Humboldt Über Alles

Sometimes, when I mention going to Humboldt for a holiday, people get a faraway look in their eyes and a smile creeps up. They are, I’m pretty sure, imaginging me camped out for a week in a Vanagon, smoking my lungs out. Humboldt, after all, is synonymous for many with weed. Mary Jane. Marijuana. Stinky grass.

Seattle to So. Humboldt

But when we go to Humboldt, it’s to spend some time in the cozy little cabin that lies down the hill from where Sky’s mom and step-mom live. The cabin was built by his moms, Kathy & Katie, and when they moved to New York they sold their half of the land to Sky’s dad. The cabin is home for visitors: friends, family, friends of family. It’s also our home for things we find in thrift stores, and a place where we can be close to Sky’s childhood. I love it there.

Sky making us some breakfast

The cabin is the perfect compromise between comfort and roughing it: there’s an outhouse, but there’s also electricity; hot water, but no dishwasher (OK, so I’ve never lived anywhere with a dishwasher); it’s chilly in the winter, but there’s a wood stove; there’s no internet or phone service, but you can hike up the hill to the big house to get wi-fi. Mice keep the cabin company when there’s no one staying there, which results in mice poo, but also makes it feel like the place is always home to someone.

If we go in the Summer, there’s the almighty hammock that hangs between two big leafy trees. If we go in the winter, there’s that wood stove and big cozy afghans. We spend most of our time in the cabin reading or napping or cooking and baking.

But most importantly, there are lots of people we love who live down there. We spend a lot of time visiting the awesome women who have known Sky since he was wee — they have great dogs, make us delicious salads, show us their gardens, and tell us about their amazing lives. Most of them left big cities to live off the land in the 70s; a lot of them spent time in San Francisco or Berkeley during the heady Summer of Love, and have seen every band I love twice; some of them were hardcore activists — they’ve got great stories to tell. I feel like we always come back wiser. Wiser, and rested.

You can see LOTS more in the way of Humboldt photos here, in my newly minted “Humboldt” collection.