Settle in and rest awhile. Hike the famous Pacific Crest Trail that runs the rim of these mountains as piñon jays and ravens swoop down by day and a million stars emerge each night. When the winds die down you might just hear an old country fiddle playing from a deck in town or the steel twang of a neighbor’s ’55 Fender bass guitar serenading you from far across the canyon.

​

Days are like that here. Time slows down. Summers are warm and nights most often long and cool. By-and-by, some fine dark clouds might roll in and fill the expanse of this grand cavernous valley with mist, rain or its seasonal blanket of snow.

​

And always, reliably true, Highcastle's big old rock fireplace will burn bright as you remember those whispered rumors of long-ago residents and guests, and imagine all them legendary Hollywood folk out on the deck hootin’ it up.