NASA's AMES Research Center: Fly Me To The Moon, 40 Years Later

Did you know ... the NASA now launches spacecraft as big as shoe boxes that look like toasters?

This particular nanosatellite is called PharmaSat and contains yeast. No, not to make space cakes. Its primary design is to study the efficiency of drugs in space, as in antifungal treatments for instance. Why? Well, if you're going to spend the next year or so headed towards Mars with other dudes who've got athlete's foot issues, you really want the toaster to nail the problem.

Obviously, there's more to PharmaSat than mushrooms in space but it shows a face of the Silicon Valley that few people are familiar with: the future of space exploration.

Missions Not Impossible

PharmaSat is one of several otherwordly projects that scientists work on at the AMES Research Center, a little city of its own with 5,000 people working on anything from music to the mechanics of roller-coasters applied to flight simulators. Built on 1,780 acres of land at the Moffett Federal Airfield, the AMES Research Center works on several high-profile missions that get the world's attention whenever they take off.

Take the current LCROSS lunar mission that looks for water underneath the surface of our moon. Or the KEPLER mission that searches for other worlds like Earth in galaxies around us. Or the SOFIA mission, a flying astronomical observatory in the stratosphere.

Does this read like a script for a sci-fi blockbuster? It should. What these guys are doing is out of this world - for real.

Behind the Scenes

I visited the AMES Research Center to interview Dr. Kim Ennico, an astrophysicist who develops instruments to make measurements of astronomical objects. She recently worked on the LCROSS mission and as I entered the building for the meeting, she showed us a graph with the most recent position of the LCROSS spacecraft orbiting around the moon, looking no less excited than a toddler with a new firetruck.

If you thought of scientists as loopy people in white robes, it's time to revisit the stereotype. Granted, these guys have a weakness for the color white when it comes to scientific wardrobe. Granted too, not everybody calls her recent pastry tryout X-PRP1 for eXperimental Plum Raspberry Pie-1. Martha may just call it a fruit pie a la spatiale (or a space pie!).

But someone like Dr. Ennico is above all seriously having fun and if it takes tons of math equations to get her enthusiasm, I'm game to try!

Why?

Dr. Ennico is a passionate individual with a very curious mind who makes you wonder why you didn't question the established order more when you were a kid. When growing up, she just wouldn't take "because it's the way it is" for an answer and retreated to books at the library to find satisfy her curiosity. Now, she gets to play with cool toys that go into space, a job she clearly loves.

"There's nothing wrong with being curious," she says, adding that the necessary corollary of frequent experimentation is accepting to learn from past mistakes. If you are never afraid to fail, obviously you will expose yourself more openly to new ideas and accept whatever results you get. I found this attitude very healthy. Children should be encouraged to learn and figure things out.

You'll learn more about what makes kids love science in my next article for SFkids.org. Actually if you want to involve them in live science before, this weekend just might be your luck.

Moonfest 2009

Got kids who enjoy robotics, rocket launches and weird science? Have neighbors who collect telescopes to watch the moon? Come celebrate the 40th anniversary of Apollo 11's 1969 lunar landing this Sunday July 19, 2009 at the AMES Center. The MoonFest is a free event that will include music, kids activities and yes, rocket launches (plus, robots thanks to the Carnegie Mellon University's Robotics Institute).

Yes, it's been 40 years since that giant leap for mankind. Time to sing Fly Me To The Moon and watch a commemoration in photos here on SFGate.

Across Tenaya Lake - Open Water Swimming at 8,150 feet

Surrounded by granite domes and lodgepole pine forests, Tenaya Lake is the crown jewel of Yosemite National Park's high country. Set at 8,150 feet (2.484 m), the silver blue lake is a beautiful sight to behold right after you pass Olmsted Point.

Since it is one of the few Sierra lakes not open to motor-boating and surprisingly attracts very few swimmers, my friend Christine and I decided to swim across it from East to West on July 4, 2009. We are currently training for Escape from the Rock, a swim race from Alcatraz Island to San Francisco's Aquatic Park and we thought a high Sierra lake would be great training ground.

