Berkeley, California Without The Tie-Dye

For many, the city of Berkeley evokes images of bedraggled Deadheads reminiscing about the 1960s or, more recently, dazed and confused college kids decrying various injustices.

While aging hippies and cause-driven UC Berkeley students do make up a good percentage of the residents (spawning many a gluten-free baked good), the area has also always been home to an entirely different population, as well—folks who might frequent the War Memorial Opera House, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art and lauded restaurants like Chez Panisse. People who, back in the day, might have mingled with the Hearsts and later danced to Big Band music. Dreamers who envisioned an Elizabethan castle high up in the Berkeley Hills, overlooking the Golden Gate Bridge.

In other words, there’s Telegraph Avenue—with its funky head shops, dispensaries and, yes, even brick-and-mortar music stores—and then there’s The Claremont Resort & Club .

Under various different monikers, The Claremont has been a destination for locals and travelers alike since 1915, first opening its doors during the Panama-Pacific International Exposition in San Francisco back when those types of events were the main attraction.

Of course, I didn’t get the memo until 110 years later.

This past fall, I came to stay at this grand white chateau hotel, dotted with palm trees, while I was in town for a book tour event for my new novel Backslide at quaint shop A Great Good Place for Books in nearby Oakland.

Immediately, I was smitten. There’s something about old world California glamour that has a particular romance to it—somehow at once grand and playful. And though this 22-acre resort has been re-envisioned and facelifted multiple times over the last century, the powers that be have managed to retain that sense of history.

My room, one of 276 including 35 suites, was bright and cheery with high ceilings and wide windows that overlooked the lush property and more bustling stretch of shops on College Avenue beyond, but also San Francisco Bay and the city’s skyline. The view—which can also be seen from the property’s award-winning Limewood Bar & Restaurant —was exquisite.

The beds were plush and white, and the bathroom felt updated but with a hint of characters from its original design. I even had a sweet desk at which I ached to sit and work—having been starved for time while traveling.

Unfortunately, I planned to be in and out, as I was scheduled to fly back to New York City the following morning. I had time to slip on a heavenly robe and experience a Therapeutic Relaxation Massage at the Spa —much-needed after so many plane and train rides—but then had to rush upstairs to get ready for my event.

The reading went off without a hitch, thanks to excellent moderation by local author  Meg Donohue —and I returned to my guest room ready to face plant into my comforter.

But, no. Instead, I discovered that my flight home had been canceled. I’d have to remain in town—and at the resort—for an entire extra day.

Is it terrible that I was a little bit thrilled? To be able to luxuriate in and explore this incredible property for one more day?

Let’s just say, I made the best of it.

In addition to being a hotel, the property boasts The Club at Claremont , a wellness and fitness destination open for resort guests, spa-goers and members. This is not your average ho-hum hotel gym situation. In fact, many of the attendees are regulars. There are three heated saltwater pools, eight tennis courts and four pickleball courts for clinics and private lessons. Their high-tech gym is known as “The FIT Yard,” and although they offer private training, that’s still only the tip of the iceberg with a Pilates and Kinesis studio, dance, weights and yoga classes like Cardio Flow, Total Body Sculpt and Aqua H.I.I.T, an In-Cycling  space and so much more.

So, I woke up. I opened my shades to take-in the incredible view. I went to the gym. I attended a Cardio Flow class that was different than any I’d ever experienced before. I wandered down to College Avenue a few sweet blocks away for a matcha latte from lovely café Baker & Commons and a perusal of Mrs. Dalloway’s Literary & Garden Arts book shop. I strolled back to the hotel. I took the elevator back upstairs. I ordered a fresh beet salad with seared salmon and French fries on the side from room service—it was delicious , by the way. And I sat at that sweet desk, and I worked without interruption—with the sunlight falling through the windows, until it was time to get dressed and be whisked away to Obelisco for an incredible Mexican dinner.

Throughout all the changes in plans, the resort staff was lovely, thoughtful, accommodating and patient—and, though home was calling, I looked back longingly as I walked out the doors.