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Julian after the Fires: Oasis atop a Moonscape

By Kris Grant

Last September I spent two weekends in the mountain community of Julian, combining a little R&R with some research for a travel story to warm the hearts of Coronadans in our coldest months of the year.

This is not the story I had envisioned. The good news is that all that we love about this former gold-mining town turned apple-pie central is still there. But I also discovered a delicious slice of humanity in this tight-knit community that I might never have known prior to the fires of October.

My first weekend was spent at the Orchard Hill Country Inn, a four-diamond property perched on a hill above Julian proper. It was heaven at every turn. Two weeks later I returned to the mountains, this time to spend a quiet retreat in nearby Pine Hills at Big Cat Cabin, a circa-1929 cabin set on six private acres and part of the Artist’s Loft B&B. Just me, seven deer and 17 wild turkeys.

The Cedar Fire

Shortly following my stay, the largest fire in San Diego County’s history ravaged more than 272,000 acres throughout the backcountry surrounding Julian. As the inferno raged ever onward, I was glued to my TV, watching and waiting to discover the fate of these welcoming and peaceful inns. Word was not forthcoming, so
a few days after the fires were contained, I called the innkeepers.

Orchard Hill Country Inn Innkeeper Craig Straube told me his family was extremely grateful to the firefighters who held the flames at bay, saving not only the town of Julian but the inn and his own house, where flames came within 500 feet. And when I called the Artist Loft’s innkeepers, Chuck and Nanessence Kimball, Nanessence’s gentle voice recording told me that Big Cat Cabin and its sister cabin, Strawberry Hill, had been spared. But, amid “the many unexpected blessings of the fire,” Nan conveyed, their bed-and-breakfast home and two-story barn home, under construction and nearing completion, had been totally destroyed.

A little background is in order to understand how severe this blow was for the Kimballs. Artists themselves, the couple had moved to Pine Hills from Del Mar 14 years ago, opening their B&B and renovating the two historic cabins. But their most ambitious art project was building the barn home, which the couple had done almost entirely by themselves. They used fir reclaimed from a Crescent City warehouse, painstakingly sanded each board and created the tongue-and-groove joints to hold the structure together.

When I arrived for my September visit, I found the Kimballs hard at work installing the flooring. They
excitedly told me about the upcoming “Julian Open Studios” artists’ studio tour, for which their new home would be a venue. Now they were racing the clock to install windows in time for the home to be used in the show, which would showcase not only their own artwork but also that of several other Pine Hill artists. The barn home, housing their paintings and etchings, was, in many respects, their greatest work of art, and a
collaborative piece at that.

The aftermath...

I returned to Julian on Nov. 15 to survey the damage to the community and to assess whether I could rightly encourage readers of this article to visit the mountain retreat. (That answer is an unequivocal, “Yes!”) Coincidentally, this would have been the date of the Open Studios tour. Surely it had been canceled, I told myself.

The three most direct routes to Julian from Coronado all start by heading east on Highway 8. If you want to stop at Dudley’s Bakery in Santa Isabel, hitch a left on Highway 67 in El Cajon; that’s the long way, but enjoyable, not only for that fresh-baked bread but also for some antiquing in Ramona. If you’d like the route with the least amount of curves and a panoramic view of the Anza Borrego Desert, take the Sunrise Highway, a few miles further down the 8. But if you’re prepared for a local dose of shock and awe, take Highway 79.

That’s what I did. Highway 79 is home to the richly forested Cuyamaca State Park. The historic park headquarters and museum I had visited five years ago are now rubble and all park entrances are closed, blocked by hastily erected chain-link fences with stern “No Parking” signs posted. Cuyamaca State Park is home to four varieties of pines — ponderosa, jeffrey, coulter and sugar — along with sycamore, alder and majestic live and black oak. I had always enjoyed the highway’s winding path through these forests, where the trees’ foliage would often envelope the roadway, creating one of the county’s most scenic byways.

Alas, it is nearly all gone, replaced by a surreal landscape. For miles and miles and miles and miles you look right, you look left and you see scorched earth and blackened boulders. It is not coincidental that what had been the most beautiful parts of Cuyamaca are now the most devastated, for they are where the most fuel was. Here the carcasses of twisted, burned-out pines seem to raise terrified arms into the sky. But as you emerge from the worst parts, you begin to see oaks with singed leaves, and wonder, “Might they survive to become great once again?”

Along the way, former wood fences along the roadside were laid flat in rows of burned logs. At one point a vinyl fence lay melted in waves along the ground, resembling nothing so much as a Salvador Dali painting.

As I approached Julian, black ground turned to black-brown and then I began to see trees that were brown on one side, green on the other. I rounded the bend and the hamlet of Julian looked as serene and cozy as it did last September. I enjoyed breakfast at the Julian Café (“Built in 1872, burned down in 1957, restored in 1978,” the sign reads) and learned that not one of the employees here lost a home, but that six employees at the nearby Rongbranch restaurant weren’t so lucky. After breakfast, I once again meandered through shops like the American Gardener, where I scooped up potpourri from wooden buckets to take home memories of what is once-again clean mountain air. The aroma from Mom’s Pies reminded me to take home a pie or two. Main Street is bustling. Julian is nothing short of an oasis atop a moonscape.

But there were poignant reminders that things have changed. Julian’s Town Hall, where popular melodramas have been staged over the years, was home to a “general store,” where area residents could take whatever they needed, no-questions-asked. Donations of clothes, food, tools, dog food and blankets flooded the community. Red Cross and Salvation Army workers set up shop, and throughout the community and in the surrounding mountain towns there were signs expressing gratitude to firefighters and police.

