San Francisco Walkabout 2003
4 Hours in San Francisco to burn whilst the band I am travelling with gets drunk in a bar.
What is a boy to do?
The venue for the night's gig was a place called Slim's, a it looked like a superb little venue; good sound, well run, good crowd. As soon as The Skeptix had soundchecked, I was ready for off. I couldn't persuade anyone to come with me, so I headed off for a little bit of solo sightseeing.
The map below shows my route march. The green arrows are 'Out' and the red, 'Back'. Just follow the red numbers for the detailed version, or watch the slideshow. If you're feeling reckless, do it all!
What is a boy to do?
The venue for the night's gig was a place called Slim's, a it looked like a superb little venue; good sound, well run, good crowd. As soon as The Skeptix had soundchecked, I was ready for off. I couldn't persuade anyone to come with me, so I headed off for a little bit of solo sightseeing.
The map below shows my route march. The green arrows are 'Out' and the red, 'Back'. Just follow the red numbers for the detailed version, or watch the slideshow. If you're feeling reckless, do it all!
 This map shows my route around San Francisco. |
1. Slim's
This is a service station type place on the corner of 11th and Mission.
A lovely example of the art deco stylings and so well maintained too. Beautiful. 2. Market and 11th
I caught the BART down to Powell, just so as I could go on a cable car. I was determined to do as much as I could in the time that I had.
The ticket machine here confused me as it only accepted $ coins, of which I had precisely none. No-one uses $ coins. But you can shove a $5 bill in this machine and it spits out five dollar coins. I liked this so I changed two bills! I used one coin to get me to Powell. 3. Powell St Station
The famous cable cars that you have often seen on TV, run from Powell St station, up the incredibly steep Powell St, to Nob Hill, then, they split. One runs along Hyde St, through Russian Hill, terminating at Beach St, near the Maritime Museum, Jack's Bar and The Cannery. The other runs along Mason St, finishing at Bay St, just a short stroll from Fisherman's Wharf.
What you don't get from seeing these things on TV is how bloody noisy and uncomfortable they are - metal wheels, metal tracks, pulled along by a metal chain in the road. There's practicality at work here, with comfort a distant second. Seriously, they are well hard on the arse cheeks but, it is an experience I would not have missed for the world. Because of the demand for the cable cars, you are squeezed in like sardines, there are people hanging on the sides and it is total madness, but great fun. |
4. Union Sq
The initial ride from Powell St station to Union Square is really quite gentle; no more than a slight incline, you could say.
Union Square is a central location and major meeting place for San Franciscans. Dominating it is the 97ft high Dewey Monument, erected in 1903, to commemorate the Spanish-American War, whilst all around are high end department stores and boutiques, for those with loads of disposable income to throw around.
It is also a bit of a folk-art center and boasts San Francisco's one and only Frank Lloyd-Wright building too! Another place of interest, for lovers of the grotesque, is the St Francis Hotel, where then President Gerald Ford was shot in 1975. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of either. (Or at least I don't think so.)
Once the cable car starts to pull itself up from Union Square, towards Chinatown, you begin to notice just how steep, steep really is. Oh, you know that the hills are serious, they look it, but this is another thing entirely. The further up the hill you got, the closer to vertical it becomes!
And it's not that the hills just go in one direction either, that stresses you out. When the cable car turns into Washington St, you find yourself going up another hill, at right angles to the one you were just going up. You start to wonder how this is all possible. Just when you've reconciled yourself to this fact, you are suddenly travelling along Hyde St, yet another, even steeper gradient, again at 90° to the last one.
I looked out of the window of the cable car window; everywhere were signs telling motorists to point the wheels into the kerb, park in gear and apply the parking brake. I sensed a business opportunity; how I could get into the car handbrake, spare parts business here?
Union Square is a central location and major meeting place for San Franciscans. Dominating it is the 97ft high Dewey Monument, erected in 1903, to commemorate the Spanish-American War, whilst all around are high end department stores and boutiques, for those with loads of disposable income to throw around.
It is also a bit of a folk-art center and boasts San Francisco's one and only Frank Lloyd-Wright building too! Another place of interest, for lovers of the grotesque, is the St Francis Hotel, where then President Gerald Ford was shot in 1975. Unfortunately, I don't have pictures of either. (Or at least I don't think so.)
