Lisa Snider

The Clench Cottage

2010-11-08T09:40:00.000-08:00

The Clench Cottage

When a Ventura couple set out to remodel their Midtown house, they turned to its architectural history for inspiration. The result—a revamped abode that stays true to its original time period—is a link to the past in a changing city.

By Lisa Snider—Photographs by Gaszton Gal

When owners Ken and Karen Clench decided to add onto their 85-year-old Craftsman-inspired bungalow on Poli Street in Midtown Ventura, the 40-something couple readily admit they didn’t know what they were in for. Reflecting on the five-year project, Karen initially had trouble recalling just when the endeavor began.

“Things that are painful, you block out,” she says, adding, “It was supposed to be a four-month building project.”

Karen, a software and database developer, bought the house in 1994. She loved the original enclosed sun porch and the tasteful updates made by the previous owner, including granite counters in the kitchen. “I couldn’t afford the house,” she says, “But I wanted it.”

That early ‘90s remodel opened up the front room to create a vaulted ceiling. The addition of glass block windows around the marble fireplace created privacy while allowing natural light to filter in, and lends to the Art Deco feel of the space. The dining room has two original built-in china cabinets with glass fronts.

The original owners were Elwin and Mabel Pendergast, who in 1925 built what Karen figures was a Sears kit house. Their granddaughter came by one day with old photographs of the house, which now adorn the hallway.

Soon Karen met Ken, now an employee with the Oxnard Parks Department. They were married in 1998 and a few years later their daughter, Sarah, was born. A growing family meant growing needs, chief among them: space. With just 1,184 square feet and a single bathroom, they needed more room.

In 2004, the house was featured in the San Buenaventura Conservancy’s home look-in tour and was dubbed The Clench Cottage. Ken and Karen knew they were residing in a historical gem and decided the following year to proceed with a remodel that would give them more room while preserving the property’s roots and character. “We wanted the addition to look seamless,” says Ken, who had a hand in the house’s wood restorations.

Initially they planned to build upward, but a second story proved cost-prohibitive. “We had to pull back because of funding,” says Karen. After a couple years of design modifications with their architect, city planners approved their drawings in late 2007. More plan changes were made in late 2008, and in April of 2009, the nine-month construction of the 400-square-foot addition finally began.

The family had hoped to live in the house during construction, but their only bathroom was right where the new master bedroom would be. Karen and Sarah moved in with Ken’s mother nearby, and Ken stayed on to supervise construction. He convinced the builder to devise makeshift temporary plumbing. “The back of my shower was a piece of plywood,” he says. He even used the builder’s portable toilet. According to Karen, he was living like a caveman.

Meanwhile, Karen studied magazines like Sunset and the book Bungalow by Jane Powell to come up with the design inspirations for the bathrooms. She found the hexagonal tile pattern for the master bathroom— something Ken’s 80-year-old mother remembers from her childhood home—on the Internet, which also yielded bargains and historically significant materials. “I was a compulsive Craigslister!” admits Karen. The website led her to a nearby home where the owners were selling 1918 interior doors, which Ken turned into sliding closet doors for their master bedroom. Karen also used eBay, where she came across a lovely 1925 pale green sink for the powder room. And, after looking from New York to Ohio for the perfect deep-soaking bathtub for Sarah’s bathroom, Karen ended up finding an impressively-sized Art Deco tub right here in Ventura at Vick’s Plumbing.

Intent on putting his woodworking skills to work and recycling wherever possible, Ken turned a scrap from an old redwood water tank into a countertop for the new indoor laundry room. He also saved the house’s old Douglas fir studs so he could make what is now their master bathroom vanity.

The floors would be the last piece of the puzzle to tie everything in the house together. The master bedroom’s Brazilian cherry floors came from an old barn, built in 1925 on the local Vanoni farm. Ken bought a metal detector, took out the nails, and had each board re-milled.

The couple wanted to make sure the continuation of the Douglas fir floors from the front of the house to the where the new addition began was flawless, and Karen again struck Internet gold when she discovered Douglas fir floor boards on Craigslist. And here’s that date again: the floors were dated 1925—the year the house was built. Ken just shakes his head, looks at Karen, and smiles. “I know,” he says, “it is kind of freaky. It all worked out.”

Click here for the full story with photos as published October 2010 in Ventana Monthly magazine.

Vino V and Winemaker Michael Meagher

2010-10-28T10:19:00.000-07:00

I thought it fitting to re-post this story from 2009 today since Vino V's winemaker Michael Meagher is officially opening his tasting room this weekend:

Vino V

A Ventura love affair comes full circle for winemaker Michael Meagher

By Lisa Snider

Winemaker Michael Meagher has a love of wine that goes back some 25 years. It all started in 1984 while working at Trader Joe's in Ventura, where he met his wife, Anita. Every Friday, their employer had them taste wine. At the time, Michael was pursuing other interests at Ventura College, but the wine steered him in a new direction. "I actually changed majors because of it,” he says. “It seemed like a great way to live.”

Meagher set off to attend U.C. Davis where, in 1990, he received his degree in oenology. Soon he was making wine in the Santa Cruz hills at Mount Eden Vineyards. In 1998 he returned to Ventura County, and in 2000 took a job working for five harvests with Adam Tolmach of The Ojai Vineyard. He developed an appreciation for small lot, high-end, handcrafted wines, but longed to have his own label. "In 2004, I was looking for a place to make my wine," says Meagher, adding, “At some point you just say, ‘I gotta do this.’”
Eventually, he talked to John Whitman of Old Creek Ranch Winery in Ojai, who made him a generous offer to house his operations on the property. The partnership recently led to another opportunity when Whitman’s winemaker retired; Meagher now serves double-duty as Old Creek’s winemaker.

With few grapes grown in Ventura County, mostly because of the region’s susceptibility to the devastation of Pierce’s disease (which wiped out all of Old Creek’s vines), Meagher started buying chardonnay, syrah, and pinot noir grapes from Santa Barbara County. He soon created the Vino V label—V standing for Ventura. Looking back on his decision, he thinks out loud, “It's the dream you always have."

Today, he is producing some 500 cases a year and his wine is getting noticed, mostly through word of mouth because he doesn’t have a distributor. "It's a real trip with selling wine … I have so much respect for salespeople,” says Meagher. He sells to his private mailing list and upscale restaurants including Brooks in Ventura, Spago in Los Angeles, and Bouchon in Santa Barbara.

Last fall, Vino V was the featured wine at an Outstanding in the Field event at Earthtrine Farm in Ojai. The highly regarded international event partners foodies with farmers, chefs, and winemakers. Being selected to provide wine to match the food of chef Josh Brown, who runs the kitchens at two of Santa Barbara’s best restaurants—Bouchon and Seagrass—proved that Vino V had arrived.

During the growing season, Meagher makes frequent trips to see how the grapes are faring and talk with the growers. He gets involved and gets his hands dirty. “You have to,” he says. “I’ve really learned that there’s so much you can do in the vineyard that determines what you see in the bottle.”

When it’s time to harvest, it becomes a family affair. "Our vacations are work," he says, recalling a 4 a.m. wakeup call when he, Anita, their nine-year-old son, and five-year-old daughter went to pick grapes.
“Last year, [our son] Jack helped pick this chardonnay,” he says, holding up a bottle made from grapes grown at Solomon Hills Vineyard, a spot he chose because of its cool climate and ideal location in the westernmost part of the Santa Maria Valley. The food-friendly finished product was aged for 17 months—half in oak, half in stainless steel—resulting in a well-rounded chardonnay displaying aromas of toast, apple, and citrus.

The wine Meagher is most proud of, though, is his syrah, from White Hawk Vineyard in the northern Santa Ynez Valley near Los Alamos—another location with a relatively cool climate. “It’s a really special vineyard,” he says. Aged for 20 months, this beautiful, inky red is spicy with pepper and blue fruits.
Meagher’s signature winemaking is more artistic than scientific; it’s all about individuality and the process he loves, which favors quality over quantity. "I like balance, something more restrained, lower in alcohol," he says.

Looking ahead to his next bottling, Meagher is focused. "I want to make really distinct, amazing wine," says the winemaker, who is proud of his accomplishments thus far. "It takes a lot of work to do it—and I do it. You can taste it in the wine."

On the Chanterelle Trail

2010-10-28T10:16:00.000-07:00

On the Chanterelle Trail

For those in the know, the local backcountry holds a cachet of gastronomic delights.

By Lisa Snider

Out in the backcountry of the Los Padres National Forest, a hunter stalks his prey with a quiet determination and a fierce resolve. Armed only with a pocket knife and a canvas bag to stow his harvest, the hunter is careful to hide all traces of his exploits. As soon as he is home with his prize, he cleans it meticulously and tosses the flesh into a hot pan then devours every morsel.

“It’s so good with just butter and salt on toast,” says hunter Tim Lindemann. “A hint of white wine is good, too,” adds fellow hunter Will Silver.

Lindemann and Silver are among a handful of avid hunters—mushroom hunters—who forage the oaks of the Los Padres for the ultimate prize: the coveted chanterelle mushroom. Cultivated varieties aren't nearly as good as the untamed fungi that are hunted down in the wild. Some are stolen from the Los Padres, and some are taken with permission by permitted commercial collectors then sold to local restaurants. But many are harvested by hobbyists like Lindemann and Silver, who make friends and family swoon when they come home with scrumptious chanterelles.

The chanterelle is a trumpet-shaped, firm, fleshy, symbiotic root fungus that grows locally on the roots of oak trees. Their season runs from fall to spring, usually following a decent rainstorm. According to Dr. Steve Norris, a local natural history authority and lecturer for California State University Channel Islands, the best place to find mushrooms is in the backcountry. "You've got to get in the forest where there is moisture in the soil," says Norris.

Lindemann, a 34-year-old Santa Barbara native, picked his first mushroom when he was 10. An avid outdoorsman, he knows every nook and cranny of the coastal mountain backcountry of Ventura and Santa Barbara Counties. As a graduate of UC Santa Cruz, with a bachelor’s degree in biology, he spent a fair amount of time learning mycology, the study of fungi.

Despite his years of study, he is also keenly aware of the dangers that come with picking mushrooms. “There is always some risk to wild mushroom collecting,” says Lindemann. Recoun-ting the stories of the genus Amanita, also known as the “death cap,” he explains this is a variety that has killed mushroom experts the most often. This is why he sticks with the chanterelle—because of all the wild mushrooms available in our area, it is the easiest to recognize. “It has very identifiable characteristics.”

The chanterelle doesn’t have gills like those you’d find on the underside of a portabello; they have wrinkles. Also, they don’t have pores, which are typical with Boletus varieties such as porcinis, nor do they have a cap like you’d see on traditional grocery store varieties. In the wild, they are most easily found atop the roots of oak trees, usually buried under the leaves. The only clue might be a tiny orange lip peeking out. Closer inspection, however, may reveal an entire patch.

“It’s kind of like an Easter egg hunt,” says Lindemann.

But this is a variety shrouded in secrecy. The rich, dense flavor and limited availability of chanterelles contributes to prices running anywhere from $25 to $40 per pound. Hunters keep their hunting grounds in the strictest confidence, because, as Lindemann says, “They tend to come up at the same place every year.”

So why not capitalize on their finds? For one thing, Lindemann says, “Selling is a bit tricky.” Anything more than a handful requires a permit, and when taken in larger quantities a collector’s license is required. Another challenge with wild mushroom collecting is finding them—which usually entails a pretty ambitious hike. And after hours on the trail, there are no guarantees, as the chanterelle can be elusive. But the biggest challenge is cleaning them and either getting them on the table immediately, or freezing them after they’ve been cooked and all the moisture has been forced out. Chanterelles are highly perishable, and getting them to market is extremely labor intensive.

“It’s somewhat of a time sensitive thing,” explains Silver, a full-time landscape contractor who grew up with Lindemann. “Yeah, and we both have day jobs!” adds Lindemann, a full-time glass artist.

But you don’t have to hike for miles in the backcountry or risk misidentifying a potentially toxic mushroom for the opportunity to feast on the chanterelle, because we’re coming into the season when local restaurants will have them on special. Tim Kilcyone, the chef at The SideCar Restaurant in Ventura, is a big fan of wild chanterelles. “They’re actually one of my favorite mushrooms,” he says, “the flavor of them, the earthiness. Because they’re wild and not cultivated, you have to wait for the perfect temperature and the rain.” Their limited availability makes it all the more special for Kilcyone, who can’t resist when someone shows up at his back door with chanterelles for sale.

“They’re great with a big red wine, a Cab or a Bordeaux,” he says. So next time you see the storm clouds gathering, pour yourself a glass and get ready!

Do not eat wild mushrooms unless they have been identified by an expert and cooked.

Click here to read the story with photos, as published in Ventana Monthly magazine October 2007.

Tree Huggers: The Whitman Residence

2010-10-28T10:06:00.000-07:00

Tree Huggers

Gaudi-esque flamboyance gets back to nature at the Ojai home of Marc and Julia Whitman.

By Lisa Snider—Photos by Gaszton gal

Nested into Ojai’s backcountry near Lake Casitas is a hidden architectural gem that masterfully merges art and craftsmanship with nature to create a residence that is one with the surrounding oak-studded property.
The home was a 15-year labor of love that Marc and Julia Whitman began designing shortly after they were married in 1986. As a wedding present, Julia’s parents, John and Melody Taft, signed over a one-bedroom cabin on a 40-acre parcel of the family’s 320-acre compound. Initially, Marc says, Julia did not warm to the idea of moving back home. But Marc saw great potential: “I knew this was a really special spot and we would never find anything like it, or be able to afford anything like it.” Taking in the breathtaking surroundings, he adds, “I can’t think of anywhere else in the world I would rather be.”

The tiny cabin, built in the 1930s as a fishing outpost, had one bathroom, a fireplace, and no power or hot water. Before the newlyweds moved in, they fixed up the 700-square-foot space and added electricity and a water heater. To give themselves more room and accommodate their growing family (today they have a 19-year-old daughter and a 23-year-old son), an upstairs room was added, but it could only be accessed from outside.

Marc, who had just started an architectural firm in Ojai, promised Julia the cabin would become their dream home and started to draft the plans. In 1987, he gave her a Christmas gift of an architectural rendering showing how he imagined the home would one day look. Today, that signed drawing hangs on an interior wall.

A heritage coastal live oak that grew behind the cabin, adjacent to Santa Ana Creek, inspired the home’s design, as did the work of Spanish Gothic architect Antoni Gaudi. As an architecture student, Marc had traveled to Spain, where he visited Gaudi’s most famous work, La Sagrada Familia church. Its style resonated with the Ojai native, whose designs, like Gaudi, are rooted in nature. He gravitates toward organic shapes and curves; Julia, who also grew up in rural Upper Ojai, refers to her husband’s style as “feminine” and “sculptural.”

Over the years, Marc has worked on many residential and commercial projects in the local area. “I love the whole magical aspect of taking ideas and then they become a physical reality,” he says. But after so much time working to manifest his clients’ artistic and creative expressions, Marc found himself asking, “What's my expression?”

Five years ago, that question was answered when Marc and Julia’s dream home finally became a reality. Named for the property’s singing frogs, “La Rana Canta” feels cozy and inviting, although it has grown to 4000 square feet. Ceilings billow gracefully over gently curving arches that rise from columns resembling tree trunks. The oak tree that had grown behind the little cabin became the new home’s centerpiece, and Marc went to great lengths to care for its roots by hand-pouring and hand-digging the concrete foundations. One of the home’s five fireplaces is original, as is an exterior staircase and the front porch. “We wanted to keep as much of the original cabin intact as possible,” says Marc.

From all angles, large windows gaze high into the tree. Ascending the stairs to the second and third floors makes you feel as if you're actually climbing into the tree itself. Marc’s artistic handiwork is evident in the smallest details, including his own tile mosaic of the tree, given a prominent place in the third-floor bathroom.

