Today I took a break from my travels to spend the day in Santa Cruz with my brother, Dave. Today would have been dad’s 87th birthday, had he not died two years ago. Dave and I decided then that we’d get together on Dad’s birthday each year at some location where the family had vacationed. So this year Dave drove down from his home in Elk Grove, and I took a pause in my road trip to meet him.
We rendezvoused at Roaring Camp, which is a narrow gauge railroad set among the redwoods in Felton. It’s a re-creation of a late 19th/early 20th century logging railroad, with authentic steam locomotives, a depot, a general store, a water tower, and other elements of an old logging camp. We had gone there as a family a few times in the late 1960s and early 1970s, and rode the train on the one-and-a-half hour loop through the redwoods. Roaring Camp is situated right next to Henry Cowell State Park, so we’d sometimes walk over to the trains while we camping or picnicking at the park. Those were good memories.
Today, virtually everything about Roaring Camp was as I had remembered it. As a family-owned business, it hasn’t been subject to corporate re-branding or major tech investments. Instead, it’s just a simple steam railroad, still operating as it would have 100 years ago. The employees wear period costumes, and there are no cars permitted in the park.
Dad (and mom) were patient with their two boys at Roaring Camp. Dave and I tended to fight endlessly. Dave once lost his train ticket minutes before boarding. We were constantly hungry and asking for ice cream and money to buy souvenirs. I nearly lost a hand retrieving a penny that I’d placed on the tracks to be squashed by the train. And yet, I have memories of wonderful times at Roaring Camp, and I think dad enjoyed it too. It appealed to his (electrical) engineer’s mind. And he enjoyed seeing us have fun. It also helped that it was far less expensive, and much closer, than Disneyland. Later in life Dad would even take his grandson, Ian, to Roaring Camp.
If Dad was patient with us at Roaring Camp, the same can’t be said about the times we had visited the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, just a few miles down the road. Dave and I loved the Boardwalk, which felt like a garish, noisy, exciting land of games and rides and food and music and, of course, beach. It was originally opened shortly after the turn of the 20th century, and was intended as the west coast’s answer to Coney Island. Dave and I particularly liked the Giant Dipper, an old wooden roller coaster built in 1924. We also spent hours in what was then called the “Penny Arcade,” which was a large hall filled with old pinball games, Skee-Ball courts, animatronic fortune tellers (think Zoltar from the movie “Big”), a shooting gallery, and various other diversions There wasn’t a single video game in the place. Most of the stuff looked ancient, as though it had been there since the 1920s or 1930s. That, to me, made it special. You just could’t get this experience anywhere else. But it also meant that Dave and I were constantly asking dad for coins, which I’m sure got old after awhile.
We also begged mom and dad to indulge us with the Boardwalk’s fare, particularly cotton candy and salt water taffy. Dad in particular saw this to be a massive waste of money. But he usually relented a little. This was certainly the case the day I turned 11 and Dad took me (and only me) to the Boardwalk for my birthday celebration. Much cotton candy was consumed. I also got a wrist band for endless rides throughout the day. I must have ridden the Giant Dipper a dozen times.
Today, Dave and I revisited three rides from our youth: The Haunted Mansion, the Sky Glider, and, of course, the Giant Dipper. They were all as fun as I remembered them, though I was a little self-conscious as a retiree riding these things with his brother. We also checked out a new attraction: the Fright Walk, where you walk through a long, darkened maze while various ghouls, skeletons, zombies, and whatnot jump out at you. I have to admit it was one of the best such things I’ve experienced this side of Lobby Day at the state Capitol.
Anyway, on this anniversary of my dad’s birth, I want to acknowledge his hard work and dedication to his family. And for taking us to Roaring Camp and the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk. It was good to relive those memories today.
BREW OF THE DAY
Today’s BOTD was a Seismic Megathrust IPA. I admit that I chose it strictly on the basis of the name.
The beer was served at Redwood Pizzeria in Felton, and it was brewed by the Seismic Brewing Company in Santa Rosa. It’s a typical modern IPA (and I’m sure you’ve had a million of them, as they seem to be the most popular style these days). It had the typical hoppy profile, with lots of pine and citrus on the nose, and tropical fruit on the palate. With an ABV of 7.5 percent, you can’t throw back many of these. But it sure tasted good on this hot day (it was about 90 degrees).
Until tomorrow,
sdb
Chasing Phantoms 