"The food!" says Adam when people ask what we miss about New York (and they do, reliably). But I miss the walking even more. I loved being able to get almost anywhere by foot, and I loved heading out whenever I grew antsy. Here, it's tougher. We're in a part of town where you can walk, but there are no sidewalks, and I've already explained that the driving is erratic. Also, you first have to walk 10 minutes down our street just to reach the development's front gate.
Sometimes, I tag along if Adam is going to the gym in Santa Barbara, and I walk around there. Or I might drive myself somewhere and explore. But having to drive in order to walk drains away some of the pleasure.
Yesterday, I couldn't take being in the house anymore, so I walked from our house to an area called Riven Rock. It's an old estate, created by the McCormick family (which founded International Harvester), that has been carved up over the years. The history is fascinating. From an article in the Independent:
The family hired the eminent behavioral scientist Dr. Gilbert Van Tassel Hamilton, who operated a primate laboratory at Riven Rock in the hope that this work would result in a cure for Stanley’s problems [with schizophrenia]. Unfortunately, help for Stanley was not forthcoming; periods of lucidity alternated with bouts of dementia, even violence.
Everything was done to see to Stanley’s comfort and happiness. A nine-hole golf course was constructed, a musical director hired, a theater built for live performances and movies, a large art collection developed. Periodically, Stanley was driven in one of the Rolls-Royces to the family’s beach cottage at Sandyland. Yet such was his condition, Katharine was basically forbidden to see her husband. She spent much of the year in Boston and usually stayed at a hotel when here. Stanley’s mother took to viewing her son from afar with binoculars.
While the main house didn't survive, "many of its out-buildings now [serve] as residences." Evidence of the old grounds—gates, walls, and vestigial stairs—is visible here and there.
The third photo above is at a house we tried to buy a few years ago. We put in an offer, and the counter was within range, but we had reservations about the neoclassical style, so we backed out. It probably didn't help that I would refer to the house as "the shoppes at Caesars Palace"; moreover, even if the bars on the front windows were architecturally appropriate, they felt wrong at the price point. (Riven Rock took it on the chin during the debris flow of 2018. The house we considered was OK, but others nearby were damaged or even destroyed.)
On my recent walk, I noticed this funky curbstone. I wonder what its story is.
There are many extraordinary trees—no surprise given that the estate was built in the late 19th century.
Most of the houses aren't visible from the street, but they seem to be a mix of fancy and relatively modest. Here's a mailbox that appears to date from when the area was more rustic.
But my favorite thing about Riven Rock might be the signage. Montecito is known for its carved-wood street signs, which are indeed terrific, but the ones at Riven Rock have a funkier font, like something out of a fairy tale. They're even more charming when they're embedded within hedges.
