Secret Hotels of California Wine Country
You don't have to spend a fortune to visit the fanciest farmland in America. We've found a crop of lovely, family-run inns in Napa, Sonoma, and beyond for less than $200 a night.
by Jaime Gross | April 2007 issue
ALEXANDER VALLEY
Old Crocker Inn
In the late 1800s, Charles Crocker, one of the founders of the Central Pacific Railroad, purchased nearly 600 acres above the Russian River and built a ranch and summer home there for entertaining his powerful friends and business partners. The ranch has been subdivided and parts have been sold over the years--much of it is now a residential development and a KOA campground--but five of those acres still bear Crocker's name, in the form of the Old Crocker Inn. Marcia and Tony Babb have been running the inn since 2005, when they moved north from Menlo Park. "You could call it retirement, except that we're working," laughs Tony. The Babbs have thrown themselves into their new career as innkeepers, turning out three-course breakfasts every morning (he cooks, she bakes), and generally making their guests feel at home. The eight rooms are named after historical figures and events. The Golden Spike (honoring the ceremonial spike that joined the Union Pacific and Central Pacific railroads) has a Jacuzzi, a fireplace, and pine-and-redwood-paneled walls hung with photographs and newspaper clippings related to railroad history. The Crocker has more of a tree-house feel, with a carved four-poster bed and great views of a pond and valley from a secluded corner of the wraparound deck. Although the property is hidden near the town of Cloverdale, in the sparsely populated and pleasantly remote-feeling Alexander Valley, it's only a 30-minute drive to Healdsburg, known for its upscale restaurants, shops, and wine-tasting rooms. 800/716-2007, oldcrockerinn.com, from $145.
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Cloverdale makes room for change
Bypassed town's new look includes Old Crocker Inn, path on Russian River
Christine Delsol, Chronicle Staff Writer
Sunday, January 9, 2005
Where are railroad magnate Charles Crocker and his Big Four hunting cronies now, I wondered, when we reached the north end of Cloverdale River Park and found a sign warning of mountain lion sightings in the area. We'd been hiking for a mile along the Russian River -- presumably under the watchful eyes of a hungry cougar -- before we came to the sign.
A few miles away, at the northernmost stop of Crocker's Central Pacific Railroad, were his summer hunting grounds, where he often hosted Leland Stanford, Mark Hopkins and Collis Huntington. President Ulysses S. Grant, a railroad booster, was another guest. Last spring, the Crocker family's old lodge opened as a bed and breakfast. The chance to wallow in the rustic luxury that allowed the Big Four to unwind from the rigors of empire building was what brought my boyfriend and me to Cloverdale recently.
It also gave us a chance to see what Cloverdale had made of itself in the 10 years since the freeway bypassed town, leaving this stretch of former Highway 101 to be reclaimed by the citizenry as Cloverdale Boulevard. It was a challenge at first: Several restaurants, a gas station and a sporting goods store closed within a couple of years. But rather than wither away, Cloverdale has refashioned itself into a Wine Country town. Slogan: "Where the redwoods meet the wine country."
Downtown, four lanes of what once had been crawling cars, boat trailers and Winnebagos have been transformed into a two-lane boulevard flanked by wide, landscaped sidewalks, retooled storefronts, curvy light posts, benches and trellises. The pedestrian plaza in the heart of town is pure Mayberry, with an old-time street clock and a small outdoor stage. On a sunny winter day, clusters of young women stood chatting and boys chased each other around a bench where Dad was soaking up the sun. The first shop we encountered, Sweet Rosebud's Coffee House, is a less expensive, quieter and much warmer answer to Starbucks (which so far has not found its way to Cloverdale).
Also in the aftermath of the bypass, Cloverdale River Park was created from 72 acres along the Russian River's banks bordering the east side of town. A paved 1-mile path, the only public multi-use trail along the river's 100 miles, opened last spring.
The park has two entrances. From downtown, we headed east on E. First Street to a new parking area just west of the bridge that crosses the river. Kayaks and canoes can put in below the bridge, where people squatted on the banks, regarding their fishing poles with a gravity that suggested dinner, not recreation, was the goal.
For about an hour, we shuffled through golden leaves wafting from lofty cottonwoods and sprawling oaks, pinched bay leaves lining the trail and dodged the occasional bicyclist and dog straining at its leash. We couldn't always see the river, but the rushing water serenaded us all the way. Still to come are interpretive maps and informational signs.
Endowed with ample open sky and paved for walkers, skaters, cyclers and wheelchairs, the trail is an ideal cabin-fever buster in winter, especially with the prospect of spotting resident herons, egrets and eagles. Though the air was cold, the sun was bright, and we soon doffed our sweatshirts.
Not long after crossing a small bridge over Oat Valley Creek, we reached a parking lot and more picnic tables -- and the mountain lion warning. We'd have seen it at the start of our walk if we'd driven north of town and entered the park from this end.
It was nearly dark when we drove up the hillside to Old Crocker Inn, and we were every bit as invigorated as the barons must have been after a day of hunting. Susan Degive, who with her husband, Michel, opened the inn last March, greeted us with tea and coffee, a bit of history, and dinner suggestions. (Piacere, at the north end of town, is more casual than the highly regarded Santi down the road in Geyserville, but the food is comparable, she said. We weren't disappointed).
Yet this is the antithesis of the typical Wine Country bed and breakfast's Victorian coziness. The expansive main lodge, with its wood paneling, fireplace, 12-foot ceilings, wrap-around French doors and deck, overlooks the river, vineyards and hills. Comfortable seats invite lounging, rather than perching with a glass of sherry. In this clubby atmosphere, the old boys could have popped in any minute, divesting themselves of hunting rifles and stomping the dirt off their boots.
We stayed in the redwood-shaded Canton Cottage, a few steps from the lodge and decorated to honor the Chinese railroad workers. Its centerpiece is a magnificent antique carved wooden bed from Shanghai.
The lodge rooms ooze history, the fruit of Susan Degive's exhaustive research and indefatigable Internet shopping. Each is unique, reflecting the life of one of the Big Four, plus one for Central Pacific engineer Theodore Judah. They still have their original claw-foot bathtubs (cabin rooms have double whirlpools). The rooms were arranged with one door opening onto the 12- foot-deep swimming pool -- now covered by an atrium and spa -- and another onto the deck with views that go on forever. All have private bathrooms, gas fireplaces, cable TV, VCR/DVD, high-speed Internet connections and ceiling fans.
The inn is set on 5 acres, a fraction of the original Crocker estate, but deer, red-tailed foxes, wild turkeys, quail and even ducks still flourish. As we walked back to our cabin after a late breakfast, a jackrabbit, cloaked in mist rolling up from the valley, darted in front of us. I imagined he was as glad as I was that it is just us plebeians, and not the gun-toting gentlemen, who share their woodsy sanctuary now.
E-mail Christine Delsol at travel@sfchronicle.com
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