Looking for Fall In Lake Arrowhead

In Southern California, fall doesn’t arrive in a flurry of autumn leaves and chilly temperatures. The seasonal shift is more subtle. It comes in little things, like street corner pumpkin patches and empty parking spaces at the beach. In the land of perpetual sunshine, you could miss the season altogether if you don’t pay attention. Around here, if you want to find fall, you have to look for it.

September may have gone out like a blast furnace, but relief can be found in the local mountains. High in the San Bernardino National Forest, Lake Arrowhead is dressed and ready for fall. It takes only a ninety minute drive to go from palms to pines and to find blue skies above the haze. There you’ll be greeted by an alpine village on the shores of Lake Arrowhead where the leaves are turning golden and fall celebrations are in full swing.

All this month, Lake Arrowhead Village is celebrating the season with activities for the whole family to enjoy. Oktoberfest runs from October 2^{nd -} 30^th, with Bavarian music and authentic German food every weekend. You can also sample local microbrews at the first annual Lake Arrowhead Brew Fest on October 16th. Kids of all ages can pick their own pumpkin at Jack’s Pumpkin Patch. Even dogs can get a taste of fall, with homemade pumpkin dog biscuits available at Three Dog Bakery. Just be sure to stop at Jensen’s Fine Foods in Blue Jay on your way home to pick up a fresh apple pie for dessert.

If you’re dreaming of amber colored leaves, bratwurst and apple cider, Lake Arrowhead is ready to satisfy your autumn craving. After spending an afternoon with the sweet aromas of cinnamon and sauerkraut, listening to bearded men in lederhosen playing “The Chicken Dance,” you’ll know that you’ve found fall after all, even if it’s only for a day.

IF YOU GO:

Getting There: From Orange County, take 91 Freeway east to Riverside. Follow Fwy. 215 North (toward San Bernardino, Victorville, Barstow, Las Vegas). From right lanes, exit onto Hwy. 210 East. Exit Waterman Avenue. At top of off ramp, turn left onto Waterman Avenue (North, toward mountains). Proceed approximately 20 miles North on Waterman Avenue (which becomes Hwy. 18, as you begin your climb up the mountain).Shortly after passing the turn-off for Crest Park, you'll reach the intersection of Highway 18 and Highway 173 (the turn-off for Lake Arrowhead). Turn left onto highway 173 (toward Lake Arrowhead) and proceed approximately 2 miles.

Listen to the Music at the Lake Arrowhead Village Oktoberfest. October 2^nd-30^th, every Saturday and Sunday, 12pm-4pm. Admission is free. www.LakeArrowheadVillage.com

Sample Microbrews at the First Annual Lake Arrowhead Brewfest, Saturday October 16^th at the Lake Arrowhead Resort and Spa. Event begins at 1pm. Admission is $25. Call (909)337-3715 for more information. www.Lakearrowhead.net

Pick your Future Jack-O-Lantern at Jack’s Pumpkin Patch. Opens October 9^th. Friday-Saturday 10am-8pm, Weekdays 10am -6pm.

Enjoy Lakeside Dining at Woody’s Boat House, Lake Arrowhead Village (909) 337-2628. Sit at a teakwood table and watch the speedboats go by. Try the Oktoberfest Special : German Sausage sandwich with warm potato salad and homemade applesauce.

Don’t Forget Dessert from Jensen’s Fine Foods in Blue Jay, 27264 HWY 189, (909) 337-8484. The Old Country Bakery makes fresh apple and pumpkin pies daily.

Departure Time

This is all my father's fault.

He was the one who piled all of us into the Country Squire station wagon and hit the highway every summer. It was his agenda of KOA campgrounds, his schedule of perfectly timed roadside table stops, his dream of leading our family into the great outdoors. Oh sure, my mother was a willing accomplice, but the force behind the steering wheel was always my Dad.

Even though he lived most of his life within a 30 mile radius of his birthplace in Chicago, my Dad had the travel bug. He was a school teacher and eventually a principal, so we had long stretches of summer vacation to fill. Money was tight and, in order to travel for weeks at a time, we needed to be creatively frugal. Many of our meals were picnic affairs, served on the tailgate of the car. Our accommodations followed us wherever we went in the form of our pop-up Apache trailer. It was spartan and simple, and it was glorious.

Dad was a history teacher and it was his mission to educate his five children on the historical significance of every stop along the road. We visited sod houses and cemeteries and what seemed like every civil war battlefield from Illinois to Florida. We stopped at every monument and read every historic marker. And even though we would groan and complain from the backseat, I learned a lot from those summer trips. I saw for myself why the Great Smokey Mountains got their name. I tasted sweet Georgia peaches and freshly squeezed Florida orange juice. And I know the difference between a stalactite and a stalagmite. Important stuff like that.

My father was a wonderful storyteller. He didn't just recite dusty names and ancient dates, he made history come alive. When he showed us the spot where Indian scouts were perched on a rock while military regiments passed in the valley below, we could almost see it. Suddenly, we weren't looking at an empty, boring field anymore. We could imagine history happening right in front of us.

I am my father's daughter.

Now, when I find myself craving a day of adventure, or when I drag my own family into an old Mission church or some roadside mystery spot, I know why. Every compulsion to learn of the past, to visit places where something important happened, and to share what I've just experienced, comes from him.

I blame it on my Dad.