SEA RANCH, Calif. -- It's designed to resemble the isolated sheep ranch it once was, though all the messy sheep have been evicted. Like a Tibetan monastery, it fosters reflection and a love of solitude, but without the distractions of crashing cymbals and honking conch shells.
Welcome to Sea Ranch, 3,500 acres of California's rugged northern coast lining the winking blue Pacific -- a vacation resort that offers little in the way of fun and less frolic, but a whole lot of splendid isolation.
Last summer, I was invited to a wedding at Sea Ranch and wound up spending three days in one of its houses with a group of friends. Scrawled on a card at the wedding, and in the guest book of our house, was the same line of poetry by the 19th century Austrian, Rainer Maria Rilke: "Live your questions." This inscrutable phrase became the mantra of our weekend, the words we used to greet one another at the breakfast table, the phrase we used to say goodnight.
Live your questions! And my question that long weekend was this: What the heck is Sea Ranch?
So I read about the place, talked to some residents, mulled it over with my friends. It was hard to say. One thing it is not, all agreed, is a resort.
Boardwalks and midways, there are none. Neither are there T-shirt stores nor salt-water taffy shops nor midways nor fishing piers nor sightseeing trolleys nor drive-through liquor stores. Entertainment consists of an ice cream parlor, an art gallery, a few other stores and restaurants, most of them in the hamlet of Gualala, on the northern edge of the development.
Mostly, visitors find rocks and trees and grass and fog.
Yes, there are a few grudging concessions to the traditional notion of a vacation getaway. Sea Ranch has a heated swimming pool, riding stable and two recreation centers. But I didn't see anyone using them during my admittedly short visit.
There are also a smattering of beaches nestled in the rocky parapets covering 10 miles of coast. The water was so cold, even over the July 4 weekend, that the only swimmers we saw were in wetsuits. The rocks were so treacherous, it seemed risky to swim, wetsuit or no.
There was a spooky, Hitchcockian feel to much of the place, as though seagulls were massing for an attack. (Bodega Bay, the setting for Hitchcock's "The Birds," is not far south.) During a walk, a friend and I stumbled on a playground in the pines: a fenced enclosure that included a playhouse built of weathered boards, a hollowed-out log, a couple of swings.
"It looks like a place where Shaker children play," my friend said, nervously. Of course, the Shakers were celibate and had no children. Neither was there anyone in the playground.
The main attractions of Sea Ranch are its vistas and its trails. Footpaths snake for miles through the waist-high grasses and dense stands of pine, along the coast and up into the gentle foothills. Benches overlook coves filled with sunning sea lions. Gulls cry, jackrabbits bolt and mule deer twitch their long ears.
Humans can seem less gregarious than the wildlife. Tromping along the sea cliffs, we waved to other trekkers. None did more than smile in response. "Most Sea Ranchers," explains author Richard Sexton, in his book, "Parallel Utopias," "are not walking the trails to find sociability but, rather, to experience nature."
Sea Ranch is a 2 1/2 -hour drive north of San Francisco, along broad freeways and winding coastal roads. But even when you're there, you may not realize you've arrived. Stands of pine form a twisting tunnel along California's Route 1. The development has only a few entrances, and these are subtly marked -- deliberately so, it seems, to keep out the idly curious. I kept driving past our entrance road.
Once inside the colony, it was as though someone had drawn back a curtain.
Brown grasses danced in the breeze above waves exploding on the shore. Suede hills to the east lay bathed in the shimmering golds and purples of sunset.
"For many residents," Sexton writes, "a life at Sea Ranch is a privilege for which you need to accept many responsibilities, and for which ultimately you must prove yourself worthy."
The wedding itself, held at the bride and groom's new home by the sea, seemed archetypically Californian. It was the third marriage for each. They recited their wedding vows outside in the squinting sunshine. Everyone dressed casually -- I was one of the few guests wearing a tie. And the ceremony was anything but solemn. As the couple kissed, the caterer walked behind them lugging a load of hot dogs and hamburger patties.
A love of the land
The motto of Sea Ranch is "Live Lightly on the Land." And it's remarkable how effectively the developers have managed to camouflauge the 1,200 or so homes. (Some are half-buried in the hillside, others lurk in copses.)
Full-time residents of Sea Ranch are often drawn to the place by a love for the landscape. And there is a lot of it to experience. Once the coarse ocean fog burns off, the views are sublime. Fields of grass and wildflowers lay drenched in sunshine, under a startling blue sky. The air is clearer than rainwater, and just as sweet. Sea lions litter the rocks along the coast, or bob in the rolling waves. Mule deer and jackrabbits bound through the fields, while hawks circle overhead.
Cultivating paradise is one thing, sharing it another. The proposal to build Sea Ranch in the 1960s triggered a statewide debate over coastal development that led to the passage in 1972 of Proposition 20. In theory, the law opened all of California's beaches to public access. In reality, though, the general public didn't get their first chance to stroll on the sand until 1985, when public-access trails were dedicated between the coast road and the ocean.