The Show Does Go On

Another sign caught my eye: “Julian Open Studios” tour. The show did go on! I visited several studios, discovering the hidden talents of these backcountry artists: basket makers, sculptors and painters. As I drove along winding private roads, I was amazed at how close the fires came to many homes. At the home of Leena Hannonen, a sculptor who was also the tour organizer, I am told that she and fellow artists were collecting funds for the Kimballs and other artists who lost their homes and studios. A small token, but a reminder of Nanessence’s recorded phone message about unexpected blessings.

I pressed on to Artist’s Loft, and spotted Nan and Chuck through the window at Big Cat Cabin. They saw me, walked away from their work and said nothing and everything in a spontaneous embrace. They moved temporarily into the Big Cat; it will be available to rent out again by January. And, yes, they will rebuild both the B&B and the barn home. Yes, thank goodness, they told me, they were insured. But, no, this time they won’t do the work themselves.

“How do you keep your spirits up?” I asked Nan.

“Sometimes you don’t,” she said simply. “Sometimes you just let yourself fall apart. You cry. It comes in waves. Then you make some coffee, or pour some whiskey, or you just go to bed.”

The fire had swept up the canyon and consumed the two large homes, just passing by the two cabins. “It was the will of the wind,” Nan says with a shrug. “The fire knew where it wanted to go. Look at the homes across the road; they’re untouched.”

“Did you see the barn house?” asked Chuck. “No? Well, don’t look. You don’t want to see it.”

“That fire burned hot,” Nan said, eyes still incredulous. “We were installing an antique porcelain tub. It melted into a puddle. Cast iron. Even our bricks melted.”

Orchard Hill Country Inn

Now, let me take you back to my stay at Orchard Hill, and share this happy experience, for the inn and its family of innkeepers stand ready to greet you.

The inn’s lodge and five cottages, all in California Craftsman style, are rich in tapestries, overstuffed chairs and antique furnishings, providing an overall feel reminiscent of America’s National Park lodges. I stayed in the lodge, which features native stone from nearby Borrego Springs and includes 10 guest rooms and an upstairs clubroom filled with a variety of videos for in-room viewing. The Great Room with its massive fireplace, also of native stone, features a lounge bar where afternoon hors d’oeuvres, premium wines and select beers are served and where guests can meet and mingle. The guests-only dining room, the Julian Room, is actually two rooms, one featuring floor-to-ceiling murals of the Julian townscape, the outer room providing panoramic views of the actual town.

The cottages incorporate 12 individually decorated suites, each named after an apple variety, with wet bars, dual-sided fireplaces and oversize whirlpool tubs. A new conference center offers state-of-the-art electronics, a stone fireplace and kitchen.

Orchard Hill opened in 1994 after innkeepers Pat and Darrell Straube traded in their fast-paced life in
Orange County to stake their claim on a new lifestyle that would unite their family, including son Craig, daughter-in-law Melanie and granddaughters Ashley and Taylor in a kinder, gentler community. Darrell was CFO at Hughes Aircraft and Pat owned an interior design firm. Her design excellence is evident throughout every room; my charming room featured an overstuffed wing chair, antique furnishings, a patchwork quilt and the most comfortable bed I’ve ever slept in, with an egg-crate mattress, feather pillows and down comforter.

After a leisurely afternoon of walking about the town and along the paths and trails on the inn’s property that lead up to the old Washington Mine on bordering public land, I joined Craig and Melanie for dinner. The inn takes on a special elegance in the evening; the baby grand player
piano fills the room with music, subdued lighting casts rich and golden hues and sophisticated aromas waft from the dining room.

A choice of four dinner entrees includes chicken stuffed with a savory mix of spinach, prosciutto and Gruyere; pork tenderloin; seasonal roasted vegetables and, my choice, beef tenderloin garnished with a red wine and herb reduction sauce. It is superb.

I closed out the meal with the inn’s delicious signature dish of bread pudding served with a fresh lemon sauce. Craig and Melanie know from experience that their guests will have
enjoyed apple pie earlier in the day.

The next morning I tackled the inn’s robust breakfast, also served in the Julian Room. In addition to a full buffet of breads and rolls, yogurts, granola and fruit, I enjoyed richly stuffed pecan-baked French toast. Prudence then dictated that I pass on the apple pie that day!

Craig says the inn’s guests, mostly couples enjoying romantic getaways, come from all over the United States. And while the inn offers no shortage of outing ideas for them to see and do, from carriage rides, to wine tasting at nearby Menghini Winery, horseback riding, goldmine tours and desert trekking down in Anza Borrego, Craig says that most guests discover the biggest thrill is surprisingly to do nothing. “It’s called r-e-l-a-x,” he says. Many guests spend much of their time on the inn’s grounds, where more than 2,000 drought-
resistant plants indigenous to Julian, including California black oak, western cottonwood, California
wild lilac, and mountain mahogany flourish on the property. I made myself at home in a hammock
under a black oak and whiled away the afternoon hours. There are also apple, pear and cherry trees on-site which guests may pick from when the fruits are ripe.

Once guests discover the art of relaxation, Craig says, they often return, again and again.

“Some of our guests request the same suite for each visit. It’s like their home-away-from-home. And then we have couples who want to stay in a different room on each visit.”

After dinner, I wandered outside to sit on a picnic table in the meadow, looking up at a sky filled with stars one doesn’t often see from Coronado. There it was — the Milky Way, a sight I hadn’t seen for some years.
And, like Julian, it’s still there, waiting for all Coronadans to view.


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Reprinted with permission from Coronado Lifestyle, "the little magazine with the BIG impact."
For advertising or out-of-town subscriptions, call Kris Grant, publisher/editor, at 619-522-0900.