NAKOMA: FRANK LLOYD WRIGHT'S PROMISE

It’s no secret that Jimmy loves Frank Lloyd Wright designs; after all, he is an architect by profession. We drove a thousand miles last summer simply to see FLW’s Fallingwater.

In all honesty, FLW’s defining accomplishment was worth the two days of driving.  The cantilevered house appeared cleaved from the same majestic rock and powerful falls that had originally drawn the Kaufmann family to these Pennsylvania hills, and to the architect who was a master at melding form and function, shelter and surroundings. 
      
I think even I could be convinced to give up travel given his magnificent window on the ever-changing world of this wooded wonder. 

Alas, my room with a view is still just a dream; which is why just last week Jimmy and I, along with Jim’s son Steve, found ourselves in pursuit of yet another FLW masterpiece, this one just an hour’s drive from Reno in California’s Sierra Nevada mountains.  

Just a hint of the majestic in yet another FLW design.

Our week in Reno may have been designed around helping Steve remodel his kitchen, but Jimmy and I are wise enough (as in years and years and years of experience) to know that all work and no play makes for a grouchy architect/construction manager (and girl Friday).      

After a yummy breakfast just steps from Steve’s midtown fixer-upper (remember, Steve had no kitchen in which to replicate these decadent crepes),

Strawberries and Creme crepes from The Creme just across the street.

we headed north from Reno via US-395, then west on CA-70 toward Portola, California as the open road and FLW’s Nakoma beckoned.  

I'm always amazed at the pioneer spirit of our ancestors when confronted with the Wild West.

Nestled among the Ponderosa and Jeffrey Pine in the High Sierras of California’s Plumas County, FLW’s Nakoma (Nakoma means "I do as I promise" in Chippewa) is a stunning architectural tribute to American Indians.  

That tribute was originally destined to be a clubhouse in Madison, Wisconsin over three-quarters of a century ago, but that's another story.  Suffice it to say, California natives Dariel and Peggy Garner fell in love with FLW's Nakoma plans, dusted them off, and proceeded with their retirement dreams in 1994 on a 1,280-acre parcel of land that they turned into a residential community called Gold Mountain, complete with a resort, spa, clubhouse and an 18-hole golf course called "The Dragon".   

Seven years and $15 million later, Nakoma Resort and Spa opened.

The heart of the Nakoma Resort and Spa just outside the tiny town of Graeagle (population was 737 at the 2010 census) was FLW’s stunning “Wigwam Room.”

Huge beams of Canadian Douglas fir were imported for the 70-foot high ceiling.

The sixty-five-foot tall fireplace, with a hearth on all four sides, lent a campfire feel to the octagonal-shaped dining room, which just happened to be tucked inside what looked to be the biggest wigwam I’d ever seen.  Okay, my wigwam experience is rather limited.  This was the room Jimmy had set his sights on when he’d made reservations for lunch at noon.

Truckloads of Tepeaca stone (120 in all) from Mexico were used to construct the fireplace and floors.

Things looked rather quiet in the “wigwam” (as in the tables were all set, but no one was dining) with lunch thirty minutes away.   Not a good sign. 

I decided to wander the premises, my curiosity at the moment greater than my appetite. FLW’s signature design elements were everywhere.  

The octagon factored favorably in FLW furniture, too.

Even upholstery reflected FLW's favorite shapes.

I found four of the five teepee-like spires that are part of Nakoma’s design.  

Shall we get to the point!

Outside view of the "Wigwam Room."

I hope those spires are grounded; lighting strikes are undoubtedly a problem 5,000 feet up.

I found plenty of spires of the piney nature, too, hugging the hillsides and the award-winning golf course.

The view alone makes me want to take up golf.

I'm really yearning for that room with a view.

With public green fees starting at $90, and holes bearing names like “Tale of the Dragon,” “Defiance,” “Teeth of the Dragon,” and “Dragon’s Fire,” an afternoon spent slaying the “Dragon” was out of the question.  Besides, golf has never been our thing.

Food, on the other hand, was becoming something I could sink my teeth into. The rest of the family had arrived (Rachel, Jim’s daughter, and her husband Brian had come up from Lake Tahoe to join us after a long weekend with friends over the 4th); our table was waiting.   

Steve had a tough time whittling down his appetite to one entree given all the wonderful choices.

We had to settle on a table outside (apparently dining in the Wigwam Room was restricted to evenings only), where the view was as tantalizing as the food.  

Maybe it was the altitude, but the beautiful view left me feeling lightheaded.

Next time, it’s dinner reservations, a night in one of the little Villas, some spa action, and some action of our very own.

I made Jim promise, if we’re going to do Frank Lloyd Wright, let’s really do it RIGHT!