Imagine 1,500 square miles of green countryside. Everywhere you turn there are beautiful hills with oaks trees sheltering sleek black two-lane roads. The temperature is perfect, and the agricultural land is primarily given over to vineyards. What traffic there is generally sticks to the major arteries, and the remaining roads – the really cool ones – are deserted. There is 75 miles of coastline that resembles Cornwall, or south-western Ireland, and immediately to the east of the beaches are tumbling mountains dotted with sequoias. If you happen to find yourself in these hills, astride your horse, you’ll be utterly spoilt for choice: smooth pavement winds through the mountains, dipping into foggy canyons and climbing over toothy peaks. You get to know your shifters better on these roads than anywhere you’ve ever ridden before. Some of the climbs, like Annapolis Road and Skaggs Springs, seem to go on forever, switching in and out of the trees. The descents are terrifying. You can ride for hours and not get very far on the map, but your legs will feel like they’ve been through the grinder. This is what Sonoma offers. I haven’t ridden the whole county, nor have I ridden the whole state by comparison, but what I have seen puts any other riding to shame. If I could convince my family, I’d move there in a heartbeat.