A Day In Clovis

Went to Clovis on Sunday.

I've been looking for a bench style cedar chest for the foot of my bed, and I found a perfect one at a great price on Craigslist.  There was just one thing. . . .it was in Clovis, more than 150 miles away.  But then I decided that wasn't so far for a professional driver, and Clovis looked like a cute town.  So when the seller said she'd hang on to it for me until I could make it out this weekend, I figured why not?

It was a beautiful day, the Pacheco pass clothed in autumn brown and gold, the irrigated fields still green where pickers working in a long row were furiously trimming produce and pitching it into transport wagons.  The air was filled with the scent of garlic.  I don't care much for garlic, but for some reason it always smells awesomely good driving through Gilroy, like jars of dill pickles freshly opened, or something savory and wonderful simmering on the stove. Somewhere past Casa de Fruta I saw a small herd of Belted Galloway cattle, an old Scottish breed developed to thrive in poor pasture.  Compared to the hard conditions of the Scottish uplands where they originated, they were in lush pasture shaded by old oaks, eye catching by the side of the road in their striking black coats and white cummerbunds.  When I came out of the Pacheco Pass onto the floor of the San Joaquin Valley just past the San Luis Reservoir, I looked for the Tule Elk I saw grazing there last year on my way to Slab City.  But they were off doing elk business somewhere else.

I stayed on State Route 152 through Los Banos, and arrowed across the valley to 99, then to 180 and the rural outskirts of Clovis, where the parcels have been subdivided into ranchettes with nice homes built on them.  I found the address with no trouble, and loaded up the cedar chest with help from the sellers.  Nice people.  They told me the old downtown of Clovis was a great place to go antiquing and had lots of charm and fun stores, but cautioned me that many stores might be closed for Sunday.  I got quick directions and set off in search of lunch.

Old Town Clovis is charming, light and cheery and filled with tons of antique stores, boutiques and gift shops.  The first thing that caught my eye was A Book Barn.

The outside is deceptively bland, but inside it is a book lover's paradise, with a warm, cozy vibe that lets you know you are in the right place.

This is everything a used bookstore should be!  Two levels, nonfiction on the upper mezzanine and fiction below.  Wonderfully well organized so it is easy to find what you are looking for, yet with just enough bookish clutter and warm wood glass-front cases to give you the sense that around a corner or tucked into a nook you are bound to find an unexpected treasure.

Mass market paperbacks are shelved alphabetically by author, as are hardback and trade fiction.  And they know what they have!  No blank looks or vague waving of the hand when you ask for help finding something.  When I asked for Diana Gabaldon titles, for instance, they knew right away that there weren't any to be had at the moment (thanks to the wildly popular Outlander series being made even more popular by the television show), though they double checked to make sure.

They have a nice children's section, romance, science fiction, fantasy, and an impressive collection of young adult fiction.  Also classics, poetry, and probably a number of others I don't recall.

There was a wonderful collection of antiquarian children's books.

This case had children's miniatures and special vintage items.

I was in raptures to find shelves of western americana fiction, including collectible hardback editions of the ubiquitous Zane Grey, and I even found a B.M. Bower novel and a couple of Will James titles (both of which I collect, though I had copies of all the titles they had).  These books are not being sold at bargain prices, but they are fairly priced for antiquarian books and it's worth it to be able to find such a great collection of neat old vintage fiction.  I couldn't resist The Gaspards of Pine Croft by Ralph Connor, both because it seemed like an inviting story and because of the wonderful pictorial cover.  I have a weakness for the old pictorial hardboard covers on vintage books.

I never made it upstairs, which is sort of a shame since I don't know when I'll get back to Clovis.  But while I was wandering around on the bottom floor I passed an alcove of romance books where two ladies were comfortably tucked away, sitting on the floor to read and browse.  One of them said, with that happy little note of contentment that book lovers have when surrounded by their favorite books, "I could just stay here forever and live here.  They have all my books!"

 You'll find loads of rare and collectible vintage and antiquarian stock along with plenty of everyday fare.  Fascinating ephemera rubbing shoulders with bargains priced to sell, some of them very cleverly packaged, like this shelf near the front desk.