In the master bedroom, a Gaudi-inspired balcony is made to give the impression of sitting amongst tree limbs while looking down into the flowing water of Santa Ana Creek, which usually runs year-round. Bird feeders are placed strategically and see a lot of activity. “Instead of watching TV in the morning, we watch the birds,” says Julia.

With the Los Padres National Forest as their backyard, wildlife is abundant. Hawks, owls, coyotes, herons, bobcats, ringtail cats, and foxes are frequent visitors. Marc has even seen a mountain lion, and has had more than one run-in with a raccoon inside the house looking for food.

One would think that such a rural setting would yield silent evenings, but the rushing creek waters, singing frogs, and even an occasional snorting bear remind the couple they are not alone. “We're in the hub of the wildlife world,” says Marc.

With an exterior that at first blush appears grand and whimsical, the interior, by contrast, is fluid and intimate. “It's a very livable house,” says Julia, who set out after construction to choose the home’s tasteful interior finishes.

The signature space and focal point is the outdoor living room on the ground floor. Its sensuous curves, ivory columns, giant fireplace, and overhead skylight are wrapped in gorgeous draperies, which are pulled aside to welcome guests. As the home’s largest room, it becomes the perfect place for entertaining. Marc and Julia have strong ties to the community and often host fundraisers for their favorite charities, including the Ojai Education Foundation (which Julia’s family helped found), the Ojai Film Festival, and the Ojai Music Festival.

Reflecting on the 15 years of dreaming, designing, and living in an unfinished construction project, Julia is proud of the home her husband built. “It turned out perfect,” she says, adding, “Now that we have finally graduated into this, I can’t quite imagine how we lived all those years the other way.”

Fitness Columns

2010-10-28T09:59:00.000-07:00

Lisa first became interested in fitness when her P.E. teacher told her she threw like a girl. In the 80’s she was intrigued by leg warmers. Today she hikes and does Pilates. And she still throws like a girl.

Click to read Lisa's fitness column in the VC Reporter (newest artcles at the bottom):

Hiking in Ojai, as published in the annual '07 Fitness Guide
Yoga, as published in the annual '05 Fitness Guide

Monthly columns:
Runners Do Weird Things, on sleeping next to a half marathoner
Grace to Spare, on Pilates PILATES PODCAST
To Gym or Not To Gym, on finding your perfect fitness match
Returning from illness or injury, on getting back in the game
Men's Health for Father's Day, Taking the Y chromosome to the M.D.
A Pedestrian Pursuit, Leisurely walks can grow to fitness routine
A Fitness Plan That’s All Wet, Here’s a tip: Take a dip
Fitness without the fitness center, Getting in shape at home
Rock out, Getting a total body workout by climbing
Not just a pretty name, Rolfing expands on massage experience
The Hula Hoop Proxy, BodyHoops
A Recipe for Fitness, the perfect meal
Fitness Fashion, I'm not working a runway, I'm working my abs
Mental Fitness, Train your brain
A good night's rest, the elusive pursuit
Ergonomics, Making sure your boss is your only pain in the ass at work
Corporate Fitness, Exercise well-suited for the workplace
Why so hypertense? Getting control of high blood pressure
The stay-cation, Stay fit, stay healthy, stay solvent, stay home
Skin Protection, a summer guide to preventing skin cancer
Digestive Health, tips to keep you regular
A healthy diet, Sometimes it's the little things that count most
Fitness disguised as fun gets the job done
Decision 2008: How to cope with the stress
Beefcake: it's not what women want
Surviving the Holidays: Your 2008 Guide
Resolve to make resolutions you will keep
Chocolate: more than just a Valentine Day indulgence
Zen and the art of working out: making the mind-body connection
Colorful Dining: look to the rainbow to make healthy meal choices
Short Workouts: carve out just a few minutes throughout the day
Sleep: Skip the propofol and choose to sleep the old-fashioned way
Wine: A glass a day keeps the doctor away?
Kids' Health: Back to school lessons in moderation and nutrition at the farmers market
Breast Health: How are your ta-tas?
Avoiding Illness: More tips than just washing your hands
Acupuncture: Get stuck with needles (Fitness, Health and Beauty Guide - January 2010)
Self Talk: It's OK to talk to yourself, just make sure you say nice things!
Be A Competitor! (January 2010)
Cardio Counts! (March 2010)
My Favorite Foods (April 2010)
Your Own Home Gym (May 2010)
Fun in the Sun (June 2010)
Fitness Core Values (July 2010)
Sun Protection and a Rogue Freckle (August 2010)
Eat Local (September 2010)
Rethink Your Drink (October 2010)

An Urban Hike in Ventura

2010-10-27T14:54:00.000-07:00

EVERY WEDNESDAY
Ventura eve hike is the place to be
By Lisa Snider

When I decided to go on the Ventura Urban Hike on a Wednesday evening, I had no idea what a loyal following this weekly trek has developed over the last twelve years.

At least fifty hikers met at the fountain across from the Mission in downtown Ventura for the four-and-a-half-miler.

Hikers are shown on the way to Grant Park, the Wednesday evening outing lead by Kurt Pressler, which goes in a circle from
the San Buenaventura Mission up to the park, to the pier and back. (Photo by Kurt Pressler)
At 7 p.m. on the dot, we began our leisurely two-hour journey from downtown Ventura, up to Grant Park and Father Serra’s Cross, along the hillside, through town, across a freeway footbridge, down to the pier, over to Surfer’s Point, up the Ventura River and back to the San Buenaventura Mission. Except for a short optional detour at the top, the entire hike is atop paved surfaces. It starts out pretty ambitiously, ascending a staircase from Main Street all the way up to Poli Street, but clearly I was the only one fazed. Regulars chatted and caught up on the week’s events, digging their heels in with little effort. Once we hit the last step and crossed the street, the real climb began. Just as I was looking for sherpas and oxygen (we gained 387 feet in just 20 minutes), we made our way to the cross, where the reward was spectacular panoramic vistas all the way to the Channel Islands. One hiker, Letty Ortiz of the Ventura Housing Authority, has been enjoying this social hike with friends and coworkers for the past two years. “I like the conversations that we have while walking.” For Ortiz, it’s more than a physical workout, and the part of the trail she likes the most is the stroll along the beach. “That’s the place that’s the most calming.”

Long time Sierra Club member Kurt Preissler has been leading the Ventura Urban Hike every Wednesday evening for two years. Preissler, a 47-year-old photographer who owns a media services company in Ventura, leads the group, which sometimes hovers over 100; rain, shine or dark of night (most bring flashlights in winter), even on holidays, when the event still manages to bring out some 25 people or more.

This time of year, the Ventura Urban Hike is particularly popular due to the high summer temperatures on the inland trails. “A lot of people don’t really know how to hike in the heat,” said Preissler, encouraging locals to come out on this cool evening hike.

Near the cross, a sign tells of recent mountain lion sightings, but Preissler said that shouldn’t deter folks from joining them. “The numbers that we are and the noise that we make, I really don’t think a mountain lion is going to approach us,” adding the familiar adage that there is safety in numbers.

“The best way to be safe is to hike with us,” said Preissler, also inviting the Santa Barbara, Arguello and Conejo groups to join in the fun, too, which oftentimes ends with snacks and beverages at Busy Bee Diner on Main a block up from the mission. For more information on the Ventura Urban Hike go to: www.LosPadres.SierraClub.org/Sespe

As published in the Sierra Club's Condor Call August/September 2008.

Santa Monica Mountains (SAMO) Youth Group

2010-10-27T14:42:00.000-07:00

Amarú Moses spent his summer doing what most teenagers try their best to avoid. He pulled weeds, repaired fences, cut down trees and hauled debris. And he loved every minute of it.

“It would be hard to match this experience,” says the 17-year-old Hueneme High School senior, who was among 4 students in the Oxnard Union High School District selected to work last summer for the National Park Service. Amarú and 11 other teens in the Santa Monica Mountains (SAMO) Youth Group awoke each morning at 5:00 a.m. before heading out to the trails of the 153,000-acre Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, the world's largest urban national park.

As Biological Science Aides, the SAMO Youth Group was primarily responsible for plant ecology restoration, which involved manual weeding and solarization (watering an area then covering it with a plastic tarp). They also helped maintain a native plant nursery and rebuilt a corral for 2 grazing horses at Rancho Sierra Vista.

Saturdays offered a welcomed respite from their daily labor in the hot sun to work with Park Service Interpreters. For their interpretation, called "We Go Eco," they set-up displays and provided information to the public about Chumash culture.

Amarú, a runner on Hueneme High’s cross country team, heard about the summer job through his coach. “The whole outdoor experience has made me see a whole new job for myself,” said the teen, who is currently applying to colleges in Northern California and on the east cost.

The best part of Amarú’s summer with the park service was the week-long trip to Santa Cruz Island, the largest of the Channel Islands. Most of the week was spent eradicating 470 non-native Eucalyptus trees. Eucalyptus are an invasive species that take as much as 10 times the water of other native plants, so the group had their work cut out for them.

The team stayed in Prisoner’s Bay at the UC Field Station in a dormitory with bunk beds. They did their own cooking and cleaning and after an 8-hour workday, spent their leisure time hiking and swimming, either at a nearby swimming hole or at the beach.

The work not only offered a paycheck and new friends, but a new education and a bond with supervisors, who treated them as employees, not students. “They told us what we did made a difference.” Amarú plans to return next summer before heading off to college. “It was the first time I ever had to do really hard manual labor so it was a really good learning experience.”

For more information about the Santa Monica Mountains National Recreation Area, visit their website at www.nps.gov/samo.

Photo Credits: Cesar Tejeda, Antonio Solorio

Published Fall 2006 in the Sierra Club's Condor Call.

Wildflowers of Ojai's Ilvento Preserve

2010-10-27T14:40:00.000-07:00

Last month, The Ojai Valley Land Conservancy guided a private hike on the Ilvento Preserve in Ojai, providing hikers with a once a year opportunity to experience the 80-acre property. I heard about the hike from Rich Handley, Preserve Manager for the OVLC, the nonprofit which owns and manages the property, and decided it was time to get some fresh dirt on my boots.

We made our way to the trailhead which abuts Thacher School just east of the Horn Canyon trailhead at the east end of the Ojai Valley. About 20 hikers joined the 2-mile trek, with notebooks and pencils at the ready to record wildflower sightings. The preserves chaparral ridge, known for its dramatic topographical relief, plant diversity and important wildlife corridors, was deeded over to the OVLC by the Ilvento Family in 1997 and became the Conservancy’s first successful land acquisition. Rich served as our guide and plant expert for the 2-hour botanical expedition.

Though 80% of the preserve was burned in a wildfire in 1999, its recovery has been steady and strong, yielding tremendous spring color and lush green plant life. Rich pointed out many of the property’s 150 plant species, most of which were in full bloom. Among the wildflower sightings were: Sticky Monkey Flower, Fiesta Flowers, Chinese Houses, Blue Larkspur, Hummingbird Sage, Wild Peony and Wild Hyacinth.

We marched our way single-file up the narrow trail and soon reached the high point of the Ilvento at 2,024 feet. We took a moment to take in panoramic views down the valley to Lake Casitas and up to the Topa Topa Mountain and Chief Peak. Rich pointed out the important geological features of the preserve and its surroundings using an old, but still relevant, Thomas Dibley map.

As we made our ascent, many of us had to stop to flick and swat away dozens of heat-seeking ticks! It seems that recent rains provided a perfect breeding environment for the little buggers. Having forgotten one of the cardinal rules of hiking by not dousing ourselves in DEET, we found it necessary to perform an on the spot de-lousing. Fortunately, no one got bitten, but we all vowed to remember the bug spray next time.

With notebooks filled with flora findings, the wildflower seekers concluded the hike more than satisfied.

The OVLC conducts a series of free guided hikes on their properties, sometimes providing access to areas you normally can’t get to. Hikes focusing on plant and bird life are offered on a regular basis, and self-guided enthusiasts on horseback or bicycle will also find excellent trails. For more information on the OVLC or to find out about their guided hikes, check-out their website at www.ovlc.org for dates, times and reservation information.

Published April 2006 in the Sierra Club's Condor Call.

Whale Watching in the Channel Islands

2010-10-27T14:29:00.001-07:00

I had the good fortune of embarking on a terrific adventure recently in search of the Pacific Gray Whale. And it turns out the search was easy, especially since the whales are now mid-migration lumbering through the Santa Barbara Channel from the icy waters of Northern Alaska to the warm and buoyant lagoons off Baja California, Mexico.

On a clear sunny January afternoon, my husband, Bill, and I made our way down to Ventura Harbor and checked in with Island Packers, authorized concessionaire to the Channel Islands National Park. Although they reported that the morning outing was “a bit bumpy,” there had been successful sightings of Grays making their way through the channel.

Encouraged and bracing our sea legs for the bumpy ride, we quickly got underway while a volunteer with the Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary briefed us on the curious instinctive habits of these gentle giants. In December, the whales begin a southern migration from their home waters to make the 10-14,000 mile roundtrip journey to breed and birth in more favorable temperatures further south. Our docent also detailed the feeding habits of these baleen whales, with broom-like fibers in the place of teeth to act as an excellent filtering system when feeding at the bottom of the ocean. She explained that the whales wouldn’t be feeding much now, though, since most of their food is consumed in the summer months.

While we had clear sunny skies on our side, we had unusually choppy turbulent waters and winds to contend with due to off-shore storms in the Pacific. We would soon find that “bumpy” was a bit of an understatement, but this didn’t impede our quest to find the Gray, unaffected by the chop and not at all shy of stalking boats keeping a respectful distance.

As we closed in on Santa Cruz Island, the Captain bellowed, “Thar she blows!” We surged to a halt, came about and found ourselves in the path of a Minke Whale. Although not a common sighting, these whales do find their way into the channel periodically to feed. Much smaller than the Pacific Gray, adult males average 26 feet, whereas the Gray averages in the low to mid 40’s. Its dorsal fin, in sharp contrast to the Gray which has none, made it easy to spot.

With the ocean churning in time with my stomach, turning my pallor a lovely shade of green, we ventured on to find the Gray. We were now right in the middle of the parade route, so a sighting would be any moment, the Captain promised. “The Islander” chugged along and soon we were in the bottleneck, the area between Anacapa and Santa Cruz islands. The winds and the seas calmed almost instantly and sure enough, we found ourselves a Gray. It spouted twice, then showed us its impressive flukes before sounding, or making a deep dive, for about 7 or 8 minutes.

I’m ashamed to report that the last time I went whale watching was on a seventh grade field trip in San Diego. Yet, here we are in one of the most spectacular regions for sightings and in prime season. Boasting an impressive collection of some 28 species of whales and dolphins right off our coast, a trip to the Channel Islands is well worth the boat ride, bumpy as it might be.

So as my color brightens, I find I’m waiting breathlessly for our whale to reappear, which she surely does. And the entire boat gasps and whoops when she spouts. No, this is no grade-school field trip, this is a spectacle of grand proportion, at least 30 tons worth anyway, spouting and diving gracefully in front of our boat. To think this creature will make the sojourn all the way to Mexico, to mate or calve, only to turn around and make the long swim home in just a couple of months, is nothing short of amazing. We spot another Gray, then return to the harbor.

As we head back, ginger-ale in hand, I wonder if perhaps I’ll find calmer waters in late February or March and join Island Packers once again to spot the newborns making their way to their new home in Alaska. They say they travel closer to the coast then. Maybe I’ll see you out there!

FAST FACTS:December to mid-April, Island Packers offers daily excursions from their locations in Oxnard and Ventura. Boats depart morning and afternoon for 3-3½ hour tours. Fares are $26 for adults, $22 for seniors and $17 for children. Call 642-1393 for information and reservations. Their website, www.islandpackers.com provides a wealth of information about the whales and the other inhabitants of the channel and the islands as well as details about the many island trips they offer. The website also has informative links related to resources in the Channel Islands National Park & Channel Islands National Marine Sanctuary.