The lake is roughly 1 mile long and when I asked a ranger if she had any advice for crossing the lake, she looked at me with googly eyes and asked if I had a wetsuit. Guess it doesn't happen too often.

The East side seems like a better starting point since the area is very shallow (see the photo for how shallow and clear the water is - bonus points for no rocks) and you can warm up with a few strokes before reaching a big boulder that's really the start of the swim. Plus, our goal was to reach the tall white tree in the middle of the western-side beach and we didn't want to venture too long over deep unknown waters.

Water temperature was hard to gage but high 40s to low 50s (roughly 10-12 degrees Celsius) seems fair based on averages and the fact that nights were in the low 40s.

As far as itineraries, we closely followed the northern edge of the lake, trying to keep parallel with the hiking trail just in case we needed an emergency landing. After all, we had no idea what we were getting ourselves into. I strapped around my waist a bright yellow belt with a waterproof disposable camera (to take photos) and flip flops, in case I needed to exit and follow the trail on foot. As my husband commented, "you'll be more buoyant like this!" Sure, buoyant was what I needed.

The first dive was refreshing as the lake's waters slithered down our spines until we warmed up enough to feel comfortable. Christine with a black swim cap on, I with a bright green Swim-Art swim cap, we didn't linger long in shallow waters as we planned on completing the swim in an hour or so.

At first, I was glad I could see through my big swimming goggles. For sure, I'd be able to avoid obstacles. However for some reason, I got nervous when visibility trickled down to less than a few meters. That's odd given that I have absolutely no qualms swimming at Treasure Island with Christine every other week with just enough visibility to see my hand. That was not something I expected to feel.

The other thing I did not expect - but I should have- was how sweet the water was. After weeks of swimming in Treasure Island's salty waters or my community pool's mix of chlorine and salt, that was actually nice. The water tasted sweet and I liked it.

As I scouted the bottom for unusual or oversize objects (for instance, boulders like this nice specimen or fallen logs - of which there are many), I did not see a single sign of aquatic life. Though Tenaya Lake is open for fishing, there's usually barely more than a boat or two with anglers enjoying the alpine landscape. When we were swimming across, Christine and I crossed the path of two kayakers but there was none of the fishing kind on our side.

My strategy was to try to swim above somewhat visible ground as much as I could as deeper bottoms spooked the hell out of me. Again, there's no reason for this but it just did so I preferred to stay in "safer" waters. As the lake's underwater topography varies a lot depending on where you are, sometimes that meant being a hundred yards from the shore and sometimes that meant being 20 yards from the shore.

Christine was ahead of me, regularly checking on my green cap to make sure we were on the same path. When we thought we reached mid-point, in front of Polly Dome (? I think, although climbing topos seem to indicate other possibilities), we actually stopped to chit chat and take photos. Yes, that's how relaxed we were. Floating in the middle of a dream lake is not such a bad thing, after all. We took the time to take in the landscape from a rare vantage point and turned around.

Our voices seemed incredibly loud, yet the lake wasn't quiet at all. There were a few gently rolling waves and the sound of the wind swooshing on the water. A few cars here and there, hardly noticeable. From where we were, we couldn't hear the birds. We felt so good reaching half point that we even took turns diving underwater to snap a few shots. Although it was hard focusing through the goggles with the tiny lens of the camera, we managed to get ourselves in the frame. As the water was really kind of chilly, we didn't stay very long under water though. To warm up, one solution - get back to swimming! So we did.

Crawl again, breathe every third stroke, and keep the rhythm. After that point, we really wanted to reach the end. My only problem with the second half of the swim was that we needed to leave the shores during a pretty long time to swim above deep and dark blue waters. Again, I felt nervous. Somehow, I'd grown accustomed to criss-crossing logs, broken bits of rock and rotting chairs (even the remains of a boat if I'm not mistaken) and I was not mentally ready for the unknown.

Ah well, ready or not, there was no turning back. There was only going forward and we both did. I followed Christine who plowed through the now-deep blue waters with a firm and non-equivocal stroke. As for me, I could see the white tree clearer now and tried not to think much of the lake's depth. I knew we were getting closer at every stroke even if it seemed like an eternity.

