There are places in life that hold our hearts, places that when we return we find ourselves, the part we left. We pick right up, the remembering, the joy we felt while we were there and remember also the tears we shed. The pieces of our heart are still there. This is such a place, this camp in the hills of Santa Barbara, California. My journey in this area began long ago before I knew about this turn on Stagecoach Rd. It began when I was 10 and watching my stepfather Bill, an ironworker put in the last connection to the bridge that would bring the people from Santa Barbara over the valley and onto the road to Santa Ynez. They would bypass this spot unless they were looking. We were looking and we found this place, this place holds many memories for our family. I started working in the kitchen in 1991, both my sons worked summers here and swam, dived and explored all the trails here. Bing and I moved here in 1996 to work full time and became part of a family, the Ryan'...