**Ed note: I’m in Europe and will return with new posts in September—though I may post about Sardinia if I can find an internet connection on the beach. Happy summer! —John**

One of the joys of being a travel writer is discovering new out-of-the-way places. While researching an upcoming book for Lonely Planet, I found just such a spot: Saint Rose, a funky roadhouse-cafe with high-concept cooking, halfway between Sebastopol and Occidental in West County Sonoma.

The sun-dappled hidden back patio has the feel of a secret garden—a portrait of West County, with mismatched chairs, tile-top tables, a ramshackle fence and waist-wildflowers everywhere you look. The mint-green dining room would be cozy on a rainy winter’s night, but on a warm summer evening, I’d only sit outside.

Instead of bread, the waitress brings deep-orange melon and unhulled green almonds to start the meal—a nice touch. The daily-changing menu is refreshingly atypical for its lack of anything familiar—no chicken breast, no steak. The seasonal-regional cooking is simple and clean, with such dishes as braised pork shanks and ratatouille, and hibachi-grilled poussin with tomato fried rice. I begin with a morel and corn croquette, followed by a pork-and-crab green-curry panade grilled in a banana leaf. Though each ingredient’s flavor shines through—particularly the just-out-of-the-garden produce—I’d have appreciated more sure-handedness in the balance of acid, sweet and salt. Still, the chef’s experimental nature delights my culinary sensibilities.

There’s a folksiness to Saint Rose that you don’t find at other indie restaurants around Sonoma County. To wit, you can thumb through the owner’s classic-record collection, then play what you like on a vintage-1970s console stereo. I’ve forgotten the feel of vinyl in my hand, the delicate placing of the needle, and get a rush of memories from an old Steely Dan collection. Saint Rose’s risky menu isn’t for everyone, but the next time I’m in West County with a posse of foodie friends, I know exactly where I’m taking them.
The stats: Saint Rose; Map; 707-829-5898; mains $18-22; dinner Weds-Sun, brunch Sat-Sun. Reservations recommended weekends

Speeding down US 395 along the backside of the Sierra Nevada, it’s hard to apprehend scale. On one side, towering saw-toothed peaks—the highest in the continental US—hang like curtains from heaven. On the other side, the Great Basin’s vast sagebrush-studded deserts extend clear to Utah, to the western front of the Rockies. Distances are great, towns few.

Tioga Pass Road drops out of Yosemite into tiny Lee Vining, home to the culinary pitstop, Whoa Nellie Deli, a gas-station diner serving unexpectedly great eats and good wine at picnic tables outside. Just south lie the eerie shores of Mono Lake. Migratory birds flock here by the thousands. I’ve never made time for the South Tufa bird-watching walk, nor for a kayaking trip, but they’re on my must-do-before-I-die list. The place to stay: Tioga Lodge, a simple, but surprisingly well-decorated assemblage of attached cottages by the lake’s shore. (NB: The lodge fronts on the highway, but traffic dies at night.)

This is volcano country, and hot springs dot the land between Bridgeport and Mammoth Lakes. I took this shot while sitting in the hot pool at Wild Willy’s—bathing suits not required—but I won’t give you directions. Locals will already be furious I’ve told you the name. Don’t tell ‘em I sent you.

When you spot the turn-off for the June Lake Loop (SR 158), take it. Here’s your chance to drive directly beneath the Sierra’s eastern escarpment , which rises straight up from a series of icy-blue lakes. The place to stay: Double Eagle Resort & Spa, a compound of detached housekeeping cottages built around a surprisingly great full-service spa. And oh! what scenery. Alas, the food could be better, but Mammoth is a short drive away.

Trout-fishing is huge in the eastern Sierra, especially at Convict Lake, where you can stay in a bare-bones cabin like this one at Convict Lake Resort—ideal for budgeteers. By contrast, the Restaurant at Convict Lake merits a special trip for a hold-hands-by-candlelight dinner: think beef Wellington and luscious premier-cru wines.

The Minarets—saw-toothed remnants of an ancient volcano—bite the sky just north of Mammoth Mountain, a dormant volcano and California’s top ski resort. In summer the gondola whisks mountain-bikers and sightseers to the 11,054ft-high summit for top-of-the-world vistas from the new Top of the Sierra Interpretive Center. If you come, stay in the woods at Tamarack Lodge, a vintage-1920s log-cabin resort fronting on a little lake. The top-three restaurants for dinner: Petra’s Bistro for earthy California cooking; Skadi for Euro-Cal with Scandinavian overtones; and Lakefront for provincial French. Alternatively, drive ten minutes to Convict Lake (above). Alas, LuLu, like its San Francisco counterpart, is inconsistent.

The little town of Lone Pine straddles US 395 and sits in the shadow of Mt Whitney, the highest peak in the lower 48 states. Just west of town lie the Alabama Hills, where scores of old westerns were filmed. Take the loop drive along Movie Rd. to see the locations. If you stay overnight, book a motel room at the Dow Villa Motel. The best food is at Seasons, which makes a kick-ass steak.

