Roll The Bones: Ojai

In 1948, for example, Dada artist Beatrice Wood opened a pottery studio and taught ceramics until the age of 104, and seeing how the city is less than two hours from Hollywood, Ojai became an escape for movie stars like Charlie Chaplin and Greta Garbo. Even now, Ojai appeals to A-list actors, including Donald Glover and Jason Segel, who both own homes in Ojai orange groves.

I first visited Ojai on a motorcycle ride through the mountains on the idyllic California State Route 33, which has over 1,500 meters of elevation change and is adored for its clean, sharp, diving corners that climb over peaks and down through valleys, every turn peeling back your eyelids. For hours I went back and forth, up and down the road, grinding away bits of my footpegs, and just after sunset I rode into town to find a room for the night.

An illuminated vacancy sign in the window of a recently renovated roadside mid-century motel from the 1950s called “Ojai Rancho Inn” drew me in, and the woman at the front desk handed me a wooden stick of palo santo and advised me to burn it in my room to “set the vibe.” When I walked through the door of my ground-level room and saw a big jacuzzi tub right next to my bed, I understood what she meant, and after soaking my aching bones, I fell in love with the place.

After that night, Ojai became my go-to escape, and I indulged my want for the place as often as possible, soon establishing a well-oiled set of rituals for release and relaxation. My late-night bedroom soaks became far more pleasant once I started bringing in two dozen tea candles to burn, a spliff to smoke, and some old vinyl records to fade away with. 

My mornings started at a pottery studio just outside of downtown, where I threw clay on wheels and listened to the locals gossip, and my afternoons wandered through Bart’s Books, which claims to be the largest independently owned bookstore in the world, has an incredibly diverse collection, and has outdoor bookshelves that you can peruse at any hour of the day; if you want to buy a book after hours, you follow the honour system and pay for it by squeezing your money into a little box near the front door.

It has been only a few weeks since I last visited Ojai and stayed in my jacuzzi room, made my clay pots, and thumbed through the pages of well-loved books and I am happy to say the “Valley of the Moon” is as lovely and as charming as always.

The mountain roads are still challenging and fun, the stores are still quaint and funky, the food is still savoury and sweet, and the people are still as adorable as can be, but this time something felt off for me. The purpose of Ojai was to escape from hard times and feeling lost, but fortunately now I feel healed, relaxed, and centered by being at home with my family. 

Ojai hasn’t changed but I have, and because of it my relationship with the small, quirky “Valley of the Moon” is changing, too. What does that mean for me and Ojai? I don’t know, and I probably won’t know until I go back to Ojai, find some peace, and figure it out, because no matter what, Ojai will always be my home away from home.