Once the cable car starts to pull itself up from Union Square, towards Chinatown, you begin to notice just how steep, steep really is. Oh, you know that the hills are serious, they look it, but this is another thing entirely. The further up the hill you got, the closer to vertical it becomes!
And it's not that the hills just go in one direction either, that stresses you out. When the cable car turns into Washington St, you find yourself going up another hill, at right angles to the one you were just going up. You start to wonder how this is all possible. Just when you've reconciled yourself to this fact, you are suddenly travelling along Hyde St, yet another, even steeper gradient, again at 90° to the last one.
I looked out of the window of the cable car window; everywhere were signs telling motorists to point the wheels into the kerb, park in gear and apply the parking brake. I sensed a business opportunity; how I could get into the car handbrake, spare parts business here?
5. Lombard St (Pt 1)
I alighted from the cable car at Lombard St, the 1000 block of which is the self-proclaimed 'crookedest street in the world'. I marvelled at the hairpin bends and saw no reason to argue with its claim. I squeezed out only four shots and the batteries run out.
I always carry a spare set of batteries - I'm really anally retentive about things like that - and no, that's not where I keep them, either. But not today. No, today, they were in my bag, in the van, back at Slim's, or whichever seedy bar Davey had driven the boys to. Bugger!
The view from Lombard and Hyde is quite spectacular. From left to right are The Coit Tower atop Telegraph Hill, Sts Peter and Paul church at Washington Sq., and the Oakland Bay Bridge. The one thing you can't appreciate in the photo is that Lombard is not just crooked, it's bloody steep too!
I always carry a spare set of batteries - I'm really anally retentive about things like that - and no, that's not where I keep them, either. But not today. No, today, they were in my bag, in the van, back at Slim's, or whichever seedy bar Davey had driven the boys to. Bugger!
The view from Lombard and Hyde is quite spectacular. From left to right are The Coit Tower atop Telegraph Hill, Sts Peter and Paul church at Washington Sq., and the Oakland Bay Bridge. The one thing you can't appreciate in the photo is that Lombard is not just crooked, it's bloody steep too!
Lombard wasn't exactly in the middle of town but, I figured that this being America, there would be corner shop, run by an ethnic minority, somewhere within a couple of blocks. So, I set off down the other side of Lombard. I could see nothing at Larkin, so I continued another block down. Still nothing. I walked back towards town. Nothing at Greenwich, nothing at Filbert. At the next, street, Union, I headed back uphill. Jesus tap-dancing Christ! They need to install cables in the pavements, with shoes on, that you can slip into and be pulled up these impossible hills. You need to be part mountain goat to survive in this burg. What ever possessed anyone to build here? Hills, earthquakes: it's like the north face of Mt Everest, stuck on a jelly, ready to go tits-up-ass down, at any moment.
Sherpa-less, half dead and coughing up a lung, I reached the brief respite that was Union and Larkin. Gradually, as my blurred, blood-tinted, vision cleared, I espied the local store equivalent of El Dorado: The Pegasus Food Shop. I wheezed inside and pointed at batteries, waving my camera. I don't know what language the proprietor spoke, but it wasn't human, of that I'm sure. I know what goes on, I've seen Men in Black and these things are real. If you want proof, look at Sting. There ain't no-one and nothing going to convince me that Gordy the Geordie was born on this blue planet. Christopher Walken, either.
Eventually, I persuaded the shopkeeper that I needed AA batteries, not the AAA he insisted on selling me, handed over what can only be described as a King's ransom and wandered back along Larkin, towards Lombard, once more. Yeah, I could have done without the batteries, but I might never get back to San Francisco, it was still light and I had much to see and do before bedtime.
Sherpa-less, half dead and coughing up a lung, I reached the brief respite that was Union and Larkin. Gradually, as my blurred, blood-tinted, vision cleared, I espied the local store equivalent of El Dorado: The Pegasus Food Shop. I wheezed inside and pointed at batteries, waving my camera. I don't know what language the proprietor spoke, but it wasn't human, of that I'm sure. I know what goes on, I've seen Men in Black and these things are real. If you want proof, look at Sting. There ain't no-one and nothing going to convince me that Gordy the Geordie was born on this blue planet. Christopher Walken, either.
