Here comes the fog again, crawling over the desolate beach and the rolling hills, up against the Tudor-style walls of the Pelican Inn, just north of San Francisco. There's nothing to do but sit in the wee pub, sip a draft of cider or mead, throw some darts. Nothing to do but light a fire in the Snug, the sitting room reserved for guests, and cozy up with Middlemarch. Nothing to do but head up to one of the seven bedchambers, unfasten the Shakespearean latch, duck under the medievally low doorframe, draw the tapestry curtains, climb onto the waist-high canopy bed, and decipher the initials carved into the ceiling beam. And if things aren't just so—say, the restaurant's country fare isn't quite up to snuff—there's nothing to do but lie back and, well, think of England.
Pelican Inn, 10 Pacific Way, Muir Beach, Calif.; 415/383-6000, fax 415/383-3424; doubles from $201, including breakfast.
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