We veered to the left (45 degrees left, roughly) and aimed for a single boulder surfacing above the lake. As we were getting near it, I nearly had a panic attack after Christine warned me about something but I couldn't hear what she was saying. An arm's length away from me, a vertical tree trunk's top was reaching just the surface of the lake but not quite so that it was impossible to notice it from above. I very nearly swam into it. After that, I occasionally closed my eyes and concentrated on the white tree ahead.

I could make human shapes now. I could even make two little girls running on the beach and two men, one holding a striped blue and white towel for me. Our cheerleading team! Galvanized, I doubled the pace - or so it seemed to me.

As I read on a triathlon swim report a while ago, you don't want to look like a wimp at arrival so you sprint to the finish line. Inspired, I swam until I heard my little girls' "hurray's" and made it out of the water on the sand.

The water on the edge felt nice and warm. We quenched our thirst with bottled water and jumped on spekulaas (Dutch-type ginger snaps) to perk up. All counted, stops and all, swimming across Tenaya Lake took us an hour and 10 minutes. Now swimming from Alcatraz doesn't seem that absurd anymore. It's just a matter of trying.

As for Tenaya Lake, I think I'll do it again. Christine likes it too. After all, if my second girl's middle is Tenaya, it's for a good reason. I love that place.

Camping with Children: The Basics

With summer's warm days and late twilights, it's clearly time to think about going camping. Not only is camping it the cheapest vacation option (from $10 to $25/site/night depending on facilities), but as Mindful Mama's Karen Werner reminds us, camping is also eco-chic, meaning good for the planet.

I polled a group of Citymommy members to learn about their camping tips and avid campers responded with enthusiasm. Where to start? First, let's dismiss a few misunderstandings.

What is car camping? Let's face it, car camping and camping and nearly synonymous in the West. Hike-in, kayak-in, ride-in, bicycle-in, wheelbarrow-in camp sites are the exception. What that means is that you can pull up to your camp site with your car, unload a few yards away from where you will pitch your tent, and basically gravitate around your car as you go around your camping business. Car camping does not mean you get to overnight in your car - someone asked me. And if you are going backpacking, you might as well stop reading here. Car camping is just that: getting to your campsite in a car.

What's the best age for children? I've read that children under two years of age were not such a good idea for camping. Why? I can't be sure. According to my experience, there's no such thing as a minimum age for camping. Camping will work great whenever you are ready. Children do fine in most circumstances - it's parents who stress out. Our girls went camping as early as five weeks old. To get children excited about camping, get the animated movie called "Into the Great Outdoors." It's produced by Stephanie Rach-Wilson, a mother of two, and it's great educational material to teach children the ropes of respecting and enjoying the outdoors.

What are the best sleeping arrangements? Breastfed infants can sleep with mom inside the sleeping bag, even if that means not much of a good night's sleep for mom (except if you can join two adult-size sleeping bags and get room to move around). When children are bigger but not ready for a child's sleeping bag yet (say, up to age 2), they can sleep bundled up inside a pack'n play inside the tent. Yes, you read right. When with children, get a tent that your friends can call "the castle." Turrets and moat optional. A big family tent, that is. Big enough that you can walk around in it and set up a pack'n play. Believe me when it's cold outside or raining, you'll appreciate the extra tent room. During the day, you can move the pack'n play underneath a tree for Junior's nap or play time, or you can get some needed rest when you're preparing meals. And then one day your children are big enough for their own sleeping bag and you can proudly take them buy their big kid sleeping bag. Now's not the time to count your pennies. Nothing like a cold night to make someone crabby. Invest in a good quality sleeping bag that sustains +30 to +20 temperatures.

