Awoke to a most grizzly morning with the familiar driving rain and punishing wind. It looked like a good day to hunker down if it was going to last the day, so I settled in for a read, some writing and lounging. True to the forecast from the good people at The Weather Network, it settled down around 11:00. Thereupon I packed my bags and headed for San Francisco for the day.
The Ocean View Hotel. A very comfortable port in another storm. Note the wet, shrinkwrapped machine in the parking lot.
Sunny and warm it was! A delightful time was had by man and machine as we toured the traditional points of interest: Fishermans’ Wharf, Lombard Street (we talked about it, but elected instead to take a picture rather than a reckless risk), China Town, and the cable car route along Powell Street. It was fun leaning back and motoring up those fabulously steep hills. City landscapes of San Francisco are like no other. There is a kind of romance in this place recognized by anyone who has ever been here.
I also thought it might be interesting to visit Haight Ashbury. Guided by my trusty little GPS we zigzagged an unconventional route and arrived at the hippy epicentre of the 1960’s. Now, two generations later , it seems like very effort has been made by shopkeepers and streetgoers alike to keep that old flavour alive. I suspect the motivation is partly cultural, partly historical, but largely commercial. Garish and trip-inspired artwork, smoke shops, Tibetan Earth Stores… and on it goes. The residents were in full costume, right down to the beads and tie-dyed teeshirts.
Can you read the street sign?
Nearby Golden Gate Park is the haven for hordes of the young and the restless. Dressed in rags and lounging in the grass they all look like they have given up already. I was on the verge of forming a disapproving thought about their drop-out lifestyle when something occurred to me. I visited this place today because it was kind of iconic for my generation, representing a time and a place that defined us in some way. I reckon that the disheveled young reprobates that squatted in the park in 1968 looked pretty much like these kids, and those of my current age cast the same sort of dismissal as I was inclined to do today.
But make no mistake—they are disheveled reprobates and they should clean themselves up and get a job!
How far we’ve come. *sigh*
It was an enjoyable ride back down Hwy 1 to my digs for the night. The views were lovely, the sun warm on my face. I checked in at the Pt. Montara hostel and settled myself in. It looks like I will be the lone occupant of my dormitory room for four. The place is otherwise teaming with girl guides, excited and characteristically high pitched. But we have a lot to learn from young people who have such enthusiasm for life. Pity that we can be inclined to lose that.
Pt. Montara is a lighthouse. It is also the site of a very cool and friendly hostel in a setting that is the stuff of postcard collections. I sat on the edge of the cliff for about an hour to drink it in. A low sun in a clear sky lit up the violent surf that exploded on the rocky shores. Neighbouring storms have prompted surf warnings all along the coast, and that makes for some sensational shore action!
At 8:30 we all gathered in the meeting room to observe Earth Hour. Janice, our proprietor, did a nice job talking to the kids about ways that they can act responsibly in this world—and for the management of the problems they have inherited from us.
Hardly seems fair does it?
Sorry, kids.
