discovering tiny and utterly charming cafés and restaurants tucked
away in little towns. They are places that have a presence, where
can't help but feel that there's a part of the owner woven into the
space because it has survived thus long in such a small and tiny town.
The morning coffees I've come to consider as a reward. There's really
nothing like cradling a steaming fresh café latté in your cold hands,
smelling the smell of freshly baked goods and chatting with curious
and friendly baristas while my body shakes off the stiffness from
biking in the morning chill. Being in those cafes I feel as if I've
just spent half an hour in someone's living room, where the coffee is
always accompanied with an array of homemade baked goods made from
their own trove of secret recipes of goodness, where the seats are
polished and worn from years of coffee breaks, chats, debates and
study sessions, or where the wall decor hints at what the café becomes
after the doors are closed to the public.
Several mornings stand out, like this morning, when Misty and I cycled
out of Jenner in thick fog and weary legs, we pulled into the Bodega
Bay coffee house for our reward. We entered Jim's café, where a tall
bald dude with a foot-long white beard stands behind a pine counter
full of mouth-watering pans of buns and pastries. While we drink our
coffees, Jim chats with us about our trip so far, and how he's going
to run for president in 2012, starting with his plan to traveling on
every American road via bike or Greyhound first to meet the people. A
younger dude in the sofa with his MacBook Pro chimes in, and a
fisherman wanders in during our chat and joins in as well, and clearly
they hang out here when Jim isn't serving coffee. Or like that
morning where we fought our way up Cape Lookout and zoomed down into
Manzanita, OR, where Two Sisters and Paul were waiting for us. This
place was a combined antiques store and bakery, where the baked goods
were displayed among china pieces and colourful kitchen utensils. The
two sisters were twins and wore tie-dye shirts of different colours so
you could tell them apart. They made the most delicious little
mini-pies, which Nick, Misty and I couldn't pass up. Yum. Or the
morning where Misty and I pulled with dread out of Standish-Hickey
State Park to get ready to do that crazy day to Fort Bragg and had a
coffee at the bakery-bookstore-general store-restaurant right across
the street. It was packed to the rafters with stuff but totally
well-arranged and around every corner you'd find something completely
unexpected. Those are just a few that I can remember, and there are
definitely more that I wish I could bring home with me.