The proceeds from the sale of these coquettishly packaged volumes go to support the Central Valley Young Writers Contest.  You can just see the plain brown bags on the lower shelf that I presume have multiple books in them with the genre printed on the bag.  See the single book labelled "Love in horse country?"  I couldn't walk away.  Anything with love, horse, and country in the description has got my attention.  I figure I've gotten my dollar's worth just from the tingle of anticipation at what I'll find when I unwrap it.  Will it be trashy, mildly diverting, a complete waste of time or an unexpected treasure?  I'll let you know.

A Book Barn upper level non-fiction section

Owners Dan and Peggy Dunklee are real book lovers, real purveyors of books.  They have a lot going on at the Book Barn, book clubs, special events, charity programs and more.  There were lots of people coming and going and it was easy to see that beyond just being a cool bookstore, this place is an important part of the community.  If you are a book lover who lives in the Fresno/Clovis area, count yourself fortunate to have a first rate example of a vanishing breed:  the truly great used bookstore.  If you are a collector looking for something special, they may be able to help you find what you are looking for.  And if you are a book lover passing through Clovis with time for only one stop, make it A Book Barn.  Find them at 640 Clovis Avenue, Clovis, CA, or on the web at www.clovisbookbarn.com.  They get a well-deserved Five Trees On The Mountain!



I asked several people about local thrift stores, but I kept being pointed to downtown Clovis' great collection of antique stores.  I like antiques, but don't really need to collect any more than I already have, and these days I prefer thrifting.  All the nearby thrift stores seemed to be closed on Sunday though, so after Book Barn I went looking for lunch.  A likely looking Cafe had just closed, but the ladies sitting outside in the perfect October afternoon directed me to a family owned Mexican restaurant called Salsa.  I tried to find it, but got derailed when one of the streets nearby was closed off for a Halloween trick-or-treat event for the kids.  I parked Goose and went walking, but I couldn't find Salsa and somehow wound up wandering into another place called Bobby Salazar's Restaurant and Cantina.

It turned out to be a bit more Cantina than Restaurant, a rather dark bar with a wall of TV's showing all the games and a number of booths on the opposite wall.  But the bartender was welcoming and I was hungry, so I ordered the chimichanga.  Service was fast, friendly, and efficient, and with almost preternatural speed, my a la carte carnitas chimichanga appeared with generous sour cream and guacamole on the side. Except that it wasn't quite right.  It was hot, loaded with meat and cheese (and little else), but resting on a slick of grease.  I realize that fried burritos (which is what chimichangas are) are not a low fat item, but there is a difference between a good chimi--light, crisp, golden brown-- and what was on my plate.  I could have taken a picture of it, but I wasn't inspired to record what looked like nothing so much as an enormous Hot Pocket.  It was flatter than you'd expect and had odd indentations along it's length, regular pressed-in lines that looked suspiciously factory made.  And it was not crisp like it had come out of a fryer, but sort of heavy and soggy as if it had been popped from the freezer into the microwave (which would explain how it had magically appeared in front of me minutes after I ordered).  I am probably making it sound worse than it was and could certainly be wrong about the cooking method.  It was flavorful, hot, and cheesy, but really, it was not a true chimi, not any kind of authentic Mexican cooking and certainly not worthy of the nine dollar entree price.  I ate half and boxed the remainder, but it wasn't improved by the ride home.  Fresh sour cream, good guacamole and great service earn this joint Two Trees, but I walked out of there thinkin' I should have gone to Salsa.

I puttered around, going into a couple of antique stores.  They were fine, full of the usual varied merchandise and sporting friendly, knowledgeable proprietors.  In one shop the owner told me the story of a stuffed teddy bear that was for sale.  He had rescued it from a family who were going to throw it away.  It was a very old bear with mohair fur and the traditional straw excelsior stuffing, but in bad shape.  The man took him to a local doll hospital and had him patched up, then posed him for a Christmas themed cover photo of an antique magazine.  He showed me the magazine and the bear did look very happy, riding a trike under Santa's smiling eye.  I wondered about who had once loved that bear and what had become of them and if they had known he was about to be thrown in the trash, and then I thought how sad it must have been for the bear.  I started to feel a terribly sentimental children's book narrative forming up in my head about this poor bear's adventures (not an original idea, I admit), so I hastily thanked the man for rescuing the bear and hurried out of the shop before the chapter where the bear comes home with Mountain Kimmie to live with all her other stuffed animals could unfold.

A lot of places that looked like they would be fun to check out were closed, either closed for Sunday or on short Sunday hours.

But then I found Bear Creek Gifts and Cabin Decor.