Eventually, I persuaded the shopkeeper that I needed AA batteries, not the AAA he insisted on selling me, handed over what can only be described as a King's ransom and wandered back along Larkin, towards Lombard, once more. Yeah, I could have done without the batteries, but I might never get back to San Francisco, it was still light and I had much to see and do before bedtime.
The three pictures above are the only pictures I have of the Golden gate Bridge... What? I here you mutter (good hearing, eh?)
Let me explain... the bridge was there when I first got to Lombard. You can look down these streets, out over The Presidio, and it is there. By the time I had walked around and got my batteries, no more than fifteen minutes had elapsed, but the bridge was gone, completely shrouded in thick fog. So, that foggy blob in the distance, behind the strip of blackness, Ladies and Gentlemen: the Golden Gate Bridge. I thank you.
Walking back along Larkin, I was struck by the beauty of these old buildings. This, I began to think, is my kind of town. I could happily live right here, in one of these big old houses. Of course, I'd need a sizable lottery win but, oh, to be able to live here and write, that is my idea of heaven on Earth. Besides, I had at least (albeit somewhat inadvertently) strolled along Polk St...
Let me explain... the bridge was there when I first got to Lombard. You can look down these streets, out over The Presidio, and it is there. By the time I had walked around and got my batteries, no more than fifteen minutes had elapsed, but the bridge was gone, completely shrouded in thick fog. So, that foggy blob in the distance, behind the strip of blackness, Ladies and Gentlemen: the Golden Gate Bridge. I thank you.
Walking back along Larkin, I was struck by the beauty of these old buildings. This, I began to think, is my kind of town. I could happily live right here, in one of these big old houses. Of course, I'd need a sizable lottery win but, oh, to be able to live here and write, that is my idea of heaven on Earth. Besides, I had at least (albeit somewhat inadvertently) strolled along Polk St...
5. Lombard St (Pt 2)
This famous, twisty street, is more twisty, steeper and much prettier than you imagine, even at 7:30 on a Thursday. Apparently, it was built like this because it was feared that horses would never get up the hill otherwise, the curves giving it a shallower gradient. It still looked bloody steep to me, bends or not. What's more, they didn't seem to give a rat's ass about the horses anywhere else in town!
At least, if I achieved nothing else today, I could go home and say that I had seen the 'crookedest street in the world'. I had seen something of San Francisco and it was as great as I had thought it would be. There is always a possibility that reality can never live up to what you have imagined. San Francisco was turning out to be even more impressive than I had dreamed it would be.
Haight-Ashbury was out, no way would I physically have time to do that, as it was starting to go dark. Fisherman's Wharf was definitely go - and what's more, it was downhill from here! I practically skipped along Leavenworth until I realised that in San Francisco, being gay and fancy free can get you into much more trouble than you may have been looking for. At Ghirardelli Sq. (named after a famous local chocolatier, apparently) I looked back up the road, to see where I'd come from; it looks a lot steeper when you're looking down the hill, for some bizarre reason.
At least, if I achieved nothing else today, I could go home and say that I had seen the 'crookedest street in the world'. I had seen something of San Francisco and it was as great as I had thought it would be. There is always a possibility that reality can never live up to what you have imagined. San Francisco was turning out to be even more impressive than I had dreamed it would be.
Haight-Ashbury was out, no way would I physically have time to do that, as it was starting to go dark. Fisherman's Wharf was definitely go - and what's more, it was downhill from here! I practically skipped along Leavenworth until I realised that in San Francisco, being gay and fancy free can get you into much more trouble than you may have been looking for. At Ghirardelli Sq. (named after a famous local chocolatier, apparently) I looked back up the road, to see where I'd come from; it looks a lot steeper when you're looking down the hill, for some bizarre reason.
6. Ghirardelli Sq
I walked down to the Maritime museum and gazed out over the bay, towards Alcatraz. The sinister remains of the former maximum security prison, hunkered down low, almost part of the island's bedrock. I took a series of pictures, which I could later stitch together, to form a panorama of this view (below).
Happy that I'd covered all the possible angles, I turned my camera off and slung it around my neck, putting my arm through the strap. Daylight was quickly fading; it would be dark within a very short while, indeed. The only visible movement from The Rock was the metronomic flash of the island's lighthouse. It looked so close, it was difficult to believe that it was impossible to swim what looked such a short distance.