Sea Ranchers still don't seem reconciled with the notion of sharing their bounty. Visitors must carry permits with them wherever they go, and hang another pass from the rear-view mirrors of their cars. Permitless people are forbidden to stray from narrow access trails leading from the highway to the shore, or even to walk along the bluff-top trail. The Sea Ranch Association, the homeowners' group, appears to enforce these rules zealously. While walking down to the beach, I saw a car with no permit wearing a Denver boot.
Permanent residents, too, face restrictions. They're forbidden to have lawns, gardens or trees not approved by the community. If you want unauthorized foliage, you have to hide it with a weathered-board fence. As for lawn jockeys, pink flamingos, statues of the Virgin Mary? Forget them. Even the height of the grass is dictated by a combination of colony rules and state fire regulations -- within 50 feet of all homes, the grass is clipped as short as a Marine's crew-cut. Outside that perimeter, mowing is forbidden and the tall grasses wave luxuriantly in the wind.
Like Sea Ranch itself, street signs are austerely styled and difficult to spot. They consist of 4-by-4 pieces of lumber, whitewashed and set upright with their top cut at an angle -- to mimic the raked roofline of most of the houses. Street names aspire to the lyrical; they include Wild Moor Reach, Leeward Road, Redwood Rise and Madrone Meadow.
One of the few frivolous things at Sea Ranch is its nondenominational chapel, built in the foothills above the coast. It's shaped like a conch shell, or an elf's hat, or something. Inside, the small chapel has stained glass and pews, but no religious symbols. Would-be worshipers face a finely crafted utility cabinet.
Exploring the area
Our last day at Sea Ranch, we decided to explore the coast to the north. In Gualala, the grocery store was filled with women in batik-print dresses and men with gray pony tails. A sundae at a nearby ice cream shop cost $7. The fish-and-chips at the lunch stand behind the Gualala Hotel seemed pricey, too, but proved very tasty.
Still living our questions, we drove about 15 miles north of Gualala to the Point Arena Lighthouse & Museum, with its exhibit of historic pictures of the region. We paid $3 to walk up the winding stairs of the lighthouse and look at the dusty magnifying lens, sitting, we were told, in a 1.5-ton mercury bath to keep it level.
On a clear day, we could have seen far out into the Pacific. But a gray gauze of morning fog hung over everything, ruffled only by the bleat of the foghorn. It served as a reminder that this stretch of coast was once a forlorn and desolate place. It also served as a reminder of how tourists seem willing to pay to do anything, including tromping up a flight of stairs to look at dusty pieces of glass.
Forty-five minutes north is the town of Mendocino, with its Victorian architecture, bungalows and small-town atmosphere. By contrast with Sea Ranch, Mendocino is practically honky tonk -- there are toy shops and T-shirts for sale. The Sunday morning we visited, the volunteer fire company held a pancake breakfast.
But don't be fooled. This is not Rehoboth. Shops we visited featured extravagant items, geared toward wealthy visitors from the Bay area. One displayed a handmade chest of drawers that cost $7,500. Another featured expensive guitars, and a third carried nothing but telescopes.
A less expensive pastime is a hike to the end of town, to the Mendocino Headlands State Park. There, we found yet another soul-stirring view of the Pacific. A friend and I sat on a bench made of driftwood and agreed that the planet offers few more inspiring sights.
On one of the last nights of our stay, the five people in our group soaked in a hot tub under the silver stars above the Pacific. (Most of us were modest Easterners; all of us wore bathing suits.) The wedding was over. We had just finished dinner, and had tasted a few California wines.
We were, we agreed, happily living our questions. None of us, though, could quite recall what they were.
WHEN YOU GO ...
Getting there: Several airlines, including United and Southwest, offer low-cost fares to San Francisco. Drive north on U.S. Route 101, to River Road north of Santa Rosa. West on River Road, past the Korbel winery, to California Route 116 in Guerneville. West again to Route 1, and then north along the coast to Sea Ranch.
Getting around: The only way to get to Sea Ranch is by car, so rent one at the airport. Get an early start: Sea Ranch is 2 1/2 hours from San Francisco, when traffic is light. I drove up on Friday afternoon of the July 4 weekend, and by the time I arrived, I was in no mood for transcendental meditation.
When to go: Winter storms lash the north coast. Of course, watching the Pacific churn is part of the appeal of the place. In the summer, Sea Ranch is wreathed in morning fogs that don't always burn off.
Where to stay: Several real estate companies can book you into a Sea Ranch house, at prices ranging from about $150 to $325 per night. One company is Ocean View properties: 707-884-3538, www.oceanviewprop.com. Or try Ramshead Realty, 1000 Annapolis Road, P.O. Box 123, Sea Ranch, Calif. 95497 (800-785-3455). Visitors can also stay at the Sea Ranch Village Lodge, 60 Seawalk Dr., Sea Ranch 95497. 707-785-2371. There is also the 19-room Gualala Hotel, built in 1903. 707-884-3441. The hotel's restaurant is open for dinner from 6 p.m. to 9 p.m., weekends from 5 p.m. to 10 p.m.
Tips: Plan to do a lot of hiking. I wished I had more time to explore some of the back country.
Information:The Sea Ranch Association has an extensive and informative Web site at www.thesearanch.com.