[July 14 Update] Hwy 1 has re-opened, and all the inns and tourist attractions along the coast have re-opened, with the exception of the state parks. The biggest threat now facing Big Sur is mud slides, once winter’s rains return. But that’s a story for another time. For now, we can all breathe a sigh of relief.

[July 4, 6pm Update] Firefighters have chainsawed the brush on either side of Hwy 1 to keep it from jumping the road. For the very latest, read blogs from those who are there. (NB: Though egregious posts are being removed, none of the information is being filtered or verified.) Here are the best links for current Big Sur/Ventana Wilderness fire information.

[July 2, 2pm Update] Alas, the town of Big Sur has been totally evacuated and firemen are everywhere. Flames are licking the ridgelines above town. HOWEVER, once the evacuation orders are lifted—which can happen at a moment’s notice—hotels will immediately reopen (assuming the fire moves east, not west). Wait till tomorrow and check back with the resorts. But the news isn’t all bad. Read on…

[July 1] The bad news is, the Basin Complex fire in Big Sur is still burning and only 3% contained. The good news is, no inns, restaurants or attractions have burned. If you’re willing to brave the eeriness of a town on high alert, it’s a stellar time to score a rock-bottom rate. The winds have shifted, blowing coastal fog inland, and the postcard-perfect viewshed has been 95% restored.

More good news: The Henry Miller Library came close to burning down when the fire reached the ridge immediately behind the property, but firefighters managed to stop it from incinerating this California treasure. Archivists evacuated Mr. Miller’s art, books and personal effects to a concrete room at Post Ranch, but are now returning them to the library.

If you’re worried about wildlife, you’ll be thrilled to learn that eight California condors have been successfully airlifted via helicopter from Ventana Wildlife Society’s sanctuary—which by the way desperately needs donations. All free-flying condors—43 in total—have also been reported alive via the radio-telemetry devices implanted in their wings.

Hwy 1 south of Nepenthe Restaurant remains closed, as do Esalen Institute, Deetjen’s, and most of Big Sur’s state parks. Keep your eye on the forecast. July 4th is scheduled to be hot and sunny—more bad news for firefighters, but good for intrepid travelers looking for a rarefied experience this weekend. Just don’t expect to go hiking.

If you’re a big tipper in search of a cheap room, I dare say the locals would love to see you right about now.

And now my comrades all are gone;
Naught remains to toast.
They have left me here in my misery,
Like some poor wandering ghost. —Anonymous

Barreling down US 395—that long, lonely highway paralleling the saw-toothed backside of the mighty Sierra Nevada—it’s easy to zip right past the turnoff for Bodie State Historic Park, one of the West’s great ghost towns. Hardly anybody I know has been there, except for a few intrepid road-trippers unafraid of long dirt roads that go nowhere for miles. I finally made the trip last week.

It’s as if a neutron bomb hit the place. Scores of weather-beaten clapboard buildings stand in arrested decay. The town boomed in 1879, soaring nearly overnight to a population of 10,000. Within a year or so, the gold mines went bust and everyone left, abandoning their possessions.

The arid desert air works like embalming fluid. Cupping my hands against the window of a sideways-leaning house, I was stunned to spot a half-empty heavy glass bottle of faded-pink calamine lotion, its label weathered, but still clearly legible. The dry-good store still stocks century-old items, all covered in a thick layer of desert dust. Child-sized coffins lie toppled in the morgue.

This is one creepy place. Countless souls died miserable deaths in Bodie. Shootouts, robberies, and whisky-fueled, bloody brawls were commonplace. At its peak Bodie had only two churches, but an amazing sixty-five saloons. The town’s reverend called it ‘a sea of sin, lashed by the tempests of lust and passion.’

The detritus of a dead town lies everywhere—broken glass, rusty nails, splintered wagon wheels—and woe be to you if you pocket anything to take home. A little binder in the back of the museum (formerly the post office) shows page after page of hand-written letters from people who have taken, then mailed things back to the park in an effort to undo the curse they wrought. Some notes are short: ‘Take these god foresaken items back!’ Others ramble on, recounting stories of horror, like this, my favorite, ‘My father is in ICU bleeding from the nose and mouth.’ I didn’t dare test the hex, but would love to hear if you do. Feel free to post a comment telling me how your life has gone to hell.

Bodie never gets crowded. Most passersby spot the signs at the turnoff from US395 to CA 270 (Bodie Road), warning of a partially unpaved 13-mile-long road, and keep driving. The closest place to stay is Virginia Creek Settlement, a cute, simple and clean log-cabin motel, with a restaurant, beneath tall pines on the banks of a roaring creek. It’s in the middle of nowhere and close to the road, but it’s great for families and budgeteers. Fancier digs are at June Lake, Mammoth Lakes, and Lee Vining. I’ll talk about those in a future post about driving spectacular US 395, the forgotten California highway that rivals Hwy 1 for postcard-perfect scenery.