I only had about 15 minutes to shop before they closed, which was maddening because of course I'm all about the rustic!  Three rooms full of western, country, rustic and cabin gifts and decor.

They had an enormous log bed, and a whole room of rustic furniture.

Lamps, clocks, rugs, throw pillows, and tons of other housewares for the cabin or country home.  Also small, quality gifts suitable for housewarming, stocking stuffers or just because, and some fun stuff for kids.  They were having a sale on small throw rugs for $19 and I almost bought one for KD, but decided she didn't need yet another throw rug.  I had a hard time resisting the cotton afghan throws though, especially the one with a travel trailer and the legend that "Home is where you hook up!" or the one with the woodsy cabin scene.

This kitty made me think of Demeter of The Wild, a mountain lion of my acquaintance.

Fortunately these folks have a website, so if you don't live near Clovis you can still shop for the rustic!  I found them very helpful and accommodating, happy to arrange shipping or answer questions about any product.  You can take a virtual tour of the store on their website, and if you can't find what you are looking for, owners Larry and Pat Grossi will be glad to help you if you give them a call.

I bought a little pine tree hook for KD, and a small gift for a niece.  They had a great collection of wall hooks in many designs, most of which you can find on the website.  Maybe it was a blessing that I didn't have much time to shop, because I could have done some serious damage to the bank account in that place.

Find Bear Creek Gifts and Cabin Decor at 400 Clovis Avenue, Clovis, CA, or at www.bearcreekgifts.com.  Or give them a call at (877) 644-1579.  Mountain Kimmie gives them Five Trees! (I sort of have to).

I got back to Goose, parked on Fifth Street in front of the Rodeo Coffee Shop (sadly, closed for the afternoon--I so wish I could have had lunch there).   I found her hanging out with some new friends.  That was a missed photo opportunity, now that I think about it.  Kids in costume were lined up on the sidewalk with their parents, getting ready to get into blocked off Pollasky Avenue for the trick-or-treating festival.  They were draped all over the good and faithful Goose, who always tries to make herself useful.  I wish now that I'd taken that picture.  One kid had a great costume.  He was entirely encased in a tight fitting, stretchy black garment, even his head.  He looked like a featureless doll perched on Goose's back bumper.  When I asked if I was seeing the invisible man hanging out with my truck he leaped up and darted away, vanishing with startling speed.  It was quite unnerving and very effective.  I complimented his mom on the great costume.   There were so many kids milling around that I was having fits trying to keep them all in view until I recruited a couple of adults to watch carefully as I backed up and then pulled away so I wouldn't run over anyone.

I was headed for the Pilot Travel Center in Madera, and it was a long, weary slog on surface streets with a million lights to get back to 99, and then the Garmin was confused by the fact that the Pilot was on "18 1/2 Road".  I wound up in front of an empty field on 18 Road.  There was no way to enter 1/2 into the address field as far as I could tell, but it found the address when I searched for the name.  Google Maps on the smartphone would also have quickly found it, a good example of why it can be helpful to have more than one GPS system onboard. Goose got a quart of oil and a tank of gas and I got a free coffee with my Pilot card. 

While I gave Goose her oil and threw out the trash and fixed a cold drink for the drive home, I saw an older man sitting in his truck with a camper a few spaces away.  He had a big white cowboy hat and he looked like an old, retired trucker.  He reminded me so much of Ken, and suddenly there was an overwhelming sense of Kenny's presence.  This happens sometimes, especially when I'm on the road or getting gas at truck stops.  I'll feel him near . . . .

I set the GPS for home and we got on the road, headed north on 99 to catch 152 back toward Pacheco Pass.  The sun was low, shining right in my eyes for awhile.  But then it dropped below the Diablo Range that was drawing closer as we rolled west, until the last tiny twinkling gleam winked out behind a peak and the sky was filled with golden and amber light, the blue above deepening with every passing minute.  Through Los Banos as night began to draw near, past the milk processing facility, milk trucks unloading their tanks as I went by, and then out of town and climbing gently into the hills and the Pacheco Pass, the San Luis reservoir glimmering on my left.

Got home about 8:30 and left the cedar chest in the back of the truck for the night, too tired to deal with wrestling it inside.  I'll put up a picture of it later when I get a chance.

It was another successful run for the MKT&TC.  Cargo delivered.

Vintage fiction from A Book Barn, Clovis CA