Should you go with friends? Yes, by all means. Camping is as much a community as a back-to-nature activity. As much as we can, we go camping with friends. Even if we don't do the same activity during the day (say, if they don't have children or diverging interests), we love spending the evening together around the campfire. My husband brings his guitar, children get to stay up until the first star shows up in the night sky, and we get to spend a lot of time catching up on each other's lives with a glass of wine. Plus, if your friends have children, theirs and yours can play together. I never worry when I know my kids are playing hide-and-seek in the campground close to us. It's like that old neighborhood feeling, except in the great outdoors. Just watch out for poison oak if you are in coastal areas - long sleeved shirts and pants de rigueur.

What should you not forget? Well, aside from the obvious (your camping stove - it's happened to us), there are a few items that make life a lot easier when camping.

- a plastic basin: to wash & rinse your dishes,

- a big bucket or plastic bin: if there are no showers around, you can fill a big bucket with cold water, boil two big pots full of water, and give a lukewarm "bath" to your children before bedtime. We usually set the tub on a tarp so that they don't have to step out on the dirt to get into their pajamas.

- flashlights, lanterns and glow lights: crazy, I know, but kids don't glow in the dark. So if you want to find yours when it gets pitch black, get them a cute flashlight at your local hardware store, or a lantern with a handle, attach it to a lanyard and let them walk around with their personal light. Glow tubes are sort of a not-so-great option because they don't last more than one night before going to the landfill. Golden environmental sticker to hand-cranked flashlights and lanterns. No batteries, minimal effort and great results.

- a child carrier: if you're going hiking, it's always easier to pick up a child than to cut a hike short.

- a roll of paper towels: you never know when you might have to clean up a mess. Wipes can be used too but they're usually loaded with chemicals so I don't like to use them.

- tweezers: first, ticks do exist in California. Here is all you need to know about ticks and Lyme disease by Tom Stienstra from his book Moon Outdoors Northern California Camping. Also, picnic tables can shed splinters.

- the S'mores set: Graham crackers, marshmallows and chocolate bars. No need to explain why forgetting that part would be disastrous on the morale of the young troups.

- bug boxes: bug boxes are usually found at ranger stations or naturalist stores and allow children to admire smal living animals without hurting them, before releasing them into the wild.

- a portable potty: if you have children under 5 and you don't look forward to a late-night dash to the cabin in the woods, bring a smallish potty and TP.

- bring plenty of layers: that goes for kids and adults. You experience whatever temperature is out there. No fan, no space heater. Never underestimate evening temperatures in the sierras.

- a travel hammock: superlight and sturdy, these can be extremely useful ... and relaxing.

Ranger programs? Ranger programs are the quintessential vacation treat. Says Debbie Abrams from Frisco Kids, "some parks have junior ranger programs where you can drop your kids off for an hour or two. Of course there are also evening programs - they work better for the older set (starting around 6). And national parks have workbooks for the kids where they can earn junior ranger badges or something like that, if they complete them."

As a matter of fact, our girls became respectively Junior Ranger and Little Cub at the Yosemite National Park last year when they were only 3 and 5. Even if they were not quite old enough for this, the ranger was super nice and made a big deal out of it at the ranger station, announcing it to everybody and making my 5-year-old swear the junior ranger path, before awarding the coveted golden badge. Everybody clapped and cheered and my girls still talk about it.

Now enjoy the great outdoors and check back here soon for the best camping spots in Northern California.

Urbia: A Nature Hike with an Urban Flair

Last week, my good friend Susan Silber from Safe Routes to School Transform introduced me by email to Damien Raffa. Together with Barbara Corff, Damien co-founded Urbia Adventure League, an outdoor treasure hunt that rolled out last weekend.

On Saturday June 13, at the foot of the 16th avenue & Moraga mosaic stairs, Damien and his Urbia partners handed out more than 50 adventure packets entitled Islands in the Sky to San Francisco families. "At our adventure starting station," he says, "families warmed up their senses by smelling yerba buena (and tasting some homemade yerba buena tea), the tiny native mint that San Francisco was originally named after."

In a nutshell, Urbia is a way to discover San Francisco through a nature lens - and most likely neighborhoods you knew nothing about before. Urbia is based on the concept of questing - also called letterboxing in England - a variation on outdoors treasure hunts. Thirteen years ago, Damien took a workshop on this form of community involvement, particularly popular in New England.