SIDE BAR:

Other operators in the region:

Santa Barbara:

Condor Express – from Santa Barbara Harbor, www.condorcruises.com,

882-0088

Captain Don's Whale Watching – from Stearn’s Wharf, www.captdon.com,

969-5217

Channel Islands Harbor in Oxnard:

Channel Islands Sport Fishing, www.channelislandssportfishing.com

382-1612

Published February 2006 in the Sierra Club's Condor Call.

Piedra Blanca

2010-10-27T14:25:00.000-07:00

For my birthday I got a walking stick and a pair of rock climbing shoes, so I decided to break them in at Piedra Blanca. This is an easy hike in the Sespe Wilderness, about 20 miles up the 33 from Ojai. I convinced my husband, Bill, to join me, who always proves to be a first-rate hiking companion (he carries the water).

After stopping at the Wheeler Gorge Visitors Center for a $5.00 day-use Adventure Pass, we continued up the 33 then took the Rose Valley turn-off and drove 6.6 miles until it dead-ended at a day-use parking lot. There were only about a half dozen cars parked and from the lot we could see the many white rock formations of Piedra Blanca just to the north.

Since the trail is currently being re-routed to rehabilitate the Arroyo Toad, we knew we would have a couple of extra creek crossings. So with my Summit Trekking Pole at the ready, I wobbled across with a stealth precision that caused my husband to break out into a sweat as he watched and waited for several minutes ahead of me on the shore. When I landed with dry feet on the other side, he let out his breath, shook his head and smiled. We did this twice more, and Bill was equally entertained each time.

The route is fairly well marked until you come to a fork, which deceptively appears could lead you to the rocks either way. We went left when we should have gone right, but that was easily corrected with a quick turnaround 10 minutes later. The trail is relatively flat with a comfortable overall elevation gain of 300 feet. We trekked about a mile and a half total, mostly through chaparral and manzanita.

And then we landed on the moon.

It was absolutely spectacular. Quite suddenly, the landscape changes from thick brush to smooth sandstone. The breeze was really kicking up, too, but it was welcomed after the brisk hike. The sun was bright overhead, not a cloud it the sky, so the valley surrounding us looked like you could reach out and grab it. We found a shady spot to cool off with some water and snacks before setting off on our “bouldering” quest.

I readily spotted several areas where I could scramble around without the need for harness or ropes. This would be the perfect place to break in my new Sportivas. In the distance, we caught sight of a lone climber, perched atop the highest rock formation, no doubt taking in a stunning view below. He must have used ropes to get there.

I started up one rock face and noticed that my shoes did well on the sandy texture. The slope of the rock inclined enough that I was soon in crawling mode and getting a little high up for my level of confidence (and skill), so I crab- crawled back down to the more level areas of the rock, which were plentiful. I found my way into an egg-shaped cave, which I just barely fit into. Bill was busy scouting out the continuation of the trail and snapping lots of pictures.

Having collected a sufficient amount of scuffs on the new shoes, we decided to call it a day. The return hike was all downhill and the creek crossing less painful for Bill to witness.

For more information about Piedra Blanca and for a list of locations selling Adventure Passes, check out the Los Padres National Forest website at http://www.fs.fed.us/r5/lospadres/.

Published December 2005 in the Sierra Club's Condor Call.

Potrero John Trail

2010-10-27T14:20:00.000-07:00

A gentle giant with hands the size of catchers’ mitts; that was my first impression of Dr. Caballero. We met in Ojai and he drove us about 25 miles up the 33 from Ojai to the Potrero John trailhead. The drive nearly did me in and as I fended off car sickness, Dr. Caballero told me how he ended up being the resident expert on 139 day hikes in our area.

For the past 30 years, Dr. Caballero has been a Doctor of Chiropractic with a practice in Camarillo. A few years ago, his wife invited him to join her and her girlfriend on one of their usual neighborhood walks, and he hasn’t stopped walking since. His walks, however, took him off the pavement of the neighborhood and into the backcountry, crossing streams instead of sidewalks. His new hobby not only got him into shape, but with the help of a handheld GPS device and a simple pedometer, he recorded and documented every step to create a comprehensive book of 900 miles of day hikes. The main reason he hikes, though? “Beautiful scenery!” I heard him say this several times. This is a guy who truly loves the outdoors.

The hike he chose for us on this blistering hot summer day was the Potrero John trail in the Sespe Wilderness of the Los Padres National Forest. It’s hike number 28 in his self-published book, “Mileage Hiking Maps.” He said we would trek close to 4 miles with a few creek crossings and an elevation gain/loss of 470 feet. The hike would take us less than 2 hours and was rated as “easy,” which was right up my alley.

We parked at a small turnout across the street from where the Potrero John and Sespe Creeks meet. Ours was the only car parked at the turnout, but I could see a few others just up the road on the other side. I surmised that on a hot day like this, those folks were splashing in the creek and not about to trek a dusty trail for 2 hours.

Now, I’m no expert when it comes to hiking, which is why I thought it wise to join Dr. Caballero on this hike. Whereas Dr. Caballero recently hiked his 3000^th mile, I on the other hand, someone who has just recently re-discovered the outdoors, have only logged about 30 this year. So when he said to be prepared, I of course thought that meant packing Band-Aids for the blisters I would surely get and an allergy pill for the dust and pollen which would no doubt seep into my lungs. But for good measure I also brought a bottle of water and a camera as proof to my naysayer friends that I did venture into the wilds.

Dr. Caballero popped open the trunk of his car and began loading his day pack with bottled water, paper towels, snacks, an air-horn, a small first-aid kit, a cell phone and a camera. He also had a large knife clipped to his belt. Then he doused the both of us with bug spray before clipping his pedometer on and grabbing his walking stick. I was a bit uneasy now, wondering if we were going on a full marathon or something, so I asked again how far we were going. Sure enough, it was just under 4 miles. “Whether you’re going a mile or several, you have to be prepared.” He couldn’t stress this enough, and his book points to 16 simple yet invaluable ways to be prepared.

The hike started off easy enough and after an awkward attempt by yours truly at scrambling across the creek, we were off. The trail was narrow and the brush relatively dry, so we tackled it single file with Dr. Caballero in the lead. We came to another creek crossing and the Doc must have now known he was dealing with a greenhorn, so he gave me few pointers. “If you start to feel like you are losing your balance, just put your foot in the water! It’s better to have a wet shoe than a twisted ankle!” So with the grace of a ballerina on Quaaludes, I teetered my way over a couple of rocks and got half way across when my coordination inevitably failed me. My arms started flapping about wildly as I tried to regain my composure, then I remembered Doc’s advice and immediately stuck one foot in the water. It worked, I didn’t fall! So with one wet shoe I slogged on. Squish, step, squish, step. Knowing we had about 20 more crossings ahead of us on the hike, Doc handed his walking stick off to me to ensure I stayed dry.

The trail took us through a narrow canyon, with sheer rock faces and tiny caves towering above us. We were lucky to have so much shade along the creek on such a hot day. We soon came to a meadow and Doc explained the importance of always scanning the trail in front of you, not just looking at your feet. He emphasized this not only to take advantage of the scenic surroundings, but to be on guard for snakes. And with the hot weather we were having, it was certainly snake season.

We crossed the creek a few more times. I think I was getting the hang of it and the walking stick was a big help (this will be on my birthday wish-list). My shoe was even starting to dry out. I dunked my hat in the water to cool off – did I mention how hot it was? I’m pretty sure the temperature was threatening to go into the triple digits.

After passing a hillside blanketed with pines, we started to come around a corner and down a hill when Doc stopped suddenly and motioned for me to do the same. Sure enough, a snake had popped its head out of the brush on the side of the trail to get a good look at us, just out of striking distance. “It’s just a garter snake.” He seemed unfazed, but my heart had jumped out of my chest. The snake was still doing its cobra dance imitation, so I snapped a couple of photos, which I later learned didn’t turn out because I was so nervous. Doc took the stick back from me to get the snake out of our way so that we could venture on.

Just as I was beginning to think we would never get there, Doc pointed to the prize. I could hear it before I saw it. A fantastic waterfall plunging into a shallow pool was our turnaround spot. Adjacent to the fall was a small campsite with log benches canopied by a couple of heritage oaks. It was a cool shady spot where we could catch our breath and have a snack. Actually, I would be the one catching my breath; I think Doc could have gone several more miles. He took a large bottle out of his pack with a neon green liquid. He swears by 2 parts Lemon-Lime Gatorade mixed with 1 part Minute Maid Orange Juice as a mid-hike source of energy.

The return hike was much easier since it was all downhill and I had the savvy to navigate the creek. On the drive home, Doc told me about the hiking club he founded which provides twice-monthly guided hikes to the trails featured in his book. Membership in the Hueneme Hiking Club and the hikes are free. When he dropped me at our meeting point, he invited me to join him and his hiking club members on future hikes. I accepted and promised I would bring my own hiking stick!

To order his book, “Mileage Hiking Maps” (also available on CD), or to join the hiking club, contact Dr. Caballero at 805-684-1504 or cdocrose@aol.com. Or check-out his website at www.geocities.com/oxnardhiker.

As published in the Sierra Club's Condor Call October/November 2005.

UCSB Rock Wall

2010-10-27T14:13:00.001-07:00

When John Hankins invited me to join him for a rock climb, I didn’t know our adventure would be taking us to the campus of UCSB. A bluff-top university teeming with surfing book worms just wasn’t the first place I would have imagined for a climb. But as it turns out, UCSB has just opened a state of the art indoor climbing facility. Since I had only done a couple of beginner climbs on the real thing, I thought an indoor climb would give me an opportunity to improve my skills.

John brought along Eric Lohela, a philosophy senior at UCSB and rock climbing enthusiast. Eric was happy to show us the ropes, so to speak, and gave us a quick tour of the new MAC (Multi Activity Center). This new facility is the result of a recent expansion of the Recreation Center, and includes a huge fitness center, locker facilities and the climbing wall. Students have free access to the facility, but the community can access it by paying a day use fee of just $8.00.

When we arrived at the climbing facility, I was immediately impressed with the wall’s height. Looming overhead at 30 feet, I also couldn’t help but be a bit intimidated. Hector was on staff and took time to get us acquainted with two pages of “Rules and Risk Management.” I signed the waiver, agreeing that I would not engage in any horseplay or chew gum. More importantly, as a novice climber, I could be “on belay,” but I could not be a “belayer.” That is, I could climb with a rope clipped onto my harness, but I couldn’t be the one holding the rope below. Personally, I’m not even sure how I was allowed two feet off the ground.

Hector gave Eric and John a quick belay test, which they passed with flying colors. I was thankful for that, since each would belay me shortly. We looked for the easiest route and after a simple knot-tying lesson – I say simple because it only took me a half-dozen times to learn – I had the rope secured to my harness and started up the wall.

I quickly gravitated toward the grey holds because they were about as easy as climbing a ladder. When I got above the red line – at about the 10 foot mark – there were fewer grey holds. My pace slowed a bit, and I tried some of the other colors, each usually leading me to my now favorite grey hold. At about half-way up the wall, I was stumped.

“Try the blue one near your knee!” John urged. I looked down and assessed the blue one. It was about the size of a dime and with a shoe size of 9½, I let out a nervous laugh and shrugged it off. I opted instead for the red one. This was a mistake.

In rock climbing, I’ve come to discover that there are two ways to make a decision. The first one involves short term planning, as in, “That looks like an easy place to put my foot, so I think I’ll go for it.” The second way involves long term planning, as in, “Now that I’ve put my foot here, I realize there is nowhere to put my hand.” I, of course, employed short term planning with my decision to go with the red hold. With my hands now at waist level and my foot precariously perched on the red hold, I had no choice but to rest my cheek on the rock face. I should also mention I’ve decided at this point that I much prefer real rock to this somewhat slippery substitute. With my face keeping me from falling to my death (John reminds me that I’m clipped to a rope), I decided to back track a bit. Following John’s advice, I used the dime-sized blue hold and in doing so, was able to grasp the coveted grey hold (in rock climber lingo they call this a “bomber” hold). Feeling pretty good about myself, I continue on, then I slip.

I think this was a pivotal event for me. Having done this climbing thing only a couple of times, I had never experienced what it was like to slip. My knees crashed to the wall and my hands tightened. Leveraging myself against the tension of the rope, I pulled myself up and got my feet into place. I made a couple more moves, but could see that the degree of difficulty was increasing. Still a bit shaken, at just over 20 feet up, I let John know I was ready to come down. When I landed, I was surprised at how much my fingers tingled. I guess I was really holding on tightly.

John and Eric each made a couple runs up the wall, showing how an accomplished climber does it. I was intrigued by their movements. So fluid and graceful and with a deliberate rhythm; it could have been choreographed. I’ve often heard rock climbing compared to dance. They made it look so easy.

I relayed my experience to an avid rock climber in Ojai. Ian Potter of Trails by Potter leads climbing excursions for all levels. He urged me to use the climbing wall as a means to improve strength and agility, but not to substitute it for the real thing. “Climbing walls can give a false sense of security.” This seemed to echo what the staffers at UCSB are teaching. Their adventure programs offer a few hours of in-class instruction, but they are always followed with a full day conquering the real thing in the outdoors.

The rock wall is a great way to improve your physical abilities and get to know the gear. After you have spent some time learning basic moves and conditioning the muscles that are most often used for this sport, get out there! There are so many opportunities locally to experience rock climbing out in the open air, with the sun overhead and a cool breeze pressing you on. I’ll see you at the top!

Published August 2005 in the Sierra Club's Condor Call.

The Greenhorn Trailblazer

2010-10-27T14:08:00.000-07:00

The Ventura River-Rancho El Nido Preserve boasts miles of well-maintained trails weaving through its 1,590 acres of protected open space in the Ojai Valley.

I recently took a four-mile trek on one of the preserve’s trails reserved for guided hikes only. I’m a bit of a novice to this hiking business, having only treaded lightly on the valley’s more popular trails including the Pratt Trail and

Shelf Road

. Since those jaunts yielded a fit of hay fever and gigantic heel blisters instead of the spiritual oneness with the land I had heard so much about, I sought to better prepare myself for this one. I had new hiking shoes, which normally is a sure-fire way to get a blister, but I wore them to work the week before to break them in (not exactly high-fashion office attire, by the way). I also took a Claritin before venturing out into the pollen-ridden wilds. So with my fanny-pack chock full of band aids, water and a camera, I met up with Rich Handley at the Riverview Trailhead just off

Rice Road

Rich is the Preserve Manager for the Ojai Valley Land Conservancy (OVLC), the nonprofit which owns and manages the property. Through a grant with the Coastal Conservancy and generous member donations, the OVLC acquired this land in June of 2003. Rich and others affiliated with the OVLC have started conducting a series of free guided hikes on the property, providing access to areas you normally can’t get to without an OVLC guide. Hikes focusing on plant and bird life are also offered on a regular basis, and self-guided enthusiasts atop four legs or two wheels will also find excellent trails. Dogs are welcome, too, as long as they are on a leash…with an owner at the other end.

On this particular hike, we had only one other participant, so we were afforded a personalized experience at our own pace. Rich drove us over to the start of the Oso Ridge Trail, which begins on an easement bordering the private residential neighborhood of Rancho Matilija and abuts the Los Padres National Forest. As we began our ascent, I quickly discovered what is meant by, “moderate to strenuous elevation gain,” as was described on the website. Fortunately, I had gotten back to the gym after the holidays and the lung capacity was holding strong, for the moment.

The trail was cut wide enough for the three of us to comfortably walk side-by-side over firm soil and sandstone (sturdy hiking shoes are recommended). Many of the trails had already been cut as firebreaks years ago, and the OVLC employs a local organization, C.R.E.W. - an environmentally oriented nonprofit that provides paid opportunities to disadvantaged teens - to keep the chaparral at bay.

Shortly after we began our uphill trek, a coyote darted out in front of us, his winter coat still full and thick, trotting along the trail while keeping us in his sights before ducking back into the chaparral. Throughout the hike, Rich pointed out further evidence of wildlife; we saw tracks left by deer and fox, as well as piles of feathers strewn about for several yards – apparently one of these critters had their breakfast already! I held my breath and asked about mountain lion sightings and Rich told us that although there were sightings last year near the river bottom when the trail first opened, none were exhibiting threatening signs. Nonetheless, this is one of many reasons hikers should bring a partner.

