One of the things about growing up in Tiburon, there always seemed to be a lot of wind coming off the water. That’s what makes the waters between Tiburon and San Francisco one of the best places in the world for wind water sports. The wind was a huge part of my childhood, not so much because of the water sports, but because of the sounds and sensations it created as it passed through the pine trees on Tanfield Rd.
I remember walking home on windy, foggy, and cold nights, skateboard in hand, going up Tanfield’s tree lined private road. Moisture from the fog passing through the trees would get so thick it would come raining off the trees, whereas most of the rest of the Tiburon streets were dry. The sound the wind created was magical, and if you closed your eyes, the clashing of the pine needles and branches the same as the ocean, or a freeway, because roars of an ocean and freeways can sound very similar.
When I bought my first condo near a freeway there were some eucalyptus trees at the top of a hill above the development, several hundred meters away. I remember thinking, you can hear the trees, just like where I grew up! I was mistaken though, and later realized that ubiquitous sound was not the trees, it was just the freeway.
Back in the 1970s, those pine trees were lush and outstanding for climbing, or hiding. These days most have had their lower branches removed, but back then I used to imagine there was ‘the evil paperboy’ who hid unseen, crouching among the low branches, just waiting to pounce a kid like me! As Tanfield never has had street lights, nights were typically pitch black along the fog slicked road, and with the wind roaring through the trees and I was genuinely terrified as an adolescent walking back home alone. It was not unusual for me to break into a sprint all the way until I got to my driveway. In time I gained control of my fear and resisted the urge to sprint home. Those walks, and runs, among the Tanfield trees helped me to face my greatest innermost fear: the evil paperboy! All jokes aside, those experiences have truly helped me face much greater and more real fears in my life, such as surfing in shark-infested waters during peak great white season.
The pine trees also created borders between all the homes on the cul-de-sac. It was among those trees where I refined my chipping technique. My brothers and I would often chip golf balls through the trees and make our own mini golf course. Being impetuous adolescents, we would also launch drives as far down the hill as we could, trying not to slice the golf balls into the trees. As we got older, a few times we may have hit the roof of the Leitzs’ house a couple hundred yards down the hill from us, which was blocked by the trees between us. If we heard the smack of the roof shingles, we knew we’d hit our mark. That didn’t last long. Jamie Leitz was a very good friend of mine, and he was considerably stronger than me. I didn’t want him or his older brother Todd realizing we were bombarding their house and giving me the beating I richly deserved.
Whenever I return to Tanfield Road I always listen for the wind in the trees, which revives so many good memories. There’s no place like home.