People received by mail instructions for an outdoors activity including solving riddles, orienting yourself and finding clues. At the end of the itinerary, there might have been a box with a stamp that people used to stamp their booklet.

Says Damien, if you want to connect San Franciscans with nature, you have to make it a fun game. Currently naturalist at the Presidio Trust, Damien knows a thing or two about nature. Urbia was born.

I particularly like the idea of receiving an enveloppe with a mystery to solve in the mail, as my mailbox now only shelters invoices, publications and unwanted ads. It's the tragedy of the digital age, says Damien.

Intrigued by the idea, I asked him if I could "test run" the hike with four little girls from 4 to 6 years of age last Thursday. Obliging, he met me at the bottom of the stairs with a booklet for each little girl and short Urbia pencils with erasers. Off to a great start.

We opened the booklets and began by taking some notes for the exploration: date, starting time, weather, visibility (a must in San Francisco...), air temperature, team members and team name. On our route, we searched for sea stars made out of tiles, a red lfire alarm box, San Francisco's highest dune and rocky outcrops looking like layers of cake.

The girls' attention was piqued when we stopped to identify coast buckwheat, beach strawberry (not in bloom so trickier to tell) and yellow tree lupines - three plants that attract pollinators such as butterflies and bees.

This planted dune is part of the Green Hairstreak Corridor, a project to bring back a butterfly called the green hairstreak the size of a nickel. Expert at camouflaging itself amongst green plants, the green hairstreak has lost most of its habitat to land development. Hence the idea of re-planting San Francisco's hillsides with the appropriate vegetation.

On the green hairstreak note, we have a fun anecdote. In the booklet you're supposed to ask people you encounter if they've ever seen a green butterfly in their neighborhood. All four people we asked had been living in that neighborhood for a long time. None had ever seen that sneaky butterfly! Oh dear.

On with the hike. At the bottom of the booklet's page 8 are four words that made the entire hike worth the effort for the children: "Find the tree swing." What a swing! Part of Golden Gate Heights Park, the swing hangs from a tall cedar (?) tree and can comfortably accomodate two or three young children. Because of the heighth from which it is suspended, the pendulum effect is quite impressive and the experience exhilarating. Now, try to tear away four little girls from that tree swing... It takes a lot of persuasion.

The last part of the hike took us on a view of San Francisco I never dreamed existed. Since my camera does not shoot panoramic pictures, this is only one slice of it with the long green stretch of the Golden Gate Park and the Golden Gate Bridge and Marin in the distance. To my right was the Bay Bridge hiding behind Treasure Island. If not for a powerful wind, I would have stayed there longer. Alas, all good things have an end.

We closed the loop and got back in the car, already excited about Urbia's next adventure. As a Russian Hill mother said last Saturday to Damien, "we often try to have an outdoor experience with guidebooks and they are too adult-oriented. This is perfect for our kids." True - and older children will appreciate the full flavor of snipets of local geology and environmental education.

Another Urbia event will be planned in the same neighborhood on June 27, 2009 from 10am to noon. Look for it here.

Cherry Picking In Brentwood

In case you haven't heard, the season for cherries is now. Bing cherries, Rainier cherries, Brooks cherries; there are more cherries than you ever dreamed of just 60 miles east of San Francisco. Hundreds of trees literally loaded with jewel-like shiny plump and juicy ruby fruits.

The Brentwood farmers are well organized and their great website references all the surrounding farms growing cherries (amongst 45 products) with description of the farm settings and "u-pick" options.

Based on recommendations, we took the 1.5 hour drive through golden hills already burned by the sun, fields of wind farms and silver ribbon of winding roads to get to Brentwood. Once there, it's like an oasis in the desert. Somewhere you can't help marveling at the wonders of irrigation. Green orchards all around, and more "Cherries" signs on the roadside than anywhere else I've been.

I fancied Rainier cherries (the whitish variety) so we headed to Pomeroy Farm. Much in the fashion of Half Moon Bay's pumpkin patches, Brentwoods orchards are close to one another and all grow the same fruit (more or less) so there's a lot of choice for families.