We came to a crest and Rich gestured to an abundance of black and purple sage, as well as a lupine that just came into bloom. He told us that next month, the preserve will be blanketed with a beautiful display of wildflowers (hello Claritin), but we could already see colorful blossoms dotting the landscape.

We finally arrived at the highpoint, 1,320 feet, and all of the huffing and puffing was suddenly worth it. Surrounded by spectacular vistas on all sides, our reward for “strenuous elevation gain” presented itself in stunning fashion. We took in sights of the Ventura River with rarely seen water flowing through it from the recent storms, verdant meadows and the Topa Topa Mountains. We then looped into the Chaparral Crest Trail and began our steady descent.

As we neared the end of our journey, Rich snuck us off the path and into the direction of the sound of running water. The preserve has six year-round springs and we found our way over to one of them. Rich deftly maneuvered the bank of river rocks, then turned to watch me crab-crawl my way down with less than stealth agility. I stood up and found myself in a hidden sanctuary with a small waterfall trickling down into a 4 foot pool of clear, cool, pure spring water with a canopy of lush plant life encircling us overhead. On a hot summer day, this would indeed be a welcomed oasis.

Two hours after we began our brief expedition, Rich dropped me back at my car (sans blisters I’m proud to say) and showed me a map of the preserve’s trail systems. It seems that our four-miler barely put a dent into all of the miles of charted trails meandering through the property and available for public use. Suddenly I had quite a to-do list in mind, which will keep me trekking for several more months to come.

For more information on the OVLC or to find out about their guided hikes, check-out their website at www.ovlc.org for dates, times and reservation information.

As published in the Sierra Club's Condor Call, April, 2005.

Keeler Migraine Center

2010-10-27T13:49:00.000-07:00

Thanks to the Keeler Migraine Center, migraines no longer have to be such a headache.

Tony Demaria knows firsthand the debilitating pain that can occur if he goes to see his favorite rock band live in concert. Sitting in his doctor’s office at the Keeler Migraine Center in Ojai, he shakes his head and laments,” I shouldn’t have gone.” But surprisingly, his doctor emphatically disagrees, “What, and miss the Stones?” Instead, Dr. Robert Cowan, the center’s Medical Director, reminds Tony how to pre-treat himself so that he doesn’t have to consider passing up the next concert.

Nine years ago, Tony began having severe migraine headaches about once a month. Gradually they occurred more often, with increasing severity. His doctor at the time started prescribing Maxalt, which provided the relief he needed from pain so acute he couldn’t fathom getting out of bed unless he needed to vomit – a common symptom of migraine sufferers. The Maxalt, however, only provided temporary relief and sometimes caused rebound migraines. Thus he found himself in a vicious cycle, and the drug was making him “dumb and punchy.”

“I was hurting,” recalls the 61-year-old Ojaian, who was having incapacitating migraines several times per week.

Desperate to find help, Tony found the Keeler Migraine Center about a year ago. The center was founded as the clinical arm to the Huntington Medical Research Institutes by Dr. Cowan, Senior Clinical Research Scientist, and his associate, Dr. Michael Harrington, Scientific Director of Molecular Neurology. Actively involved in the research behind the study of headaches, the two brought the integration of their work in the lab to the care of migraine sufferers at the clinic two years ago.

The center targets patients who are acute migraine sufferers. “The more they hurt, the more we can help,” promises Dr. Cowan, who has himself suffered migraines since childhood. Although there is no cure for migraines, the clinic has a proven track record of treatment plans that bring about a reduction in frequency, severity and duration.

When Tony, one of 28 million migrainers nationwide, started coming to the Keeler Center, he first went through a comprehensive process that educated him about migraines. He began with journaling, a cathartic process that also helped identify his “triggers.”

As a self-employed business owner working 60-80 hours per week and commuting to Los Angeles, stress was steadily becoming a factor in his recurring migraines. In addition to stress, heat, light, sound and even vigorous exercise negatively affected him. Dr. Cowan urged Tony to reduce his work week and develop a steady routine with regards to sleep, diet and exercise since interruptions to established routines are known triggers.

“Regular had never been in my vocabulary.” But on the doctor’s advice, Tony is now maintaining a 40-hour work week, exercising with less intensity and taking advantage of the clinic’s weekly meditation and support groups, which are among the many complementary therapies offered.

Reflecting on his progress, he has seen tremendous improvement. “And my wife has noticed the difference!” he laughs and says of the woman he married 42 years ago. Now for Tony, a good week means either having no migraine or just a mild headache, which for him is a world of difference.

Migraine Statistics:

Migraines are considered a chronic disease.

National cost of migraines: $14 billion per year, mostly in lost productivity.

$2 billion per year is spent on medicines and doctor’s visits.

The World Health Organization states that migraines can be more disabling than paraplegia.

There are 28 million migraine sufferers in the

United States

Migraines are 3 times more common in women than men.

1/3 of menopausal women tend to lose their migraines.

This article was written for Caring Magazine, a publication of Community Memorial Health Systems.

Operation Picasso

2010-10-27T13:47:00.000-07:00

Ojai Valley Artists on Display at Ojai Valley Community Hospital

A collection of over two hundred original works of art featuring local artists of the Ojai Valley are now on exhibit for public viewing. These pieces are not being shown in a gallery, however; they are right here at your local hospital for the enjoyment of patients, visitors and staff alike.

Operation Picasso, three years in the making, was initiated because of the current interest in the arts in healthcare. Barbara Hirsch of the Ojai Valley Community Hospital Foundation Guild Board of Directors was asked to launch the project after successfully completing a similar endeavor at UCLA Medical Center. There it was found that the artwork enhanced the atmosphere, created a more tranquil positive environment and was even shown to relieve stress.

“It’s a partnership between the hospital and the community,” said Hirsch, who co-chairs the project alongside Neva Williams Bradigan.

All pieces were either contributed by the artist or purchased by a hospital patron who then donated to the project. These methods of piecing the collection together created opportunities for artists to either donate or be compensated for their work and then have their artwork prominently displayed. It was also an opportunity for patrons to give to the hospital.

Once the pieces were collected, Dr. Raymond Sims secured all the framing costs from the Burns Family Foundation for the project. The pieces were then custom framed and hung throughout the lobbies, hallways, rooms and treatment areas of the Ojai Valley Community Hospital, the Continuing Care Center and the Keeler Migraine Center. Each piece is accompanied by an individual label detailing the artist, medium, title and the name of the donor.

Among the many local artists on exhibit are: Shahastra, Gayel Childress, Leila Kleiman, Jeff Sojka and Richard Amend. Local photographers are also featured in the collection, including Fred Rothenberg. Although the works are not available for purchase, documentation books are available at each location which provide information about the artists and how they can be reached.

“We have had a very positive response from staff, patients and visitors,” said Hirsch, who recently had a friend stay in the hospital. “She told me, ‘One of the best things about my stay was having the artwork to see.’”

The next time you are at the hospital, take a moment to take in the original works of art adorning the walls. For more information, contact the Foundation office at 640-2317.

This article was written for Caring Magazine, a publication of Community Memorial Health Systems.

Physicians of the Caribbean

2010-10-27T13:45:00.000-07:00

Volunteers are Pure Gold in Honduras

Two doctors sit in a medical office across from Community Memorial Hospital poring through snapshots of a recent visit to a clinic in

Honduras

. Each photo elicits a smile. Some bring laughter.

“Remember that day?” asks Dr. David Perlmutter, a semi-retired family practitioner. As he points to a photo of a long line of villagers, Dr. Fran Larsen, a family practitioner, recalls, “I think we saw 60 people that day.”

On a typical day, Dr. Larsen and Dr. Perlmutter are providing care to their Ventura patients, but much of their free time is dedicated to helping the efforts of a free clinic in a remote island village in

Honduras

The Glendafae Woods Humanitarian Clinic on Roatan Island,

Honduras

opened in the fall of 2002. The brainchild of a registered nurse born and raised there, the clinic brings healthcare services to a small economically depressed island town off the Honduran coast, just miles from a wealthy West End tourist locale. With a population of 30,000 people, Coxen Hole and the surrounding areas are home to half of Roatan Island’s total population. Glendafae watched as her community, made up of approximately 50% Hispanic and 50% black, succumbed to the ravages of hypertension and diabetes. Determined to open a free clinic, Glendafae leveraged credit cards and personal savings to build a clinic and a small 5-bedroom facility to house visiting doctors on her family’s land.

Without treatment, there is a high mortality rate among those with hypertension and diabetes. “With treatment, you can improve lives,” remarks Dr. Larsen, who first visited the island with a plastic surgeon five years ago. He found the island beautiful and decided to stay on for a brief vacation. Since then, he has returned to Roatan with a team of doctors, a translator and a dentist once or twice a year for a week or two at a time to volunteer at the clinic.

While there, they work side-by-side with the clinic’s Honduran doctor and Glendafae herself, who serves as the clinic’s nurse. Since there is no bus service to the more remote parts of the island, the doctors will take the clinic on the road and set-up for a day in someone’s house, where as many as 60 people will be waiting to see them.

The clinic also serves as a pharmacy, with a full supply of donated medications administered free to patients who agree to adhere to routine monitoring. Dr. Larsen, in cooperation with Community Memorial Hospital, purchases medications here and then gets them to the clinic. Organizations such as Direct Relief International and pharmaceutical companies such as Schering Plough, also provide assistance.

To ensure the clinic continues to actively operate on a full-time basis year-round, other volunteer teams visit the clinic. Coordinating the teams isn’t easy, but according to Dr. Perlmutter, who has given much of his last 30 years to third world medicine, “Word of mouth gets around pretty rapidly,” and keeps the doctors coming year after year.

“It’s so rewarding,” says Dr. Larsen.

This article was written for Caring Magazine, a publication of Community Memorial Health Systems.

Dr. Emily Benson, Renaissance Woman

2010-10-27T13:36:00.000-07:00

Renaissance Woman

Athlete. Artist. Surgeon. Dr. Emily Benson has achieved more in 34 years than most people ever dream of—and she’s just beginning.

By Lisa Snider

Dr. Emily Benson arrives late to our interview; she had to perform an emergency surgery to repair a crushed ankle.

Though she has just come from the OR, Benson looks like she stepped out of a Noxzema commercial—and her fresh complexion mirrors her demeanor and outlook in every way.

As the Director of Orthopedic Trauma Surgery for Ventura County Medical Center for the past year and a half, Benson is a glass half-full kind of gal, with a take-it-as-it-comes attitude. “I go to work and I never know what my day is going to be like,” says a smiling Benson, who appears to like it that way.

She’s something of a Renaissance woman, whose background and pastimes read like the chronicles of a super-achiever. In the mid-‘90s, she toted her guitar and a pocketful of original folk songs around New England for two years. During her last year as an undergraduate pursuing a degree in biology at Brown University, she made a push to take up music professionally. “I tried to make it as a musician for a year and it got really hard…There’s not a lot of money unless you make it big.”

She soon tired of “playing ‘Brown Eyed Girl’ for frat boys,” and decided to give herself a one-year deadline to get a recording contract. After living at poverty level for a year, she gave up and did what any struggling musician would do: she enrolled at Boston University Medical School. “I figured medicine was the next logical step…something that sounded fun to me that wasn’t like a desk job.” And what musician hasn’t thought of hanging up their guitar for a stethoscope? Benson explains matter-of-factly, “There’s a lot of scientific overlap between music and medicine.”

These days, the 34-year-old’s song choices are a little different, and she still enjoys strumming from time to time.

“Mostly when I pick up the guitar it’s my classical guitar.” And she doesn’t perform a surgery without firing up the CD player. “I like something that has a beat to it, it keeps everyone moving…Today I had a classic rock day: Rolling Stones, Eagles, Fleetwood Mac.”

Before the music, Benson played semi-professional soccer for the Rhode Island Stingrays. As a center mid-fielder in the days before Mia Hamm and the U.S. women’s national soccer team won at the Olympics, she played for nothing to small crowds. Since then, the team has become more organized and turned pro. Benson still plays soccer, but nowadays her teammates are residents at the hospital.

When it comes to hobbies, Benson leans toward the extreme. As an avid snowboarder, surfer, SCUBA diver, kayaker, motorcyclist, and recreational triathlete, she cops to having a propensity for adrenaline sports, which seems to go hand-in-hand with her work. As she puts it, “I like the patients who like the same things I like!”

After enduring harsh New England winters, Benson needed a change. Fortunately, a fellowship in Southern California had her name on it, and when the job at Ventura County Medical Center became available, she found her home in Ojai. “It may be the only area in California where I am totally comfortable,” she says.

Benson takes full advantage of the coastal and mountain surroundings, and can be found hiking and mountain biking her favorite trails in Matilija Canyon with her two rat terriers, kayaking at Lake Casitas, or catching waves at Surfers’ Point. “I’m a serious beginner,” she says of her newfound love of surfing.

Dr. Benson's recreational pursuits, however, never shift her focus away from her true calling. “Orthopedics right now is my passion,” she says. “This is the time in my career that is most exciting for me.”

She has a genuine, nearly infectious, adoration for what she does and who she does it for: “Ventura County Hospital provides fantastic medical care…and my clinic staff is phenomenal. They’re really interested in helping people.” According to Benson, you should be so lucky to end up at County, which is in the process of becoming an official trauma center. Not only is the medical care superb, the staff’s bedside manner is unparalleled. “The doctors are very altruistic,” she explains. “When you work for a doctor with that philosophy, it’s easy for the staff to jump on board.”

Benson retells the story a patient who came to the area on business from the Netherlands and got into a terrible car accident, which left him alone at the hospital, his entire family and support system thousands of miles away. “A lot of us were on the phone with his insurance, his personal doctor, and the people who were going to be taking care of him back home,” she tells me. This kind of personal attention is rare in many modern hospitals—but it’s de rigueur here. In fact, it’s part of the hospital’s culture:

“The philosophy is that everyone deserves a high level of care, regardless of insurance status. And that is extremely rare…The level of compassion I see here is remarkable for a publicly funded hospital.”

As if she hasn’t achieved enough already (she is, after all, only 34), Dr. Benson is conversant in Spanish and “works on it everyday.” She’s also a medical illustrator whose remarkable artistic talent has resulted in her work being published in a sports medicine journal.

It appears that many chapters remain in the chronicles of this Renaissance woman. Thankfully, she does not juggle or joust. Otherwise I might feel like a slacker.

Click here to see the story with photos as published in Ventana Monthly, March 2008.

Yoga Woes

2010-10-27T13:22:00.000-07:00

Yoga. Yō’-guh. The mere enunciation conjures up all sorts of images of trying to breathe

from my third eye while attempting to tie myself up like a pretzel. I am not coordinated or

flexible and at 5’10” I imagine I look about as graceful as a giraffe. That combined with my

penchant for eye-rolling cynicism has kept me away from the local yoga studio. But in my

unyielding quest to experience quintessential Ojai, I signed up for my very first yoga class.

My friend Josephine, a yoga aficionado, gave me some good advice. The first one being not to wear shoes. No shoes? But they might see my, gasp, rough heels. And don’t eat before class because some of the moves could make you nauseous, or worse. Other than that, she just encouraged me to have an open mind. Vowing not to giggle or fall over, I resolved to go the next day. I supposed if I messed anything up, I could always stand in place, put my hands together, close my eyes and feign contemplation.

So off I went, sans footwear, to yoga class. When I arrived, I was met by the instructor, Amy, to whom I confessed, “It’s my first time,” as if to say yes, it’s true, I’m a yoga virgin. She was very kind and told me I had picked the ideal class because today we would be doing Restorative Yoga, described as “conscious relaxation,” and since I have never been conscious or relaxed, I figured this would be right up my alley.

