An English country girl in California: English corners of Californian fields

Tucked away in a fold of Marin County, close to Muir Beach, is a tiny piece of England. Looking for all the world as if it had been plucked complete from West Sussex and dropped into northern California, the Pelican Inn is a perfect English pub. Reached down narrow roads that wind through rolling hills, currently blissfully green after a much-needed recent rain, the creaking sign beckons drivers off Highway 1 and in through the inn’s heavy wooden door. White painted and surrounded by an inviting lawn, full of people lazing in the early spring sunshine, the Pelican is just as authentic inside, with hunting prints, antique furniture and a huge fireplace that must be bliss to curl up beside when the August fog shrouds the coast. My feeling that I had stumbled into Sussex without the bother of a 10-hour flight was increased when I spotted a print of a Spitfire above what looked like Tangmere airfield, which lies not far from my godmother’s home outside Chichester. Even the menu is authentic, with a ploughman’s lunch, bangers-and-mash and fish-and-chips, plus proper English ales on tap.

The Pelican Inn, a glimpse of southern England in northern California

Sir Francis Drake would have been delighted to find such a hostelry when he landed nearby in 1579. Sadly for him, there was nothing but steep valleys and towering redwoods on a seemingly uninhabited coast when he careened his ship in one of the many bays (several now claim to be the one he chose). No doubt, however, he would have been gratified to know that his sojourn here was commemorated 400 years later by the building of an inn named after his ship. Later renamed the Golden Hinde, she was then called the Pelican – an eminently suitable name, oddly enough, as the name of the infamous prison island Alcatraz means Island of Pelicans in Spanish, after the thriving colony of brown pelicans that lived there when Spanish explorer Juan Manuel de Ayala charted the Bay in 1775, two centuries after the English sailor landed. Sir Francis himself never discovered the Bay of San Francisco, despite passing within a mile of the Golden Gate – no doubt, the fog was hiding its secret well.

Feeling at home

There was slightly more batter than fish, but it was still jolly good,

especially washed down with a pint of Irish cider

Astonishingly, the Pelican, despite its 16^th-century appearance and wealth of genuine period furniture and fittings inside, was actually only opened in 1979. Englishman Charles Felix, a native of Bath, fought for eight years for planning consent before he could start work on his dream to build the kind of comfortable country pub his family had run for years. He started from scratch, importing prints and furniture, but employing local craftsmen and materials to do the actual building. Eventually, he created something that appears positively ancient in a land where anything over 50 years old is worthy of an archaeological dig. Now, the Pelican is run by Romantic Places, whose collection includes Culloden House in Scotland, and is enormously popular with both San Franciscans and tourists visiting nearby Muir Woods.

The magnificent redwoods of Muir Woods

Tulips and flowering wisteria formed the backdrop to my next English-flavoured encounter. A friend and former colleague, Jeremy Musson, one-time architectural editor of Country Life, author of numerous books on country houses and presenter of BBC2's much-missed The Curious House Guest, was paying a brief visit to California on a lecture tour with the Royal Oak, the American partner of England's National Trust. The setting for his excellent talk 'From Fish to Fowl: Sporting Life at the English Country House' was Filoli, about 30 miles south of San Francisco in the wooded hills of the Peninsula. Built by Mr and Mrs William Bowers Bourn, the unusual name of this secluded country house is taken from the first letters of Bourn's motto: 'Fight for a just cause. Love your fellow man. Live a good life.'

Me and Jeremy Musson, one of England's pre-eminent architectural historians

The main entrance of Filoli

Now one of the 29 sites under the aegis of the American non-profit National Trust for Historic Preservation, Filoli was designed by Willis Polk in 1915-17. The architect, one of the Bay area's most eminent professionals, had also built the Bourns' house in San Francisco and the property at their gold mine in Grass Valley, from whence came their wealth and status. Filoli is in the 'Californian eclectic style', an amalgamation of styles that come together in something similar to an English Georgian rectory, built in brick, with a Classical stone portico and wings flanking a gravel courtyard. The interiors are elegantly apportioned, with a collection of art and antiques that includes a rug from Queen Victoria's Osborne House on the Isle of Wight, but its real attraction is the gardens.

Looking towards the south wing across a sunken garden ablaze with tulips

Spring was bustin' out all over at Filoli!