At the entrance, we signed a paper promising not to let the kids climb on ladders and to pay for a mimimum of five lbs of cherries ($2/lb) when exiting. We picked a galvanized metal bucket (with handy hook to hang from your picking branch) but our girls preferred to drag along the wicker baskets we brought from home. I bet they felt like the little red riding cherry-picking hood.

Since there were so many cars parked outside, I thought we would need to walk miles before finding a half-eaten fruit on the trees but lo and behold, we found some right in the second row. Sweet. The nice part, for people like us with little (read "short") children, is that most of the trees have low-hanging branches that make for scandalously easy picking at junior level.

Part of the fun is also getting to the highest branches for the "right" cherries and for this, we proceeded with a little imagination and a great team effort. We said kids wouldn't climb on ladders - yes - but we didn't countersign that they wouldn't climb on their parents' shoulders! One on my shoulders, the other one holding the basket, they thought it was great.

Before we brought our girls to the cherry farm, it's fair to say they were not cherry enthusiasts. They wouldn't try one if we bought a pound at our local market. However when in the orchard, I encouraged them to taste one cherry from each tree to find just the right flavor. That was genius, man. They got totally hooked and soon were reviewing sweetness, acidity and texture of the different fruits tasted, hurrying from one tree to the next and offering us better halves.

In less than an hour, we gathered 8 lbs of cherries. Ironically, the Rainier cherries, the very reason I chose Pomeroy Farm, were not quite ready yet. So we ended up bringing back home only red cherries. Plus, the Pomeroy Farm is a former walnut orchard and they still sell walnuts grown on the farm. They were simply delicious and I'm glad we brought back two bags.

Now. What do you do with 8 lbs of cherries? As my father always poetically says, eating too many cherries will have quick effects on your digestive tract. Thanks Papa for the reminder, but let's not forget cherries are loaded with all sorts of antioxydants.

The real answer to my question is a cherry clafoutis. In France there's only one recipe that rhymes with cherries as sure as wine rhymes with cheese, it's cherry clafoutis. Think of it as a thick pancake with cherries baked in the oven and dusted with icing sugar.

I won't post a link to the two cherry clafoutis recipes on epicurian.com because one offers to eat it with vanilla ice cream and the other one includes cinnamon in the recipe, which are both borderline criminal.

I took my recipe from Les Douceurs de l'Enfance, a lip-smacking book with artistic photos of French childhood favorites. However since not everybody reads French, the next best recipe was this one (with metric weight measures) or this one as a strawberry variation that Clotilde Dusoulier from the Chocolate & Zucchini food blog wrote for NPR's Kitchen Window. Enjoy!

As for me, I know I'll be driving on the same road this summer to pick some nectarines, apricots and peaches. Can't wait, apricots were already starting to blush!

Tosca at the Ball Park

"What's more telling of opera than a hotdog?" That's how my friend John greeted me as I returned from the concessions stand with three hotdogs at San Francisco's ATT&T Park for the Tosca Simulcast. Tosca, one of the most celebrated operas, was transmitted live from the War Memorial House at the Ball Park on a 103-feet long HDTV screen.

Free opera for the masses, what a fantastic initiative! Opera should not be reserved to the few who can afford the cost of full-staged production with orchestra at an opera house. If opera wants to live on, it also needs to go to the streets just as opera arias did when people sang "Va' pensiero" at Verdi's funeral. These composers were rock stars then.

Their music is still as beautiful today and should not become extinct for financial reasons. That's why the Ball Park is such an appropriate place for opera simulcasts. The performance is free. And ... you can get your beer, popcorn and hotdog all while listening to beautiful music that transcends centuries and countries. Plus, the Ball Park has a few interesting twists sure to appeal to the non-opera crowd.

As free coded ticket holders, we got in half an hour early and spread our blanket on the lawn for our picnic. The children very much loved that.

Before the performance, everybody rose to sing The Star Spangled Banner. I was in the hot dog line then and grinned from ear to ear as people walked by with their hand on their heart.