I was given a mat, a couple of blankets and a bolster, and from my vantage point, these were all of the trimmings for the perfect nap. She cued up some ethereal eastern chanting music and lit an incense, walking it all through the room as if to ward off evil cynics. I immediately thought of my allergies and tried my best not to inhale, which I knew would soon be a problem. Unfortunately, I was then instructed to breathe deeply and to focus on my breath. I complied and found the aroma very subtle and since it did not kill me, the first potential crisis was averted.

Next we were asked to sit comfortably and since everyone was doing the obligatory cross-legged sitting thing, I conformed to the majority. Apparently, I did not look comfortable teetering on my behind, so Amy came over and reconfigured me. She then asked us to close our eyes and said that we would start with a few short meds. Meds? Did she just say meds? I opened one eye, half expecting to see a tray of pills coming around, then realized that she meant “meditations.” We were asked to do that deep-breathing thing again and focus on our breath. I was focusing a bit too much and knew if I continued in this manner, I would soon hyperventilate and pass out. Amy asked us to put our hands together over our hearts, but not like you’d do with the pledge of allegiance, which is the glaring mistake I made. Then, bam, there it was, she asked us to “ohm.” So the nasal droning started, and the weak guttural sounds I emitted became reason number 312 as to why I will never be the next American Idol.

And then the posing commenced. In yoga, when you are awkwardly contorted in a peculiar way, it is called a pose. The first pose had us sitting on our haunches with our chests resting over a bolster and our arms overhead on the floor like we were praying to Mecca. We held the pose for so long my feet began to fall asleep. So while we were being asked to focus on the intent of our practice for this session, all I could think about was the fact that I no longer had any feeling in my ankles.

Next we were directed to scoot our tooshes up against the wall and flip our legs overhead at a 90 degree angle. This was very relaxing, if not weird, but as the blood started to find its way out of my feet, I was soon pining for my socks. Plus I was beginning to realize that drinking all of that Gatorade was a big mistake. When Amy came by to gently place a buckwheat pillow over my eyes and apply soothing pressure onto my shoulders, I forgot about my cold feet and full bladder. She asked us to focus our thoughts only on this one moment and be in the present time, which was easy for me to do because at that moment I was fixated on the hangnail on my index finger.

The last pose had us lying on our backs over the bolster with our legs splayed out in a butterfly formation over rolled up blankets. This was particularly comfortable and yielded a good thigh stretch. Amy guided us on another meditation, “Notice your thoughts, like clouds moving across the sky.” Clouds. Hmm, I wonder if it’s going to rain. Crap, did I close my car window? Is it an all-new Desperate Housewives tonight? I need to put my clothes in the dryer when I get home. Did I pay the phone bill? Surely these are not the thoughts Amy had intended. I needed to focus more, or did I need to just let go? I began to fidget. Amy again came by and quietly replaced my eye pillow and draped a blanket over me. “Don’t worry about seeing your thoughts through to completion.” I began to have flitting images, like you have just before you drift off into a deep sleep. A red pony, a floating chess board, a giant hummingbird. And for just that moment, my cynicism seemed to melt away; I was transformed. No phones ringing, no television, no chores, no bills. It was relaxation in its purest form and completely self-indulgent.

We were brought back to the conscious world and moved into our cross-legged postures once again. The woman in the corner didn’t move – I think she was asleep. Another “ohm,” the ringing of a chime and our successful journey to restoration came to an end. I was sold and knew I’d be back again soon.

For fifteen bucks, you too can escape the stresses of everyday life in just an hour and a half on a late Sunday afternoon – the perfect way to wind up the weekend and prepare for the workweek. Lulu Bandha's Yoga Studio is located next door to Azu. There is a complete schedule of yoga classes to suit any level and drop-ins are welcome. Visit www.lulubandhas.com for more information.

As published in the Ventura County Reporter, circulation 35,000, March, 2005.

Hiking Ojai's Trails

2010-10-27T13:16:00.000-07:00

It wasn’t all that long ago that the very idea of a hike conjured up fits of hay fever and blisters. But after a dose of Claritin and a careful application of Band-Aids, I got out there and have been trekking the trails of Ventura County’s backyard ever since. The Ojai Valley is surrounded by the Los Padres National Forest, boasting miles of easily accessible trailheads. So fold-up that treadmill (who wants to watch those flashing lights anyway?), head up the 33 and out into nature to get the blood pumping!

Ojai Pub-Grub Crawl

2010-10-27T11:03:00.001-07:00

Finding OjaiTM: The eating and drinking of Ojai reveals tasty, thirsty underbelly

I love Ojai in the summertime. Long hot days give way to cool evenings with gentle breezes. Summer concerts under shady oaks in Libbey Bowl. Tank tops, flip flops and tri-tip sandwiches from a roadside grill. The Fourth of July parade. And a perfectly chilled martini served alfresco from one of my favorite spots in downtown Ojai.

It’s time for a summer’s eve stroll down

Ojai Avenue

with my gal pal Lynn. We will make our way on foot from one end of town to the other on a Finding Ojai mission in search of the best nosh and libations until we have our fill of a complete four course dinner; a pub/grub crawl twist on a progressive dinner, if you will.

To prepare for our progressive dine-around, Lynn and I dressed the part, ditching the stilettos in favor of comfortable walking shoes, brought our appetites and engaged our sense of spontaneity and adventure.

FIRST COURSE: APPETIZERS

We started at the far end of downtown, past the arcade, where Laurel Moore, chef and owner of Azu has created the ultimate Spanish tapas menu, complemented by a well-rounded list of Spanish and California wines, and a full bar featuring specialty martinis. The front door was open, allowing a gentle breeze to blow into the bar, where we found our seats and ordered the Fromage D'Affinois: a luscious slab of cheese, baked then drizzled with honey, sprinkled with spiced walnuts and served with crusty sourdough. To accompany our appetizer, we each ordered a martini. I had a Hendrick’s gin martini, a tad on the dirty side. Lynn ordered a pretty, pink Cosmopolitan Skyy vodka martini that was “not too sweet, light and refreshing." Both were chilled to perfection; just what we needed to quench our thirst at the end of a hot summer day.

Azu, 457 E. Ojai Avenue, 640-7987, www.azuojai.com, open for dinner nightly 5:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m., lunch Monday through Saturday 11:00 a.m. – 3:00 p.m. and brunch on Sunday 11:00 a.m. – 2:00 p.m.

Alfresco dining: at cozy sidewalk tables.

SECOND COURSE: SALAD

We walked a block to the arcade where Brett and Suzy Johlfs’ intimate wine bar, Movino, serves small bites, cheese plates and salads. Lynn had her sights set on the baked mushrooms stuffed with goat cheese and I decided on the spinach salad with feta, cherry tomatoes and vinaigrette, which, according to Brett, is an old family recipe, and it is absolutely delicious. What’s great about Movino is the wine list, which features several “flights” served as 3 samples of 2-ounce pours. We shared the “Only in Ojai” flight featuring Old Creek Ranch Sauvignon Blanc, Casa Barranca Pinot Noir (my favorite) and Ojai Vineyard Syrah.

Movino, 308 E Ojai Avenue, 646-1555, open weekdays 5:00 p.m. – midnight, Saturday 3:00 p.m. – 1:00 a.m. and Sunday 1:00 p.m. – 7:00 p.m., live entertainment every Friday and Saturday night, and acoustic guitar every other Thursday evening.

Alfresco dining: on the rear patio overlooking the arcade fountain.

THIRD COURSE: ENTRÉE

As the pink moment descended on the valley, we made our way down past the arcade and over to Pangea, a local favorite. Joe, the owner/bartender, is always good for a story or two. I once heard a regular patron say, “It’s the only place I know of where the bartender cries in your beer!” It’s also the only place I know of in the valley where you can get Guinness or a hard cider on tap.

Lynn and I bellied up to the bar and chatted up a local, who also happens to be a famous Hollywood actor. I think he got a kick out of the fact that Lynn had no clue who he was. Chef Caleb was in the kitchen offering up a special of hempseed crusted tiger shrimp with jasmine rice, spinach and tomato. Joe saw our puzzled faces and rattled off the many health benefits of certified organic hempseed, which is chock full of protein, essential fatty acids and Omega 3’s. “It’s sooo Ojai,” I said, and ordered a plate for Lynn and I to split while Joe downed a shot and regaled us with a story about the defenestration of a patron on a particularly raucous night awhile back. The shrimp was tasty and the toasted seeds added an unexpected nutty crunch. And the banter with Joe and the locals was equally pleasing.

Pangea, 189 E Ojai Avenue, 640-8001, open for dinner Tuesday through Sunday 5:00 p.m. – 9:00 p.m. (open later for cocktails), and a live band plays every Saturday night.

Alfresco dining: scattered and bench seating on the back covered patio.

FOURTH COURSE: DESSERT

It was getting late, and I knew we had better head over to our last stop before they rolled up the sidewalk at Feast Bistro. Chef Susan Coulter’s new American cuisine has been a favorite for a year and a half now in the heart of the arcade. And her partner, Beryl Schwartz, has become known for her fresh baked cookies. We sat at a banquette and devoured a plate of ginger spice, lemon and chocolate chip cookies over lattes and quiet conversation while Susan and her Sous Chef, Mario, cooled down the burners for the night.

Feast Bistro,

254 East Ojai Avenue

, 640-9260, open Tuesday through Friday for lunch and dinner, and Sunday for brunch.

Alfresco dining: on the covered patio behind the arcade.

Four courses, four restaurants and three blocks later, I’m happy to report that the progressive dining concept has been perfected in downtown Ojai. It’s a great way to spend a mid-summer night and soak up the local flavor that is uniquely Ojai.

Published in the Summer 2007 issue of the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

The Ojai Tennis Tournament

2010-10-27T11:02:00.000-07:00

The 107th Annual Ojai Valley Tennis Tournament, or “The Ojai®” to the more savvy, is the most anticipated event of the season; springtime in Ojai just wouldn’t be the same without it. The smell of sweat and sunscreen commingled with grilled tri-tip and orange blossoms create an air of unmistakable Ojai. Presented April 26-29 by the non-profit Ojai Valley Tennis Club, it’s Ojai’s oldest event and one that carries with it an esteemed reputation rich in history and tradition.

“We have 1500 competitors, we use over 100 courts, we have 500 people working all the various phases of the tournament, but we own no tennis courts and have no paid employees,” said Sam Eaton, public relations chair for The Ojai®.

Home of the annual Pac-10 men's, women's, and doubles individual championship matches, The Ojai® brings tourists and tennis fans to our small town for 4 days of intense competition. Libbey Park, in the heart of Ojai, is the venue for the finals of all divisions, including Div. III West Regionals, Community and Independent Colleges, Junior and CIF events, and the Open.

After 107 years, I couldn’t help but ask if anything new is in the works, any plans to mix it up a bit this year? “Nothing new, just the same wonderful stuff that has kept us going for 107 years. Perhaps that's the beauty of the whole thing,” said Eaton.

I’ll be the first to admit that I don’t know much about the game. I tried, though, having spent two summers during my pre-teen years at tennis camp. I forgot my racquet one year; my mom had to turn around and drive 50 miles back home to get it for me. I never excelled beyond beginner level, nor did I figure out the scoring (love?). I did, however, become quite adept at flinging the racquet out of my hand, tagging my tennis instructor once or twice. Childhood traumas aside, I wouldn’t miss a courtside seat at The Ojai®.

I think as far as collegiate sports go, The Ojai® is to tennis what March Madness is to basketball. The brackets, displayed on several boards at Libbey Park, are dizzying and require careful study, but I can always turn to local legend, Stacy Margolin Potter, who sorts it all out for me. She played on the Professional Women’s Tennis Tour from 1977-1987 and reached a World Ranking of #18. She hails from USC, where she won both the National Collegiate Singles and Team Titles. Her association with The Ojai continues today and you can always find her courtside cheering on her alma mater.

One of the biggest attractions of The Ojai® is the tea tent, where every afternoon tea and cookies are offered complimentary. It’s all very sophisticated and one year I made the shocking faux pas of ordering a Venti Decaf Chai Latte, quickly discovering that the menu here is simple and dignified with a choice of black tea with a lemon wheel or cubed sugar.

Last year’s Tea Tent Vice Chair Peggy Chase, who, in a lovely wide brimmed garden chapeau, shared the magic and mystique of the tea tent with me. There are 1500 real china cups and saucers with The Ojai® logo and perfectly polished silver tea pots. She later wrote me and shared, “As a young girl, I was enchanted by the two glistening silver tea services and the ‘dressed up ladies’ who so elegantly poured the tea and passed cookies to players and spectators. The players, some just off the courts, would stand a bit straighter, speak a bit more softly, and might even crook a little finger as they sipped from china cups.”

Last year at The Ojai®, I landed the big get. Not even the most seasoned sports reporter could get close to this one. I had a sit-down with one of the unsung heroes of tennis: the ball boy. You know him, he’s the one crouched down under the net, waiting patiently to retrieve loose balls and holding sweaty towels for the players. After a match that went to all 3 sets, I got a face-to face with local Sean O’Brien, and he looked tired. He chased down errant balls and got tagged by 100-mile-an-hour serves. Between sets, he juggled tennis balls. And got an admonishment from the judge. Why?

“I bounced the ball,” he confessed. I guess it’s hard to maintain focus after hours in the hot sun.

And then I asked the question of the hour; how does one get chosen to serve with the ball boy elite? “I got assigned,” replied the eye-rolling teen. It seems that his holding court on the local Thacher tennis team brings an automatic appointment to the task. I’m told we might see him again this year, so make sure you give him a shout out!

For more information about The Ojai®, call (805) 646-7241 or visit www.ojaitourney.org. See you on the courts!

Published Spring 2007 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

Ojai Madrigali

2010-10-27T11:01:00.000-07:00

Finding the Holiday Spirit with Voices from Christmas Past

I remember my first holiday season in Ojai, thinking that because the nearest mall is more than 25 miles away, I’d need to do all of my Christmas shopping “in town” or on the internet. On a lark, and mostly because I had an unfinished shopping list and time was not on my side, I ventured into Ojai’s village center. I was struck by all of the festive decorations, the sophisticated shops, the slight chill in the air, the dusting of snow on the Topa Topa’s and the sound of Christmas filling the air.

I strolled down the arcade to find where the sound was coming from. There were no instruments, just lovely voices singing ancient verses that reminded me of Dickens. I don’t know why, because who knows what sort of soundtrack would accompany Dickens, but if it did, it would sound like this. Warm and lilting and charming and lovely. And from another time. It felt nostalgic.

I found my way to a breezeway off the arcade where a small crowd had gathered into a circle. In the center was a group of carolers in full renaissance regalia, trumpeting a cappella. The breezeway offered the perfect acoustics for their harmony. The costumes were fancy; ladies in full-length velvet and cinched corsets and gentlemen in knickers and fancy feathered hats. They were animated and jolly and having as much fun as their enchanted audience.

Soon we were on the move, making our way down the arcade, stopping every now and then. Along the way I picked up a set of painted coasters at Kindred Spirit, a soft scarf with matching gloves at Rains and scented monogrammed soaps at Kava Gifts. With my Christmas gift list almost complete, the last stop took us to Rainbow Bridge for a hot cup of soup and more carols; a perfect end to a relaxing and entertaining afternoon of Christmas shopping free from the hectic pace and frantic crowds of the mall.

The Madrigali Renaissance Voices have been entertaining Ojaians and visitors alike since 1989. Jaye Hersh came to Ojai from Lubbock Texas and founded the group when she became involved with the Ojai Shakespeare Festival her first summer here. Originally meant to entertain the audience during festival intermissions, the group quickly gained in popularity and was soon getting gigs left and right. And then people started calling them to sing holiday carols.

“We only sing music written before 1650,” says Hersh, who was a music major in college. Through her work with the Shakespeare Festival, she recalls, “

I ended up over the years becoming a de facto specialist in Shakespeare music.”

Much of Madrigali’s music is based on song texts from Shakespeare’s plays. “We have no idea what it actually sounded like,” says Hersh, explaining that all notated music of that era was written exclusively for the church. Secular music that was created for pure entertainment typically deviated from the church’s music and was therefore considered sacrilegious. Because it wasn’t notated, this music was essentially lost during the Baroque period and buried for about 300 years until choir directors in the twenties and thirties brought it back, then in the sixties it developed a following.

