Sitting at Deetjen’s having breakfast about 90 years after it was built. A fog is blanketing the highway to signal that we stepped into someplace like The Shire to step out of it again after we eat. Being “hidden” in this way is so deeply relaxing and eerie. I can hear this place make its way into a CSNY or Joni song. 

The interior is really dedicated to antique (baroque?) ornaments and rustic cottage furniture. All that’s missing is a bard.  

Some youths at the table next to us - can’t imagine they’re even college age - are talking about their favorite methods of ingesting shroom, which makes me laugh to myself.

We had intended to come here and then forgot about it. Ended up coming by accident traveling North from the Boronda Trail instead of South towards our next trail.