The stunning stretch, down Highway 1 from San Francisco in Marin County, is a small hippie beach community that has a posh side to it. A friend and her family were renting a house for a few weeks and generously invited us to come, that day I happened to have 2 extra boys in tow. I thought it would be too much but she said “Bring it on”. Although stunning, the water at Stinson is cold and the last time I was there we had to run from the water because of a shark sighting. Often it is too foggy or blustery, but on this spectacular August day, the stars had aligned. We brought the signature bagels and schmears and descended on the fabulous house. It turned out another mom was there with her two kids, as well as some neighbor kids, so there were about 10 kids in all ranging from aged 5-13.  We tucked into a yummy spread and then let the kids loose on the beach. Some had wet suits but the water was just borderline, warm enough to be enticing, but definitely chilly. The waves were perfect, the beach practically empty. The boys (the crew was mostly boys) decided to have a battle of the holes; who could dig the deepest and best hole. I sat in an Adirondack chair and had an intense conversation with another mom who I had just met. The kids would periodically return to the compound for sustenance and a warm up in the Jacuzzi; it all felt very Kennedy-like, but with a California twist. At one point I looked at my friend, who had invited me and said we have to go boogie boarding. She and I had taken a trip to Costa Rica a few years ago, ostensibly for my 40th birthday, along with ten other moms, to do yoga and learn how to surf. She and I had been partnered up and dubbed ourselves the wonder twins and would bump knuckles if we had a good ride or to pump ourselves up. Surfing was great fun, a challenge met and something I’d love to do again, but truth be told I get the same exhilarating feeling from boogie boarding with much less hassle.  This day at Stinson was glorious… it took a while to adjust to the water, but once ensconced it was pure joy. It sounds cheesy, but I felt like I was 15 again; there is nothing like catching a wave at the right point and gliding all the way to shore. I think my boys were impressed. Chilled to the bone, I didn’t want it to end, but we needed to get back to the city, drive the windy Highway 1 before dark.  We said our thank-yous and good-byes and on our way out of town stopped for ice cream at Odyssey Video; pretty much the only ice cream shop in town. The boys all fell asleep; a good fatigue as we made our way back across the Golden Gate.

I have never been to Israel, but would love to go some day. The Israeli city of Tel Aviv would be my first stop. Tel Aviv sounds like such a vibrant city and since, so often there is bad news coming out of the Middle East, I thought it was a good time to bring up the 100th birthday of this bustling metropolis. This pulsing city of more than 1.5 million is the most liberal in Israel, full of artists, gay bars, high-tech companies and Bauhaus architecture. Tel Aviv is called the Barcelona of the Middle East, a hip city, with trendy restaurants and night life which, despite the ongoing political conflict that is never far away, has a lot to offer visitors. Upcoming anniversary events include:
* International Art Biennale (ARTLV) (9 September – 9 October), showcasing contemporary works in dozens of exhibitions.
* The Green Festival (17 October), dedicating of the Green Route along the Yarkon River and a centennial bike ride.
* Fashion Week in Tel Aviv Port (19-22 October).

I spent the 4th of July holiday weekend there, my first visit in 25 years, which told me a couple of things: just how quickly time can pass and a quarter of a lifetime can slip beneath your feet; and how short-sighted I’d been to allow so many years to drift away without making the simple four-hour-plus drive up from San Francisco. I swam in Tenaya Lake, fished the pools and streams that fed into it, got some strikes in the Tuolumne River as it wound through the meadows, and later, at Cathedral Lake, saw a trout with a head as big as my fist emerge from the depths to strike my lure repeatedly before losing interest, too smart to be caught by an occasional fisherman like me.

And I vowed to get up here again a lot sooner than 25 years from now.

So imagine my surprise when my daughter’s 6th Grade class planned a field trip to Tuolumne Meadows and Mono Lake for September. I signed up and barely two months after my summer visit was here again.

This time I joined the kids to explore Mono Lake and its strange tufa formations that grow when freshwater springs bubble up into the saline lake and create chemical reactions. We hiked to the top of Lembert Dome, the final 50 feet a steep and intimidating scramble up a smooth granite mound to views over the meadows and river and surrounding peaks. We cast flies in the river and swam in pools, later drove to Tioga Pass and hiked up the steep trail to Gaylor Lake where the fish were starving and hitting anything red (but we’d left our rods at camp!). We swam in the frigid lake that put an ache in our bones but banished the heat and left us refreshed and ready for more.

At night, with the crescent moon long gone over the horizon, we lay in the meadow to gaze at skies as brilliant and awe-inspiring as any witnessed by our ancestors over the millennia of human history, identifying such common constellations as the Big and Little Dipper, Scorpius, Hercules, Capricorn, and lesser known ones such as Delphinus and Equuleus, the little horse.

On our last day we strolled across the meadow through the golden grasses along the river to Soda Springs, where naturally carbonated mineral water bubbles up through the mud. Some of the kids were skeptical but most drank their fill after tentative sips, enjoying the fizzy iron-flavored water.

Campfires are permitted in the campsite fire rings, and there’s nothing better than conversation, reading aloud, singing, and keeping warm around the fire before slipping into sleeping bags and dreams. For me, this second trip to Tuolumne Meadows sealed my appreciation of the place. I’ll get up here again soon, next summer, or the summer thereafter, because this high country region of this wondrous national park is a treasure for us all, not to be underestimated, and not to be missed.