Hersh wanted to bring the music to life, so she sat with a colleague at a piano to come up with melodies to accompany Shakespeare’s song texts. Now they have over 100 songs in their repertoire, all sung in the madrigal style – a term for polyphonic vocal music.

“Madrigal music is incredibly satisfying to the singers,” because, Hersh explains, the music was created in the “spirit of discovery and play, without expectation or requirement.”

After 17 years, Madrigali is 13 members strong and all are local residents living throughout Ventura county. They have traveled as far as Barcelona,

Spain

and Sienna,

Italy

to perform as a group. In the beginning, their costumes were mostly borrowed and haphazardly put together. Hersh remembers thinking, “We need to get a look going on!” Now most of their costumes are handmade with strict adherence to complying with the renaissance period.

During the holiday season, Madrigali typically performs on a for-hire basis for private audiences, but often they will end up in the arcade after a show to entertain passers-by. This year they are performing at the Ojai Valley Inn on Christmas Eve for guests and restaurant patrons.

For more information or to hire Madrigali, contact Jaye Hersh at 640-MUSE.

Published Winter 2006 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

OJAI FILM FESTIVAL: FINDING LUMIARIES IN OJAI

2010-10-27T11:00:00.001-07:00

I will always say the best time to visit Ojai is during the autumnal equinox. Whenever anyone quips that Californians don’t have seasons, I simply retort, “Sounds like you haven’t been to Ojai in October.” The liquid amber trees’ verdant leaves seem to turn to earth, rust and gold right before your eyes while an early morning light casts an umber glow across the valley that signals fall’s arrival. Shadows lengthen and crisp sunny days yield bright blue skies that frame the Topa Topas in such a way that you’re sure you can reach out and grab Chief Peak’s nose. And clear starry nights beckon you to a bench under a blanket in Libbey Bowl beneath 200-year-old oak trees to gaze up into a movie screen on the opening night of the Ojai Film Festival. It’s nothing short of magical.

The 7^th Annual Ojai Film Festival runs October 12-15 and will screen more than 50 independent films in three venues over four days. The festival presents a unique opportunity for locals and visitors alike to take in films ranging from student and first-time filmmaker screenings to films from Oscar-nominated veterans in a wide range of genres. It’s also a chance for the community to mix with filmmakers at one of the many planned special events.

It all starts on Thursday with an opening night community barbecue at the Art Center Theater followed by a free screening at Libbey Bowl of The Cave of the Yellow Dog, a narrative documentary – with real people based on real events. Oscar-nominated director Byambasuren Davaa’s’s follow-up to the hugely successful The Story of the Weeping Camel “tells the story of the age-old bond between man and dog, a bond which experiences a new twist through the eternal cycle of reincarnation in

Mongolia

.”

“Sounds like Ojai, doesn’t it?” remarks the festival’s Artistic Director and Board President, Steve Grumette, referring to the more spiritual qualities our little town is known for.

It was on a trip to

Moab

, Utah in 1998 to serve as a juror at the Canyonlands Film Festival that it first occurred to Steve to start a festival in Ojai. “I thought to myself, if a small town in the middle of nowhere could do so well, it seemed to me Ojai could do it.”

Now in its 7^th year, the non-profit festival has steadily gained in reputation as a place where emerging filmmakers can meet new audiences who know they have arrived at a small town festival with big time impact. In fact, in recent years, more than a few have gone on to win Oscars, including local Bobby Houston’s documentary short Mighty Times: The Children’s March. “Few festivals can claim such a high percentage of success,” Steve notes.

And just what is it about this annual festival that makes it particularly relevant to Ojai? “Ojai is well-known as a center for culture and the arts, and film embodies all of the arts,” Steve explains. “It’s an event that celebrates the only true new art form of the last hundred years.”

Following the Thursday special screening is a weekend jam-packed with films, seminars and special events. One event in particular has the attention of the nation’s top film students. The Panavision Into the Limelight Project was started last year and brings the nation’s top 10 graduating film students to network with industry professionals and showcase their work before a festival audience. The young filmmakers will arrive by limo and have their thesis short films screened on Friday evening. One student will be awarded with a Panavision $60,000 camera rental package.

On Saturday, the Lifetime Achievement Award will be presented to Laszlo Kovacs, foremost cinematographer of critically acclaimed films such as Easy Rider, Paper Moon, Shampoo and Miss Congeniality. At 75, he is still working and going strong. Laszlo will also present two seminars using 20-minute segments of his films to explain why you see what appears on the screen, providing keen insight into the filmmaking process.

Sunday, the festival continues its outreach to youth with Teen Filmmakers in Action, coordinated by Ojai’s own John Zatkowsky a Nordhoff High School senior. “It’s of, for and by youth,” explains the festival’s Executive Director, Maggie Wellman Cerminaro.

The festival’s theme is “enriching the human spirit through film,” and having waded through some 400 submissions, the cream of the crop will certainly be evident with films like The Trials of Daryl Hunt, the story of a man wrongfully convicted of rape and murder, and King Leopold’s Ghost, which details King Leopold II's colonial brutalities in

Congo

. An animation festival will showcase the festival’s lighter side. And there will be a local connection with a screening from one of AFI’s most recent graduates, Charlie McDowell. His film, Bye Bye Benjamin, a comedy short about a ten-year-old business executive, stars Ojai residents Ted Danson and Charlie’s father, Malcolm McDowell. And Danson’s wife, Mary Steenburgen, serves as one of the film’s executive producers. “It’s our own offspring coming back to us!” Maggie beams.

So come rub elbows with luminaries in Ojai. For more information, visit www.ojaifilmfestival.com to get the full schedule, view film clips and to purchase tickets.

Published Fall 2006 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

The 9^th Annual Oxnard Independent Film Festival will take place September 14-17 & 22-24 at Plaza Cinemas 14 Downtown Oxnard. Locals Michael Anderson and Austen Collins of Extra Mile Productions and Lisa Snider of Finding Ojai will premier The Price of Paradise, a documentary about the challenges faced by Santa Barbara’s critical workforce as they grapple with not being able to afford to live in the community they serve. Snider produced, wrote and directed the film, and Anderson and Collins provided the cinematography and editing. The 42-minute documentary will be screened Saturday, September 16 at 2:00 p.m. For more information visit www.oxnardfilmfest.com.

Fruit Hawkers

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White canopies, beat-up six-foot tables, the twang of a blue-grassish foursome playing “Man of Constant Sorrow,” the soft scent of lavender wafting through the stalls and a bounty of fresh colorful fruits and vegetables greet me each Sunday morning at the Ojai Farmers Market. I will never forget my first visit to the market nearly 7 years ago. A moment that, I now realize, brought about an awakening, a transformation really with that first introduction to a philosophy of food blended with the social context of all that is Ojai.

My husband, Bill, and I had just relocated from San Diego. Like most inhabitants of suburbia, we shopped at chain grocery stores and consumed an indecent amount of “healthy” take-out in those days.

We drove to the market that late summer day years ago. Along the way, we caught our first glimpses of the local populace. A man jogging with a leashed llama in each hand. Another man with a long beard, dreadlocks and a sarong picking lavender on the side of the road. We later saw him in front of the market with the lavender buds in his hair and playing a ukulele. I’m sure we laughed and rolled our eyes then.

I remember arriving at the market’s parking lot, wondering what all the hustle and bustle was about and being confused by all the people just walking out in front of passing cars on Matilija Street. I’m sure I said something sarcastic like, “Jeeze, these people must really want their sprouts!” I quickly learned that pedestrians not only have the right of way, but in Ojai they are darn right indignant about taking it.

We eavesdropped as buyers and sellers spoke with a familiar and friendly tone while they conducted their business. A bearded man in a Che Guevara t-shirt asked a farmer something about getting the kids enrolled in kindergarten. A couple dollar bills were exchanged in return for two handfuls of oranges. I looked over the crates of fruit and found a box of what appeared to me at the time to be over-sized grapefruit, and that’s when I had my first introduction to a pummelo. The farmer offered me a sample - so fragrant, with a hint of sweetness. Bill asked if I planned to take it bowling!

Then I saw Bill with his eyes popping out of his head looking at the next booth over. A bald twenty-something young woman, seemingly due to give birth any moment, proudly displaying her bare protruding basketball of a belly, the button of which was jewel-adorned, was busy selling her crop of lettuces. And a bare-chested tattooed young man next to her with a bright orange and red knit cap played a 5’ tube-like instrument called a didgeridoo. I think I chided Bill by saying something like, “I like her belly button ring, I want one just like it!”

We proceeded with a bit of trepidation and quietly groped and fondled a variety of fresh produce while taking in the Ojai culture. It didn’t take long for us to realize that what ends up in the grocery bag is much more than just fruits and vegetables.

This was about the time when Bill was becoming increasingly interested in cooking. That day, he bought purple potatoes, rosemary, tomatoes, avocadoes and asparagus. That week, I dined like a queen, and have every week since. The market inspired and pots and pans that gathered only dust now proudly take a weekly beating.

Since then, we’ve made friends and acquaintances, and each Sunday we bump into them at the market and get caught up. When I see Patrick playing “You Are My Sunshine” with the Iron Mountain Boys, we exchange hellos. The soap lady knows my favorites: Goat Milk and Honey and Rosemary Mint. And we talk with the people who just picked our produce. How profound is that? We know the people who grow what we eat.

If a few weeks go by and I haven’t been to the market, I get sort of “bunchy,” a yearning really, to return. Not just for the food, but for the comfort of being one with my community. And for the thrill of assuming the right of way in front of a charging SUV on Matilija Street!

Photos by Brooks Smothers

Published Summer 2006 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

Acupuncture Angst

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“The needles are really small,” she said in a reassuring voice. I’m sure she’s heard it a million times when I whine back to her that it’s really not my wish to be a human pin cushion. But with an insatiable desire to touch that elusive quality that gives Ojai its mystique, I made my first appointment for acupuncture with a tried and true Ojai native and graduate of the Santa Barbara College of Oriental Medicine.

I’ve been having some pain in my left shoulder for awhile now from carrying a heavy purse and typing while talking on the phone with my head, neck and shoulder contorted around the handset. I switched to a small backpack, got a headset for my phone and went through some physical therapy, but the pain persisted. When acupuncture was suggested, I absolutely flinched. You see, I’m what you might call “needle-phobic.” I’d like to feel like I’m unique in this respect, but, really, isn’t pretty much everyone in this same boat? Actually, the clinical term would be Aichmophobia or Belonephobia. And a phobia, by definition, is “a persistent, abnormal, and irrational fear of a specific thing or situation that compels one to avoid it, despite the awareness and reassurance that it is not dangerous.” This just means we’re all freaks and we need to get over it.

Acupuncture is an ancient Chinese remedy dating back thousands of years. As a staunch believer in conventional Western medicine, and a devout skeptic, combined with my apparently unreasonable and freakish fear of sharp things, I knew this would be a stretch for me.

I arrived to the acupuncturist’s office and immediately noticed the room was approaching sauna-like conditions. After an intense in-take interview, she took my “pulses.” Yes, plural, pulses. This is a yin-yang thing which I don’t quite understand. I wondered if the pulse jumping out of my throat would tell her more about my needle anxiety!

I was then instructed to strip down to my bra and underwear. Gasp! Okay, first of all, how was it that this blind-sided me? Did I expect her to shove the needles through my t-shirt? But what did she want with the lower half? Besides, of all days, I picked today to wear a hot pink Victoria’s Secret thong! My bad for not planning ahead on this one. I then had to hop up on the table, which I’m sure I did with the grace of a ballerina, and turn face-down (butt-up). Nevermind my needle-phobia, I was suddenly having a mini modesty crisis. Thank goodness she had a towel for my exposed cheeks. And at that moment, I understood why the room was so warm.

Staring at the berber carpet below, I could hear things being unwrapped over the Asian-inspired ambient music that was no doubt supposed to be subduing me into a compliant half-sleep. However, my mind was focused on how certain I was that she was unwrapping needles the size of a number two pencil. She must have noticed how tense I was, because before she started jabbing me, she gave me a very soothing massage on my shoulder. She asked me to inhale deeply, then exhale deeply. Upon the exhale, I felt a whisper of a sting near my scapula. Huh, not so bad. This continued about 20 more times, with each exhale, a gentle tap, tap, accompanied by a minute little pinch. The needles were everywhere – my back, my legs, my feet, my hands, even my head.

She had me lay there for about 20 minutes and said that during this time I should practice some visualizations. So naturally, I began to visualize all sorts of catastrophes that could potentially occur as I lay there in such a vulnerable state. Why, there could be an earthquake, which could tilt the table upside down, with me on top of it, plunging the needles deep into my body! I started to feel dizzy. If I faint, she’d never know since I was already lying down. I finally calmed myself down and actually began to feel the therapeutic effects of the needles. The pressure was actually easing some of the pain, and the rest of my body felt as if the tension was subsiding.

I sensed that she was approaching me, then felt something brush against me near where the needles were inserted. Then she said we were all done. I asked if the needles had been taken out yet and she assured me that they had. I hadn’t felt a thing. I got up from the table and felt extremely relaxed. I wasn’t ready to conquer the world, though. No, I was ready for a power nap! I felt great. With my curiosity piqued, I asked to see the needles; they were about an inch long and as fine as hair! I laughed at myself for being so high maintenance, and then I made an appointment to return next week.

So, for about $50, you too can get stuck with needles. Call Kris Dutter at Ojai Alternative Healthcare at 218-9851 for an appointment.

As published in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide, October, 2005.

Ojai's Drum Circle

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FINDING THE BEAT...OF A DIFFERENT DRUMMER IN OJAI

It’s springtime in the park. Birds are singing, flowers are blooming, children are laughing, sage is burning and hippies are drumming.

I’m in Libbey Park on a Sunday afternoon and completely out of my element…and I’m swooning. I’m swooning because I have found myself smack dab in the middle of Ojai’s inner circle; that elusive place that we hear of in whispers, witness from the fringes and rarely get to experience ourselves. Yet it’s what makes this quirky little town so endearing.

I’m in the inner circle. A drum circle.

I walked by Libbey Park several months ago and heard a steady chorus of rhythmic thumping. A group of about a dozen people were gathered; men with a quiet intensity hammering away on drums of various sizes and young women with flowing skirts swaying to a beat that made their long locks of hair toss from side to side. I sat and watched for a moment from a far away bench, not sure if this was a place for outsiders.

I did this for several weeks before finally getting up the nerve to approach the circle. When I did, I was met with a warm curiosity. After all, I didn’t really look the part. Me: t-shirt, blue jeans, red sneakers; typical Gap-girl garb and a dab of Ralph Lauren fragrance. Them: dreadlocks, African print tunics, maybe even some hempware with a hint of patchouli oil.

I met Jay North first. He’s known by the locals as an organic gardening guru. I asked him why they come here. He explained it as a sort of spiritual social event, something to do to get ready for the work week ahead.

“We’re always so stuck inside ourselves. This is a way to turn your back on it all.”

I wanted to know who started it all. Jay pointed to a dreadlocked African-American man, giving a pretty good wallop to his drum. I think I asked if he was in charge or if he was the leader, a dumb rhetorical question that made me look even more naïve and would surely get me banished back to the bench.

“No, Sartuse is the inspirer.”

And with that, the man with one name came over and introduced himself. Sartuse had a pleasant way about him; a warmth and genuineness that I was immediately drawn to. He told me he came to Ojai in the early eighties and has taught drumming to local youths for years.

“He even recorded with Jose Feliciano,” revealed another member of the drum circle, Toby Lampson. Toby, a local magazine publisher, told of Sartuse’s status as a professional master African drummer turned Ojai icon. A CD that the two recorded recently featuring Sartuse’s solos is currently for sale at Java Joe’s.

I asked Sartuse if I could sit-in. He escorted me to a drum and sat next to me while he demonstrated a simple tap-tap and I mustered up some courage to join him.