Happy that I'd covered all the possible angles, I turned my camera off and slung it around my neck, putting my arm through the strap. Daylight was quickly fading; it would be dark within a very short while, indeed. The only visible movement from The Rock was the metronomic flash of the island's lighthouse. It looked so close, it was difficult to believe that it was impossible to swim what looked such a short distance.
The San Francisco Bay from Ghirardelli Sq.
l-r the Aquatic Park, Alcatraz, Hyde St Pier and beyond is Fisherman's Wharf...
This was my first time ever on the Pacific coast. I walked to the edge of the paved sidewalk and sat down. I removed my shoes and socks and rolled the legs of my pants up. I stood up, the sand felt cool on, in and between my toes, as I wiggled them. It was getting on for 8PM but it was still pleasantly warm. I bent down and touched the fine, golden grains, letting them pour through my fingers like liquid powder. I walked to the water's edge. The waves lapped gently around my feet. I jumped back. The water was bloody cold and took me by surprise. I knelt down and touched the San Francisco Bay, holding it briefly in my hand. I realised why it would be so difficult to swim that short distance; the water was incredibly cold; much colder than it looked. More than a few minutes in that and everything would be shrivelled and numb beyond belief.
I wandered back up to the sidewalk and sat down once again. No time for sentimental pratting around, too much to see and do. I brushed the sand from my chilled feet and put my socks and shoes back on. I took another look out at The San Francisco Bay and was glad that I would have my pictures to remember this. I headed down Jefferson and Fisherman's Wharf.
I wandered back up to the sidewalk and sat down once again. No time for sentimental pratting around, too much to see and do. I brushed the sand from my chilled feet and put my socks and shoes back on. I took another look out at The San Francisco Bay and was glad that I would have my pictures to remember this. I headed down Jefferson and Fisherman's Wharf.
" Old man down, way on down, down, down by the docks of the city
Blind and dirty, he asked me for a dime, a dime for a cup of coffee."
Wharf Rat (Garcia, Hunter) - The Grateful Dead
Blind and dirty, he asked me for a dime, a dime for a cup of coffee."
Wharf Rat (Garcia, Hunter) - The Grateful Dead
7. Fisherman's Wharf
Fisherman's Wharf is a romantic notion, and conjures up all manner of crusty old seafaring curmudgeon, sat on an anchoring thingy, mending their nets, puffing on a pipe, telling all manner of tall tales from days of yore. Or, maybe it doesn't. Maybe I've seen one too many Bird's Eye fish finger commercials and Captain Nemo movies. Anyway, the point I was trying to make, whose existence I am sure you were questioning, and the relevance of which you were hotly debating, is this; it's not what I imagined.
OK, my only experience of such commercial seafaring ways, per se, is a few trips to Whitby when I was a kid, a year at college in Hull, once getting hopelessly lost in Bremerhaven, a couple of outings to Fleetwood Fish market, and sucking on the odd Fisherman's Friend. Eh? So, I was expecting the quaint and rustic: a few little kiosks selling all manner of pale squidgy things, heavily doused in salt and vinegar; the aforementioned net-mending old salt; a bizarre museum of fish penises (oh, no, that's in Iceland); a few quirky-looking stalls selling paperweights made out of puffer fish and desk lamps fashioned from those Bob Hoskins-looking angler fish mothers that swim in perpetual darkness. What do I get instead? I get Reno bathed in fish sweat.
OK, my only experience of such commercial seafaring ways, per se, is a few trips to Whitby when I was a kid, a year at college in Hull, once getting hopelessly lost in Bremerhaven, a couple of outings to Fleetwood Fish market, and sucking on the odd Fisherman's Friend. Eh? So, I was expecting the quaint and rustic: a few little kiosks selling all manner of pale squidgy things, heavily doused in salt and vinegar; the aforementioned net-mending old salt; a bizarre museum of fish penises (oh, no, that's in Iceland); a few quirky-looking stalls selling paperweights made out of puffer fish and desk lamps fashioned from those Bob Hoskins-looking angler fish mothers that swim in perpetual darkness. What do I get instead? I get Reno bathed in fish sweat.
Now, I know that sounds like a bad thing, but oh Lord, please don't let me be misunderstood.
