete with every kind of tool and he gives a lot of his time to training and mentoring others who want to learn the crafts that it takes to create fine art. There is a definite resonance with the JazzMasters theme, he teaches by doing, forging a living context for the personal expression and continuum of the artistic process.

Jack took us around and we scouted a bunch of potential hits tomorrow, we decided to get in early and try to get an early start for what will likely be our last day 'on the edge', I think we'll waltz to the end Saturday morning and crash Mr. Rick’s Martini Club party in Oakland by that evening, hopefully no worse for wear. I’ll take this opportunity to revel in the accomplishment of doing and the idea that embracing the effort as the goal is what life is all about. It is definitely tasting sweet about now.

Wish you were here.