At the intermission, we were treated to a rendering of "Take Me Out To The Opera" where everybody sang the words based on the famous baseball song. The best part, however, was how much people were involved in the story.

In theory, it's not a setting everybody can relate to. Rome, turn of the 20th century, a celebrated opera singer, a mean police officer, an artist on the run, the gallows ready. But hey, love is universal. So is injustice. Never before have I seen people cheer and clap so wildly at a woman stabbing an oppressor on stage. In the exit line, a young guy went "Man, did you see how she got him? Not once but twice, even in the back!" That's the kind of reaction opera should trigger. It means it's very much alive.

Now do yourself a favor and don't forget to sign up for the next Simulcast on September 19. It's going to be Verdi's Il Trovatore.

From Bothe-Napa Valley to the Bale Grist Mill

Eleven miles south of Chateau Montelena, the winery that put Californian wines on the map with the 1976 Judgment of Paris - romanticized in the Hollywood blockbuster Bottle Shock - lies the sole survivor of Napa Valley's past as the Golden Valley: the Bale Grist Mill. Before the Napa Valley churned profit from red and white liquid gold, grain farming was the main crop in the valley. Along with fields of grain came a tradition of milling. That was 1846, three years before John Marshall kicked off the Gold Rush.

As we were camping at the Bothe-Napa Valley State Park, we went from Bothe-Napa to the Bale Grist Mill by way of land. Passing by the park's spring-fed swimming pool, we veered on the History Trail and stopped at the 1850s pioneer cemetery.

Beneath a hill of rustling wild oats and rattlesnake grass, members of the Tucker, Cole, Kellog and other families lay low in the ground. We entered the white-fenced rectangular plot and looked at the stones. "This one was a baby," I said. And I read the name and age of the departed: Ida A. Hoover, one year, three months and four days, May 1869 - August 1870. Our children looked down in disbelief. One hundred and thirty years later, from then to now. It was a special moment.

We continued our way up the hill to the ridge before descending through an oak canyon traversed by dry river beds. Along this moderate 1.2 mile hike, we did not meet a single soul and our little ones played hide-and-seek in the descending portions of the trail.

As we finally arrived at the Bale Grist Mill, remains of ditches and ponds told the silent story of the once lively mill.

According to the ranger on duty last Sunday, there used to be 18 mills from Santa Cruz to Napa. I think he meant only grist mills as there were for sure a lot of sawmills - take Sutter's Mill up in Coloma or the "Old Mill" that gave its name to the Bay Area town of Mill Valley, they were sawmills. Anyhow, the Bale Grist Mill is now the only surviving historic mill of its kind in California.

Constructed by Dr. Edward Bale in 1846 and maintained after his death by his wife Maria, the grist mill featured a 36-feet high water-wheel using the diverted waters of Mill Creek through an aerial flume system. The system is still in place and every single weekend, rangers in costumes operate the machinery.

Inside the mill, our children got to follow the grinding process from grain to meal. As Eric the ranger took ears of dried corn in his hands, the children gathered round. They each got an ear of corn and fed it through a hand-cranked machine that separates the kernels from the ear in seconds.

After that, Eric lifted a trap door in the floor and uncovered the cogs turning below the building. He then showed the big round grinding stones coming from a Parisian quarry (now supposedly underneath Disneyland Paris' parking lot) and prepared the children for the water wheel.

Before the giant wheel was set in motion, the creaky noise of chains pulling, the smooth sound of belts sliding and the gurgle of water flowing filled the buildin and the surrounding grounds. At full force, it must have been a defeaning noise.

The childen ran outside and watched in awe. Big machines are beautiful things. That day they were grinding corn for polenta. In paper sacks on a table were other types of flour ground on site: spelt, whole wheat pastry, whole wheat bread, rye, cornmeal and polenta. The children got to pass around wooden ladles of grain before and after grinding. It was great.

After the demonstration, we took a sack of polenta back for the evening meal. At the campground, our friend Klas obliged by following Miller George's Polenta recipe and the Napa Valley grinding experience came full circle accompanied by bottles of wine from the nearby Summers Estate Wines.

Who knew Napa Valley had a past behind the bottle?