Siteline | The Ferrelo-Garcia Loop

Nearly every time I finish one of these walks, I announce to my husband, Adam, that it was one of the most satisfying walks ever—and this one was no different, except that he came along. We parked on De La Guerra Street, near Alisos, because I forgot that I had meant to park on Canon Perdido so we could focus on the hillside.

Also, I had already done a whole walk on E. Canon Perdido. I can’t bear to go back and read that post, but I don’t recall noticing these mailboxes positioned for easy access as you ascend the stairs.

Tucked into the corner of Canon Perdido and Carrillo Road (the latter’s suffix changes east of Milpas) is 976 E. Carrillo Road, a cool 1959 house that we’ll come back to later.

And then we headed up East Street, wondering all the while why the street is so wide in an area where extra space is rare.

My first big OMG moment was on Medio Road, east of East Street. An oak—an oak!—has been trimmed to serve as a hedge that extends over the driveway.

Speaking of hedges, this one is a beaut. And it looks like a dog’s head.

Later, when I was back home and going through my photos, I couldn’t remember why I took this one. And I still don’t know. But when I zoomed in, I noticed a little sculpture staring at me.

We explored the length of Medio Road, all the way to Garcia Road. The first house below is adorable—note the front door with a view. And there’s a broad swath of landscaping that I think is part of 911 Medio Road. When you look on Google Maps satellite view (“Map data ©2024”), however, it’s practically bare.

We turned around at 946 Garcia Road, which we’ll revisit later, too.

On Ferrelo Road, there’s little room for error should a car come by—we didn’t see many—but at least you get pretty stone fences.

I don’t know that I’ve ever spotted a chimney with a door in it. Cover the left side of the house with your hand and you’ll see a face with an erect schnoz.

Ferrelo has three offshoots, the first of which is Paseo Ferrelo. On the map, the western stub looks like a normal street, so we were confused by the “do not enter” sign at the start. The stub is actually U-shaped and one-way; you enter from the upper leg. If that’s not a great example of Santa Barbara quirk, I don’t know what is.

At the end is a cool contemporary house with a junction of old and new walls outside, along with a mysterious little cairn (to hide some ugly bit of infrastructure?). The listing photos from when the house sold in 2015 are worth the click.

Every steep driveway is an opportunity for Adam to jokingly wonder aloud what they do when it snows.

Paseo Ferrelo, with its terrific mix of houses, is now one of my favorite streets. Unfortunately, utility lines tend to mar the views.

But farther up Ferrelo Road, the view is unobstructed.

Ferrelo Place is a cul-de-sac with just seven houses; from a distance, the ones at the end look like they’ve sunk into the earth (not literally).

Back on Ferrelo Road, we stopped for a moment to wonder about who lives here. If the antenna isn’t enough to discourage anyone from getting too close, there are also the signs on the gate: the ones that aren’t in English read “abandon all hope, ye who enter” and “no entry.” I love Google Translate!

Any guesses on this person’s favorite color?

I think this is a ham radio call sign, but feel free to enlighten me.

The little bull is a nice touch.

We were definitely intrigued by the funky curb appeal of 1299 Ferrelo Road. And that goes double now that I’ve seen an old listing refer to the 1984 house as both “a work of art” and “a piece of sculpture.”

Meanwhile, the modern one across the street illustrates how stacked the houses are on the hillside. It has insane views.

The last spur off Ferrelo Road is Rubio Road, where highlights included a wooden sculpture (?), a bucolic hiding spot for garbage cans, a homemade birdhouse, a petite garage that feels like it has been around for a hundred years, and free (?) lemons,

Adam scored points for noticing the clock hanging from a tree, but I trumped him with a pug vanity plate.

Ferrelo Road ends at Garcia Road, which extends up to Alameda Padre Serra. On the way to APS, we marveled at how narrow garages used to be and how, um, vintage certain garage doors still are.

Cute weathervane!

And a handsome driveway. We came across a surprising number of open garage doors.

Adam waited for me to walk all the way up to APS; I’m a completist when it comes to these walks. This Mutt-and-Jeff pair of mailboxes was an opportunity for a breather.

Finally, we got to head down Garcia Road. I’ve mentioned before that I don’t like having a Pod full of stuff in Oxnard, but it sure beats this alternative.

Garcia has a lot of neat houses. I’ve always been partial to a pink house, and the green one (with a red door) was a zesty surprise.

We thought this might be a path leading somewhere interesting, but on Google Maps, it looks like it peters out.

I was mystified by this sculpture, until Adam explained that it’s of sailboats on water. He’s a certified sailor, he’d like you to know.

Where does one even use a golf cart—let alone three—around here?

And the Best Mailbox award goes to…. It made me think of the famous scene from Roman Holiday.

Here’s another funny little face. I’ve never seen windows in a garage door like that.

As promised, we returned to 946 Garcia Road. According to Redfin, when the 1931 house last sold in 1996—for $455,000—it had three bedrooms and one and a half baths. Here’s hoping the residents can admire the views while they wait their turn. Same goes at 941 Garcia Road, the 1923 beauty across the street, which Zillow says has four bedrooms and one and a half baths.

I hadn’t even heard of itty-bitty San Diego Road until we encountered it. Besides some intriguing shrubbery, there’s a Little Free Library (the poop bags are a hopeful touch); a relatively huge, 1.3-acre lot at the end (home to a 1918 house I’d like to get a look at); and a long driveway to a 1922 house up the hill (that apparently would look back at me).

I’ll say it again: the architectural mix of Santa Barbara is as much a part of what makes the city so delightful as all the Spanish-ish buildings.

On N. Milpas Street, I was tempted to open this treasure chest, but I didn’t—Pandora’s box and all that.

I was tempted to put away the phone and end the blogging part of the walk, but on E. Carrillo Road, the delights kept coming—like a mid-trim hedge, an amusing spare-tire cover, and a stunning stone pine.

The houses were pretty great, too. Look at that stone arch!

As also promised, here’s a better look at 976 E. Carrillo Road, “designed by Louis Mazzetti and built in 1959 by and for the home’s only owner (a master stone craftsman),” according to the listing when it sold in 2019 for $1.605 million. The cinder-block vibe visible of the facade continued into some of the rooms, at least back then.

Perhaps the apartment complex at 970 E. Carrillo Road was meant as an homage.

Finally, the homestretch: N. Alisos Street, home to another fan of orange, some fabulous mailboxes, and my favorite, a trompe l’oeil mural of a house painter. Is he meant to be headless? Or simply unfinished?