“The drum has a voice.”

I wondered what mine would say.

I looked around. About a half dozen drummers surrounded me and were pulsing out individual beats that came together in harmonious agreement. An older couple wandered over from the arcade to watch. Children splashed about in the fountain. The vibrations were welling up inside me. Time to take a stab at it I suppose.

With Sartuse’s coaching, I placed my hand next to his and mimicked the “tap-tap.” After a couple of minutes, he could see I was ready to mix it up a little. With my left hand, I added a “smack.” This went on for several minutes. “Tap-tap, SMACK, tap-tap SMACK.” Sartuse started pounding out a very complex arrangement and I tried to follow. Then someone asked me a question and I lost the rhythm. “Tap-BONK, SMACK!” My hollow thud shattered the circle’s beautiful cacophony with one errant stroke. Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

I talked a little longer with the three local legends I had the privilege of getting to know. I was still inquisitive, wanting to know who comes here on Sundays.

Toby summed it up well, “People just show up. Most people probably question themselves, should they watch or should they play? That guy who was just here next to me, I have no idea who he was.”

I noticed there was little opportunity for conversation, which is clearly why most of them come here. “Words often times divide,” Toby advised.

Nodding in agreement, I found my way back to that bench on the outside of the circle and quietly observed from a respectful distance, knowing I had just experienced quintessential Ojai.

*****

If you’re visiting from out-of-town, ask for a late check-out, grab a Chai Latte from Ojai Coffee Roasters and head on over to Libbey Park on a Sunday afternoon…and let the rhythm take hold!

Published Spring 2006 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

Ojai's Roadside Barbecues

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GETTING TO THE MEAT OF THE MATTER IN OJAI

I’ve been curious about the many roadside barbecues smoldering in front of liquor stores and markets throughout the valley for sometime now. But I’ve never actually pulled over to see what they’re all about. I figured this was another mission for Finding Ojai, so I rounded up a few members of the Ojai posse, and we set off on an unlikely roadtrip for the typical Ojaian; a quest for meat.

Ojai's Top Ten Summer Adventures

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1) Take a hike! Bring sunscreen, water, a camera, a buddy and a sense of adventure. There are two trails at the north end of Signal from the center of town: Pratt Trail and Shelf Road. Shelf Road is well-traveled and offers unparalleled views of the valley. Pratt is a bit narrower and a tad more ambitious with a few opportunities to splash in the creekbed. At El Roblar and Rice, you will find a series of trails in the Ventura River Preserve. For free guided hikes in the preserve, visit the Ojai Valley Land Conservancy’s website at www.ovlc.com. And if you are as sure-footed as I am, you’ll be needing a sturdy pair of hiking shoes, too!

2) Music under the stars! Outdoor concerts in this small town are a romantic call to yesteryear and Libbey Bowl is the place to be. Bring your bug repellent, a blanket and a seat cushion. It all starts with the 59^th Annual Music Festival, June 9-12 (go to www.ojaifestival.org). This is followed with Wednesday evening concerts all summer long (call 646-8126 for more info). You’re swooning, aren’t you?

3) Festival Mania! There are so many to choose from! In addition to the aforementioned Music Festival, there’s also the Wine Festival on June 12 (see www.ojaiwinefestival.com), the Lavender Festival on June 4 (see www.lavenderfestival.net), the Art Ojai Summer Stroll June 24-25 (call 646-1525), the Playwrights Conference August 11-21 (www.ojaiplaywrightsconf.org) and the Shakespeare Festival July 15-August 6 (www.ojaishakespeare.org).

4) Fourth of July in Ojai! This little town has it all: a concert at Libbey Bowl the night before, a parade through town, a community picnic, and fireworks at the high school. It’s an idyllic piece of Americana for sure. Most people plan their summer vacations around Ojai’s Independence Day festivities; it’s not to be missed.

5) Boccali’s! A summer right of passage for any Ojaian calls for an early evening jaunt to the other side of town for Boccali’s Tomato Salad. Tomatoes are in season for a short time and are freshly picked from their ranch, making this dish an almost mandatory accompaniment to your summer meal. And don’t forget the fresh-squeezed lemonade and the famous strawberry shortcake! And you can “leave home without it,” because this is a cash only business. Call 646-6116 for reservations.

6) Farmer’s Market! There’s nothing like the Ojai Farmer’s Market in summer. It’s alive with eager shoppers and produce hawkers. Berries are bursting with flavor and sweet lavender perfumes the air. And there may even be a fiddler or a complete bluegrass ensemble to entertain you. It takes place every Sunday morning behind the arcade.

7) Bike the Trail! Take a spin from Ojai to Ventura on the bike path in late afternoon when the hottest part of the day has passed. It’s all downhill, making for a leisurely ride. If you’re as in-shape as me, you’ll want to arrange for a pick-up at the bottom of the hill! No bike? No problem, call Bicycles of Ojai at 646-7736.

8) Pink Moment! The time 10 minutes before sunset yields a sacred daily ritual in Ojai. The setting sun imparts a warm rosy glow to the Topa Topa Mountains, while all life screeches to a halt to take in the magical moment. You can see it from anywhere, but the best place to see it? Ask for the corner patio table at L’Auberge, where French Country cuisine is served up with genuine Ojai hospitality. Call 646-2288 for reservations.

9) Go climb a rock! Yes, you read that right, there’s rock climbing in Ojai, even for novices. Foothill Crag off the Pratt Trail is where you’ll make your ascent. But if you’re as agile as I am, you’ll be needing a guide. Contact Ian Potter at www.hikingojai.com.

10) People watch! Ojai has no shortage of interesting characters and the perfect place to see the inhabitants of this quirky town is Ojai Coffee Roasters. Make your way down the arcade and cross the street. Order a half-caff-no-whip-double-latte and have a seat at one of their sidewalk tables. Now watch and listen.

Published Summer 2005 in the Ojai Valley Visitors Guide.

Features

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Miscellaneous Features:
Tree Huggers (The Whitman Residence), Ventana Magazine, (Feb 2010)
Vino V, Ventana Magazine (Mar 2009)
Renaissance Woman, Ventana Magazine (Mar 2008)
"Fire Woman:" Local artist makes art out of flames, VC Reporter (Sept 2008)
"Behind Gray Eyes," VC Reporter (July 2008)
Inside Santa Barbara, (p. 12 cover story, p. 32 employers, p. 28 farm cuisine, July 2008)
"Home is Where the Art is," VC Reporter (January 2008)
"The Place to Get Zen," SierraStyle Magazines (November 2007)
"On the Chanterelle Trail," Ventana Magazine (October 2007)
Inside Santa Barbara Magazine, (p. 18 shopping & 72 green efforts, July 2007)
"Theater 150: Stand-up and Deliver," VC Reporter (July 2007)
"Preserving the Day," on wedding photography, VC Reporter (Feb 2007)

Shopping Articles

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Downtown Shopping Inside Santa Barbara Magazine, (p. 18, July 2007)

Down on Main Street VC Reporter (scroll all the way down - November 2007)

Get Wired VC Reporter (scroll half way down - December 2007)

Locally Made VC Reporter (January 2008)

Over the Top Fascinators: Best local hairdo thingie designer VC Reporter (9/09)

Great Gifts for Pets VC Reporter (December 2009)

Sierra Club Articles

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Click here to read the following articles written for the Condor Call, a local publication of the Sierra Club.

Greenhorn Trailblazer
UCSB Rock Wall
Portrero John
Piedra Blanca
Whale Watching
Ilvento Preserve
SAMO Youth
Urban Hike

Rock Climbing Article

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As published in the Ventura County Star, circulation 100,000, June, 2005:

Juan Carlo / Star staff Lisa Snider, 36, of Ojai topropes at Foothill Crag in Ojai with her climbing guide, Ian Potter, below. Snider, "infected with a burning desire to know Ojai's innermost secrets," as she put it, decided to go on a rock-climbing mission even though she had never done any rock climbing before.

Fast facts What: A 20- to 30-minute hike from downtown Ojai just off the Pratt Trail. Bio: Lisa Snider is 36, a six-year resident of Ojai and former hotel executive turned government employee. Her interests include writing, traveling to exotic locales with her husband of 14 years, swimming with her Labrador retriever and doing pretty much anything quintessentially Ojai. She has a bachelor of science degree from California Polytechnic University, Pomona. Quote: "Make sure you trim your fingernails before rock climbing!"

Cost: $65 per person through Ian Potter at Trails by Potter, 646-0382, http://www.hikingojai.com.

Juan Carlo / Star staff

Potter leads Snider to her first rappel down the Foothill Crag in Ojai. As it turned out, her "style" of descent was more like "inch, scoot, inch, scoot" than the traditional step-hop-jump-fly style used by veteran climbers.

Between a Rock and a Novice

A first-time climber tackles an 80-foot wall of rock and pure terror.

By Lisa Snider, Correspondent
June 20, 2005

"You want ME to climb THAT?" I moaned as I stared up the 80-foot vertical incline.

I thought I had been exceedingly honest with Ian -- to the point of near humiliation -- about my abysmal lack of skill and experience at a sport where the advice "don't fall" takes on new meaning when you're teetering this close to the edge of exhilaration and insanity.

I had never done this before but, having been infected with a burning desire to know Ojai's innermost secrets, I unwittingly set out on a rock-climbing expedition and ended up in this predicament.

I found Ian Potter purely by accident on the Internet. He guides a variety of adventures in Ojai, including trail hikes,

mountain biking and rock climbing. I dared myself to contact him, and the next thing I knew I was signed up for a climb at Foothill Crag.

Now, I'm all for adventure and intrigue, as long as it is seen on the TV from the safety and comfort of my cushy couch.

Sure, I go to the gym the obligatory three times a week, but this was just a tad out of my league. I mean, the biggest thing I've climbed is the tower of papers I had to conquer this tax season.

OK, I'll admit I rushed out and bought Aron Ralston's book following his TV special with Tom Brokaw on "Dateline." You remember Ralston; he's the lone climber who got trapped under a rock and had to cut off his own arm to avoid dying there. You'd think that would have served as a significant deterrent to my self-imposed challenge, but I'm apparently not that astute. Besides, I had no designs on having that grand a tale to tell, no siree; I charged my cell phone before I put it in my fanny pack and hydrated with a few swigs of Gatorade (right after cutting my finger trying to open the bottle).

I met Ian, his wife, Stacy, and their dogs Max and Luey at the Starr Market parking lot. I gave Ian a once-over to make sure he wasn't the kind of guide who would get us into a limb-losing situation. He explained that women are typically better rock climbers than men, particularly tall women. Though he had keenly observed my Amazon-like stature, he would soon find out he had missed the mark on any perceived athleticism. This occurs to me as I still feel the sting on my finger from the earlier Gatorade incident.

Goodbye, solid ground

From the parking lot, we ventured up Foothill to the Pratt Trail, and soon I had a 30-pound pack on my back. It felt like 100. Stacy and Luey bid us farewell and we set out on our hike to Foothill Crag with Max, outfitted with his own rope and carabiner, in tow.

I was quickly presented with my first obstacle. A usually dry creekbed was now swollen with a shallow tide of water delivered by the recent rains.

I made an embarrassing attempt at rock hopping and several near misses as Max looked on impatiently and Ian steadied me with a helping hand. Ian said it would be a short hike, but I'm pretty sure it was longer.

We arrived at the bottom of Foothill Crag and that's when reality hit me. I was face to face with a cold gray monolith of sandstone looming overhead.

This rock was so tall it had created its own microclimate; it was at least 10 degrees cooler at the rock's shady base.

Ian took us around the "easy" way to the top of the cliff. While he set the gear, I caught my breath from the treacherous hike and peered out over the edge to take in the spectacular view of the valley below. And then I looked down!

What's the first rule in rock climbing? Don't look down. What's the second rule in rock climbing? Don't look down. Everyone knows that. Well, I blew that one out of the water. Max was curled up under a tree several hundred feet below (Ian corrects me to say it's only 80 feet) and our backpacks looked like coin purses.

Ian took a stab at taking my mind off the dizzying height and showed me several different knots, none of which I can remember, although I recall one knot involved a rabbit going down the hole. Maybe it was a Clover Hitch, or was it a Bowline? Good thing this is not "Survivor: Ojai," or I would definitely be voted off.

Teetering over the abyss

"Rope below," Ian bellowed out to no one in particular. Max was unfazed and continued napping. I think this meant I was in for a rappel.

Sure enough, Ian had clipped the rope to my harness and I was soon teetering over the abyss.

The technique he showed me absolutely defied all logic and reason. Step backward with a rope around your waist and rest your heels on the edge while your butt juts out over the unknown. Now just lean back. Right!

Ian obviously sensed my unease and, to ensure I didn't look down again, he demanded, "Look at my eyes!" And it worked.

I just focused and leaned back until gravity took over. Surely my pace was painstaking, but Ian was patient. I inched and scooted, inched and scooted.

There were some interesting little caves I had not seen from below. One looked like the perfect den for a critter to hide and lunge out at me, which fortunately didn't happen. Ian said I could stop and explore if I wanted, but I had my eye on the prize: terra firma.

Inch, scoot, inch, scoot. I already had a routine I was comfortable with. Another inch, another scoot and I landed. I unhooked and hollered up, "I'm safe," which is rock climber lingo for, "I did not splatter myself all over the rock."

Ian followed, looking like a Special Forces commando. His technique was more of a step-hop-jump-fly style. I guess inch-scoot was too amateurish for him.

So now that I was familiar with the rock, it was time for a climb. Ian had rigged a toprope; he was harnessed to one end, the middle of the rope was rigged to a series of pulleylike thingies at the top (more rock climber lingo), and I was clipped in at the other end. He was standing right next to me which I thought was odd. I mean how was he going to pull me up from here?

The path is clear

Clearly I was going to have to, uh, climb up. The climb started much like a straight up and down wall. There was no place to grab hold or put my foot. I whimpered pathetically, but instead of saying, "Lisa, the tribe has spoken," and extinguishing my torch, he continued to encourage me.

He pointed to a 1 mm bump in the rock I could certainly grab onto, but I just wasn't seeing it. Then he demonstrated in Spiderman-like fashion. He chalked my hands up and said, "Go for it!"

I wanted to grab onto the rope and pull myself up, which he advised against, so naturally I did it anyway and went into a tumultuous spin.

After I bounced off the side of the rock (I'm still on solid ground at this point, mind you), I dusted myself off and tried again.

This time, Ian gave me a boost up, and I was climbing. I used the crag to get my holds, which worked out great until I got halfway up. There was a little tree growing out of the rock above me.

If I lunged at it, I could grab hold and continue on. What if I miss? I looked down. I know, I know, what's the first rule in rock climbing, yada, yada, yada. I'm not what you might call the "conquering type." I don't have a "need to triumph over adversity" or any of that sort of ambitious hoopla. I'm mostly interested in maintaining a death-free existence. So at 40 feet up, I began a midair mini-meltdown.

Ian kept up the cheerleading charade and rather than deliver stereotypical macho rhetoric, he kindly let me off the hook.

Maybe it was the fact that I was dropping expletives at this point, or that I was quivering like a bejeweled Chihuahua that had been separated from its Prada tote, but he said I didn't have to go all the way to the top if I didn't want to.

I talked myself into the fact that 40 feet was a noteworthy accomplishment. That's like a three- or four-story building, right?

I looked up and thought, "What's the worst that could happen? I can't fall." But soon I found myself creeping backward down the crag.

When I landed, Ian praised my effort and suggested we have a cup of tea up top.

We spent an hour or so waxing philosophical on everything from healthcare to family to politics. It turns out we both left well-paying corporate jobs -- he was an engineer, I was in hotel management -- to pursue more meaningful endeavors.

I then made a second rappel; this time I was a bit more confident.

Before dropping me back at the Starr Market parking lot, Ian predicted I'd be back to climb to the top.

I think he's right.

So, for about $65, you too can climb a rock. Ian is an expert outdoorsman with extensive wilderness first responder training. He guides all levels.

