I have spent the last week in Stinson Beach, a favorite with my son’s family. He lives right over the mountain, and many Mill Valley families whose children go to school with my grandchildren are here as well.
It’s the typical local getaway — the place not too far away next to the ocean….
I think I’ve walked the length of the beach just about every day, and at the north end, on the other side of the “spit,” is Bolinas, really just a stone’s throw away.
A row of houses built out over the water on piers is quite picturesque. Behind them are cliffs with homes perched here and there.
“I’ve never been to Bolinas,” my son said.
“Oh no,” I said. “We were always taking drives when you were a kid. We must have been there.”
“I don’t think so,” he said.
“The joke is, people living in Bolinas keep taking the signs down so that people can’t find it,” he said.
Since we could see where it was in relationship to where we were, it would be pretty easy to locate, even without signs.
“So, let’s go see,” I said.
Sure enough, there were no signs. And it did not feel familiar.
Bitch Rag 