By all accounts, we were seeing the gardens at their best, with the recent rain enticing every petal to bloom and bask in the warm sunshine. Tulips of every shade, from vivid orange to palest yellow and deep red, filled the beds, their bright colours set off by neatly clipped yew hedges. Waterfalls of blossom dripped from every tree, mown lawns begged for a game of croquet to begin and archways led to yet more delights. The Bourns both had English ancestry and their taste was for the English formal style, blending formal pools and parterres into a landscape that, with the nearby Crystal Springs Lake and steep hills of Spring Valley, reminded them of Ireland. Frequent travellers to Europe, the Bourns' daughter Maud met Arthur Rose Vincent of Co Clare, Ireland, on board ship, and they subsequently married. The Bourns bought Muckross House and 11,000 acres around the Lakes of Killarney, Co Kerry, for the young couple in 1910, and the whole family loved spending time in Ireland. As a permanent reminder of the Emerald Isle, the delicate murals in the ballroom show the wild hills of Kerry. Touchingly, they were painted after a stroke meant that William Bourn would never be able to travel again, so the family brought the Irish views to him.

The ballroom, adorned with paintings of Irish hills

Looking towards the swimming pool, a slightly incongrous turquoise

The design of the gardens was, I was pleased to hear, influenced by the Bourns' perusal of Country Life magazine and the incomparable photographs of houses and gardens across Britain (a browse of the Country Life Picture Library, which has numerous prints for sale, is always worthwhile). The couple was closely involved with the design, alongside notable Bay area professionals such as artist Bruce Porter, floral designer Isabella Worn and architects Polk and Arthur Brown Jr, and they would have been thrilled to know that Country Life featured the gardens in the April 3, 2013, edition of the magazine. Incorporating elements of Renaissance and Georgian design, the garden weaves together a rose garden, sunken garden, yew walks, bowling green, kitchen garden and orchards in beguiling patterns that delights the wanderer with a new view at every turn. The Filoli website gives a detailed account of the history and design of the garden, which reveals the reason for the only ugly element - a metal perimeter fence to guard against the depredations of deer. Many of the plants in the original plans, such as yew, boxwood and wisteria, are deer-resistant, testament to the herds that roam wild nearby. Now, a militaristic chain-link monstrosity borders the garden, which, although allowing views of the meadows beyond, is definitely not what one would find in the English country-house gardens the Bourns loved so much. Perhaps it could be replaced with a post-and-rail or wrought-iron fence?

One of the many vistas down a yew allée

A riot of colour

Vivid orange tulips flank the path into the garden from the house

But this is to quibble - Filoli is a sumptuous place to spend the day, especially as the cafe serves delicious lunches and the most divine chocolate cakes. The gardens are a feast for the eyes, and, especially for an English visitor, the house is a beguiling blend of historic styles and 20th-century convenience. I couldn't help worrying that noises from the butler's pantry and kitchen, which are divided from the dining room by only a swing door, would have been uncomfortably intrusive during a formal dinner, but I'm sure the servants appreciated the short walk. Below-stairs kitchen quarters were not a tradition continued at Filoli!

Me amid the blossom

A perfect place for lunch

My week finished in true English style, with afternoon tea at Lovejoy’s in Noe Valley. Named after the much-loved antique dealer played by Ian McShane in the television adaptation of Jonathan Gash’s books, it began as an actual antique shop that served tea as a sideline. However, the idea of a decent cup of tea became so popular that the proper tea room was born, and now it is frequently packed with people enjoying the eclectic mix of china and British-esque ornaments. The obligatory Keep Calm and Carry On poster hangs next to a red telephone box, but this place goes beyond the cliché to be comfortable, quirky and endearingly familiar. The tea is real tea, the crumpets are crumpets and the scones are scones, with not an ‘English muffin’ to be seen. (The latter is a doughy blob that bears not the slightest resemblance to anything served in England, yet is very popular on this side of the pond.) We plumped for smoked-salmon and pear-and-Stilton sandwiches from the extensive list – delicious – and my strawberry jam was perfect. Admittedly, the clotted cream wasn’t quite thick or creamy enough, but it was an excellent effort nonetheless. I do love America, but it is lovely to have a week of Englishness every now and again!