Why I Live Here

Neil Young in the NY Times, October 2012

Sometimes I complain about where I live.

I feel perpetually torn between where I grew up (Western Mass), where I live now (Marin County, just north of San Francisco) and where I once lived and left my heart (the Pacific Northwest). Recently, I had lunch with a friend who lives on Ocean Beach in San Francisco. I expressed envy at her sweet little flat-on-the-sea in the quietest, least hipster part of the city. She suggested that I move to O.B.

But there is something that keeps me in Marin, and has brought me back to Marin over and over again since I first moved here in 2000 — twelve years ago! — in a misguided guy-follow that quickly went awry. There is no avoiding the fact that Mill Valley (the hoity-toity Marin town I live in) is a suburb. It’s right over the Golden Gate Bridge from San Francisco, a 15-minute drive from the urban-proper, and there is definitely an outdoor mall within quick driving distance from my house.

But Mill Valley does not feel like a suburb. There are hiking trails walking distance from my doorstep and deer in my yard. I can hear coyotes shrieking at dusk and have spotted bobcats, wild turkeys and a bunnies galore in Tennessee Valley, a slice of national parkland a mile from where I live. I can walk to the ocean; I can scale a small mountain. I can smell Eucalyptus trees if I open my window.

These and other things about Marin continue to impress me day after week after year. It’s definitely not the people; it’s not the high cost of living (truly redonquilous); it’s not the dog poop glitter fairy on my favorite trails (not cool, you freak). It’s this:

The 15-minute trek over Mt Tam to the Parkside Cafe in Stinson Beach on Sunday morning, where on a recent weekend I had the best breakfast of my life before I…

Subsequently went on to Bolinas to hike from Palomarin trailhead along the sunny, epic bluffs of Bolinas Coast, past Bass Lake and Pelican Lake, to Alamere Falls.

Actual photo I took on the way to Alamere Falls in the mist a few years ago.

Evening walks through Tennessee Valley, listening to podcasts while I stroll to the beach to then swing my legs on the bench while looking out at the Pacific and thinking about my mistakes.

The beach at the end of the Tennessee Valley trail is the gold at the end of the rain…. well whatever, you get the point.

The Mill Valley library, the best place on earth. Books, redwood trees and no talking. The perfect trifecta. 

I have no idea who this guy is and I can’t remember why I took his picture, but.

Good Earth in Fairfax. What Whole Foods wishes it was.

By the way, there is also plenty to love about living so close to San Francisco. This past weekend was one of the most happening weekends of the year in the city by the bay. However, one of the only downsides about living in Marin is that you can’t easily take public transportation into the city (the ferry doesn’t count because it takes ten hours and makes me seasick and only goes downtown), so driving can be a holy nightmare. A friend and I sucked it up and went to Hardly Strictly (an annual free bluegrass festival in Golden Gate Park which is truly epic) on Sunday, but we didn’t have the stamina to repeat the whole endeavor on Sunday, so instead we went and got manipedis in downtown DTMV (downtown Mill Valley, if you’re a local) — prompting us to coin the term “suburban pussies.” You can use it.

More creepy landscapes I’ve taken.