On the Net: http://www.hikingojai.com/.

-- Lisa Snider is a six-year resident of Ojai and freelance writer with an insatiable quest to uncover quintessential Ojai. You can read her other columns at http://www.findingojai.com/. If you have a suggestion for her, e-mail her at findingojai@aol.com.

Music Columns

2010-10-26T18:58:00.000-07:00

Scott Smith (Smitty West), Ojai Songwriters Anonymous

Tony Barnes, Peace Thru Music

Fred Schmitt

Dr. Jass

Myridian

INXS

Health Columns

2010-10-26T18:54:00.001-07:00

Click to read a feature story on Ventura County Medical Center's Dr. Emily Benson, written for Ventana Monthly.

Click below to read a sampling of articles written for Caring Magazine, a publication of Community Memorial Health Systems:

Physicians of the Caribbean
Operation Picasso
Fighting Migraines at Ojai's Keeler Center

Finding Ojai Columns

2010-10-26T18:51:00.000-07:00

Finding Ojai is Lisa's personal mission to uncover the mysticism behind this quirky small town's charms. Newcomers to Ojai will likely only hear whispers of its underground new age culture that embraces the unconventional. No longer content to be on the fringes, Lisa endeavors to seek its inner circle. She writes first-person accounts of quintessential Ojai adventures reflecting her own self-deprecating humorous style. Written much like a food critic might review a restaurant, but instead of a restaurant her assignment might be a yoga class as seen through the eyes of an unwitting ingenue, who lacks flexibility and coordination! Many may find the real Ojai elusive or even a bit intimidating; most Ojaians live here for years without truly experiencing what makes this eccentric little enclave so unique. Lisa's columns blend discovered insider savvy with the amusing perspective of a skeptical novice to make these experiences entertaining and more approachable for the reader.

Click to read columns:

Top 10 Summer Adventures
Roadside Barbecues
Drum Circle
Acupuncture
Fruit Hawkers
Film Festival
Madrigali
Tennis Tournament
Ojai Pub-Grub Crawl

Food and Wine Columns

2010-10-26T18:48:00.000-07:00

Feast Bistro Celebrates Four Years, Ojai Valley News, April 2010

Click to read Lisa's Food and Wine columns from Santa Barbara Wine and Dine magazine:
Carving a Spot on the Culinary Map: Restaurant Marcella's Chef Ron Stewart

Ventura County Wine Trail: Wining South of the Santa Barbara County Line

Remick Ridge Vineyards: a Smothers Brothers Production

Theo Stephan: Leading a Culinary Revolution in Los Olivos

Kosher & Classic: The Food Fashions of Chef Todd Aarons

Zaffiro: an Italian restaurant in Goleta

Elements Restaurant and Bar: Catering to the Stars

Rocco DiSpirito: The Science of Flavor,
and What You Don't Know About Celebrity Chefs

Epiphany Restaurant & Bar: Eclectic Cuisine & One Cool Vibe

China Pavilion: Shanghai Flavors in the Heart of Santa Barbara

Please email Lisa to read the following articles from 805 Living:
Click to read Lisa's Food and Wine columns from the VC Reporter:

Modest Luxury: Give the Gift of Affordable Local Wine

A whole new World (of) Flavor Café

Best Beer Stop: Ojai Beverage Company

Our (happy) hour of need
Tasting Room Brings a Regal Return

Progressive Dining in Downtown Ventura

Ventura County's Grape Escape

Best Green Wine — The Eco-Friendly Kind (9/09)

Best Roadside Butcher/Deli (9/09)

Osteria Monte Grappa: Authentic Italian Without the Jet Lag
(12/09)

Eat Like an Italian in the VC (4/10 Dining Guide)

Best Place to Eat a Whole Fish (9/10 Best Of)

Click to read Lisa's Ojai Visitors Guide "Pub-Grub Crawl" article.

"On the Chanterelle Trail," Ventana Magazine (October 2007)

Click to read Lisa's Dishing Ojai columns on the Ojai Post.

"Sipping the Central Coast's Green Wine," Edible Ojai (Spring 2008)

Farm to Table Cuisine - A Full Circle Feast from Inside Santa Barbara

"Vino V Winery," Ventana Magazine (March 2009)

"Ventura County's Savory Syrahs," for VC Reporter's 2009 Dining Guide

Wild Chanterelle - Queen of the Forest (9/09)
The Cave at Ventura Wine Company (9/09)
Ventura County Wine Trail (9/09)

Music in a Bottle: One Man's Journey from Rock to Wine

Wine As Art: digital artist Bob Dickey

Kosher Commitment: Herzog Wine Cellars

Tasting Wine Country’s Bounty: The Ballard Inn's Chef Budi Kazali

Millennium Dreams

2010-10-26T18:46:00.000-07:00

See the hilarious 10-minute play adapdation written for a showcase performance at Theater 150.

As published in the Santa Barbara Independent, circulation 40,000, December, 2004:

Ringing in a New Career
Two thousand zero zero party over oops out of time . . .

The band was doing the obligatory, albeit pathetic, rendition of Prince's '80s essential dance tune. The hotel sold out the "Package of the Millennium" and all of the guests were now clamoring to the dance floor, hideously gyrating to a beat that was clearly more useful to them in their younger days. Middle-aged men with their shirts unbuttoned to reveal decades-old piles of graying chest hair and women stuffed into dresses that fit them better in their 20s bumped and grinded into one another painfully. I sniffled and wiped my dripping nose with my sleeve.

"You got the lights, right?" Hiram shouted over the band leader's impromptu guitar solo, tearing it up miserably.

"Yeah, yeah, I got it, no problem," I hissed, my throat punishing me with every syllable.

Of all nights to be sick, this was definitely the worst. As the hotel's director of guest relations, my prestigious assignment for the night involved being stationed next to a Klieg light tower at the back of the ballroom, running on generator power. Hiram, my boss, the general manager and a Y2K compliant geek, insisted that the western power grid was scheduled to go "off-line" at 11 p.m. PST. When it didn't, Hiram looked deflated; he figured somehow that the time-warp continuum would catch up to us at midnight, so I'd better not leave my post. I surrendered myself to the inevitable and cozied up to my date, Mr. Klieg, and surveyed the crowd of idle rich trust-funders.

When the recruiter called me up six months earlier for "the job of a lifetime," I had no idea he actually meant "the job that will suck the life out of you." But the seduction of salary, title, signing bonus, and relocation assistance grabbed hold and didn't let go. I jumped at the chance, as I did with every other hotel job since college graduation. It was always 24/7/365, full of promises of excitement and glamour and at a pace that would stop an Olympic athlete dead in his tracks. But being starry-eyed and impressionable, it's the career path I consciously chose. Now, years later, staving off pangs of regret, with Prince's wannabe charlatan crooning in my ear, fogged by a cloud of confetti and too much cold medicine, I floated away into a daydream.

Tonight I'm gonna party like it's 1999 . . .

The music had an undeniable beat that took over my gawky limbs and for once made them move in perfect harmony. My head finally knew what my feet were doing and my arms were fluid, no longer flailing about wildly. At 5'9" and 120 pounds, awkward came naturally, but grace was elusive, if not impossible. I was 15 and mostly looking forward to having my hair permed and getting my braces off soon. Jan hopped and spun across from me and every time her head bobbed, her glasses smacked her on the nose, but that didn't seem to bother her a bit.

Cisco scooted over my way and said, "Hey, we're gonna ... and ... right, Lis?"

"What? I can't hear you!"

He took a deep breath and yelled, "We're gonna all get together and party in 1999, right?"

"Oh, yeah, definitely, we just have to, right Lis?" Jan screamed her allegiance while her hips swiveled and her arms hovered over her head.

Without a moment's hesitation, I nodded in agreement and said, "Yeah, cool, we all have to swear we're gonna get together, no matter what!" And we all high-fived.

Then there was a loud pop; the DJ had just backed into one of the balloons that spelled out "1983" over the stage.

1999, don'tcha wanna go, 1999, don'tcha wanna go ...

A balloon fell into the Klieg light and the heat made it explode over my head. I jumped and Hiram came over and sneered, "Are you okay, didn't you hear me on the radio?"

"Oh, no, sorry, I guess the band was too loud."

"You don't look so good."

No kidding, I'm at death's door. "Oh, yeah, I've got a cold."

"Look, I know you're sick, but I just can't let you go until after the countdown." And with that he immediately turned on his heels and sauntered toward the champagne fountain.

Just then one of the guests stumbled over to me with her boobs pouring out of her dress, waving a broken plastic tiara at me with one hand and sloshing champagne out of a glass with the other. "My tiara broke, I need a new one and I also never got a kazoo, how do you expect me to properly ring in the millennium?"

Oh, honey, don't get me started. "I'm so sorry. I'll get you a new one right away." One of her false eyelashes was making its way down her cheek and it was all I could do to keep from staring, so I grabbed the broken tiara and started off on my new assignment.

As I was walking away, she shouted, "And the kazoo, don't forget the kazoo!"

Across the room, a party of eight looked as though a hurricane hit their table. The centerpiece of Casablanca lilies was torn to shreds and everyone was wearing napkins on their heads and arguing about the meaning of "Auld Lang Syne." One of the men stood up and blew into his kazoo so hard it flew into his half-eaten plate of coq au vin. Seizing the opportunity, I snatched up his plate and said, "Sir, let me clear your plate for you." He didn't even notice me and was already singing, "Should old acquaintance be forgot and never get too drunk," while the others applauded and laughed at him. Since the ladies had donned their napkin chapeaus, I slyly scooped up one of their tiaras off the floor, where chunks of Dauphinaise potatoes and spears of asparagus lay after being catapulted off the table.

I handed the plate to one of the waiters and borrowed a corner of his apron to wipe the slobber off the kazoo as he rolled his eyes at me. I then proudly presented the goods to Liz Taylor's clone.

"It's about time, my gawd, it's nearly midnight already!" Her false eyelash was long gone and the other one was now stuck to her eyebrow.

"So sorry to have kept you waiting. I hope you enjoy your evening." And I hope you wake up with a raging hangover in the morning!

I went back to my post and thought about the path I had chosen. I worked hard in college and graduated with honors. And now, after investing more than 10 years in this business, I was again seriously considering leaving it all behind. Just last week I had been to see a career counselor, and after giving her $150 and enduring test after test, she concluded I was in the wrong business. You don't say? Even I knew I had more to offer than kowtowing to the more fortunate.

It was 10 minutes to midnight. A new millennium. A new chance. A pact with old friends. I glimpsed at my watch nervously. I looked at Hiram, visibly grinding his teeth with anticipation, as if he were in charge of detonating a nuclear warhead. It was then that I resolved to find something better.

I wondered where Cisco and Jan were now. I had just enough time to find out. Liz Taylor was waving at me and teetering her way over. It's now or never.

Behind me was a door. I quickly took the radio off my belt and clipped it to the light tower. I took a deep breath, slipped out the door ... and began my new life.

See the hilarious 10-minute play adapdation written for a showcase performance at Theater 150.

Political Flossing

2010-10-26T18:42:00.001-07:00

Guest Editorial as featured in the Ojai Valley News, circulation 5,000, November, 2004:

I have finally emerged from my self-imposed post-election mourning period. No more depression naps, drinking binges, Pepto Bismol guzzling or Ben and Jerry’s overdoses. I’ve stopped the helpless and repetitive cycle of sobbing and/or hyperventilating into paper bags (which, incidentally, is quite taxing when done simultaneously). Finally, my husband, Bill, had enough and snatched the paper bag from my hands and demanded that I step away from the Phish Food (a B&J’s classic) and for god’s sake, wipe the mascara blotches from under my eyes. Since my OTC sleep-aids had run out anyway, I begrudgingly decided to put the phone back on the hook, power-up the laptop again and wash my hair. Time to get back out there I guess.

This election grabbed hold of me and wouldn’t let go. I took all of the issues very seriously – maybe too seriously (this occurs to me as I examine the pink Pepto stains on the t-shirt I’ve worn but haven’t washed for a week). Could this be the dawning of my self-realization, a final right of passage into adulthood? I poked and prodded my absentee ballot with an extraordinarily confident precision, careful to ensure there were no hanging chads. I had fallen prey to an information overload obsession, reading everything I could get my hands on, surfing the internet so much I got static electricity standing my hair on end, watched the controversial political films, every debate and all of the Sunday morning pundit jam sessions. I knew I was in trouble when my friends started talking to me like they were debate facilitators; “I’m sorry Lisa, but I’m afraid your thirty seconds are up.” Despite being well-studied, I found myself vacillating over things like phone taxes and three strikes. Oh how I yearned for the good old days when I was blissfully ignorant and uninformed. The tough decisions plagued me; the difficulty of coming to terms with where I stood on some of the issues even drained me. It seems that just before the election I was faced with what I had felt were crucial decisions that weighed heavily on me, like whether the latest Dilbert was forward-worthy, or if my new jeans should be line- or tumble-dried, or which toothpaste to buy.

Toothpaste! My visit to the dentist the previous week had sent me into a dither about toothpaste, further evidence of my neurotic tendencies I suppose. My hygenist had given me subtle jabs about the "quality of my oral care." So next thing I know I was in the aisle at Rite-Aid with a print-out from the American Dental Association website, groping and scrutinizing tubes of Colgate and Crest. This one has flouride and fights plaque, but this one whitens and gives you fresh breath. Oh, wait a minute, no ADA stamp of approval, pass on the fresh breath. But do I want paste or gel? My head was spinning. Finally, the holy grail of toothpaste, enveloped in a golden light, with a choir singing above the rants of the 4-year-old in the candy aisle, presented itself to me. "This is the one!" I shouted, quickly grabbing my cell phone to placate the stares and pretend that I wasn't crazy, just rude. Fights cavities, freshens breath, whitens, has fluoride, fights plaque, fights gingivitis, dentist-approved!

Oh, if only all decisions yielded such satisfaction. With my sharp poker in-hand, I finalized my decisions with a fierce determination, and waited with bated (but fresh) breath for the outcome, hoping for the same drugstore jubilation. Despite the fact that the results nearly sent me over to the dark side, I am now on the road to recovery. As I chucked the yard sign that I had once displayed so proudly and prominently, now weathered and beaten like me, I vowed to continue to fight the good fight and keep making those tough decisions. I hope those of you who felt as strongly about this election as I did (and it seems there were quite a few of us), will find a way to come to terms with the outcome and strive to work together.

And I don’t know about you, but I’ll be keeping a bottle of Pepto within arms reach.

Lisa Snider

The Clench Cottage

The Clench Cottage

Vino V and Winemaker Michael Meagher

I thought it fitting to re-post this story from 2009 today since Vino V's winemaker Michael Meagher is officially opening his tasting room this weekend:

Vino V

VINO V WINES

OLD CREEK RANCH WINERY

OUTSTANDING IN THE FIELD

On the Chanterelle Trail

On the Chanterelle Trail

Tree Huggers: The Whitman Residence

Tree Huggers

Fitness Columns

An Urban Hike in Ventura

Santa Monica Mountains (SAMO) Youth Group

Wildflowers of Ojai's Ilvento Preserve

Whale Watching in the Channel Islands

Piedra Blanca

Potrero John Trail

UCSB Rock Wall

The Greenhorn Trailblazer

Keeler Migraine Center

Operation Picasso

Physicians of the Caribbean

Dr. Emily Benson, Renaissance Woman

Renaissance Woman

Yoga Woes

Hiking Ojai's Trails

Ojai Pub-Grub Crawl

The Ojai Tennis Tournament

Ojai Madrigali

OJAI FILM FESTIVAL: FINDING LUMIARIES IN OJAI

Fruit Hawkers

Acupuncture Angst

Ojai's Drum Circle

Ojai's Roadside Barbecues

Ojai's Top Ten Summer Adventures

Features

Shopping Articles

Down on Main Street VC Reporter (scroll all the way down - November 2007)

Sierra Club Articles

Rock Climbing Article

Music Columns

Health Columns

Finding Ojai Columns

Food and Wine Columns

Millennium Dreams

Political Flossing