If you've read the Reno pages, I liked Reno. I just was surprised to find Fisherman's Wharf so dedicated to relieving you of your money. I'm not saying it's all crap, far from it, it's hardly cheap and cheerful, but everywhere you look there are abundant opportunities to spend your folding stuff. Perhaps, that's just sour grapes because I was on such a tight budget and didn't have much in my trousers to start splashing it around. That came out all wrong (said the Bishop to the Actress) but you probably get my drift. Yeah, it is actually. Unlike the Murphy's I am bitter.
If you've read the Reno pages, I liked Reno. I just was surprised to find Fisherman's Wharf so dedicated to relieving you of your money. I'm not saying it's all crap, far from it, it's hardly cheap and cheerful, but everywhere you look there are abundant opportunities to spend your folding stuff. Perhaps, that's just sour grapes because I was on such a tight budget and didn't have much in my trousers to start splashing it around. That came out all wrong (said the Bishop to the Actress) but you probably get my drift. Yeah, it is actually. Unlike the Murphy's I am bitter.
So, what about the good bits? It's all good, really.
I could have spent days down here. I would have liked to go on a night-trip to Alcatraz (and a day trip too come to think of it), take a boat trip out into the bay, take the ferry to Sausalito, I don't know, there are a million things to do, as long as you have the time and money to do them.
Sadly, I had neither the readies, nor the time, and it was already after 9PM. My original intention had been to walk along the Embarcadero to Market St, but I would not have the time now.
- Crime didn't appear to be a factor at all: I did get approached by a panhandler or two but I told them to 'I was straight', which according to Street Brat Rick, means you haven't got any spare money. Whatever, it means, it does get rid of the bloodsucking leeches quite effectively.
- It doesn't smell of fish: I could have been a bit congested but I didn't smell anything remotely resembling fish that didn't emanate from my own person.
- There is a wonderfully friendly atmos: Everyone who is there, is there for the same thing, to see the sights and just have a nice time.
- Street entertainment: There is plenty. From street artists, and musicians to mimes, to people hiding behind bits of twig and jumping out at you, scaring you half to death. (Sadly, the aforementioned Bush Man has since passed away) There was also 'Dr Eric: Fire-eater'. He was really excellent. It is just an excuse to ridicule out-of-towners and make some coin, but I thoroughly enjoyed his act, as did everyone else watching. Very funny and he does do the fire-eating too.
- Bars and restaurants: Wherever you are, there is music and wonderful nose-tweaking aromas coming out of the bars or restaurants. All styles and pockets are catered for. I can't speak for the food but the musicians all sounded bloody good.
I could have spent days down here. I would have liked to go on a night-trip to Alcatraz (and a day trip too come to think of it), take a boat trip out into the bay, take the ferry to Sausalito, I don't know, there are a million things to do, as long as you have the time and money to do them.
Sadly, I had neither the readies, nor the time, and it was already after 9PM. My original intention had been to walk along the Embarcadero to Market St, but I would not have the time now.
8. The Embarcadero (at Sansome & Chestnut)
As I sashayed along, making my way vaguely towards Slim's, I considered how best to get back to where I needed to be. I had a couple of options: I could go back up to Bay and Mason and catch the cable car back to Powell; I could walk up Greenwich or Lombard and check out Coit Tower on Telegraph Hill. I looked at my map. I had reached Chestnut and Sansome and I was conscious of it being decidedly dark. Whichever way I went, it was a fair walk up a dark road to catch the cable car. I would have liked to have seen the Coit Tower, but I wasn't going alone in the dark. No point in inviting disaster - I don't need to invite it, it finds me well enough as it is! Besides, I already had 400 photographs on my camera's memory card that I didn't want to lose. What's more, it was heading up to 10PM and I'd said I'd be back by then. Whilst I didn't expect anyone to miss me, or even notice I wasn't there, or care that I hadn't returned, I did have a ride to LA that I wanted to catch!It was fully dark by now.
Digital photography is none too clever in the dark. You can't see to focus and the bloody flash tries to blind everyone. Turning it off just makes everything blurred, especially with shaky hands like mine! Nevertheless I did get a couple of reasonable of pictures pointing towards the Coit Tower and Telegraph Hill, a couple more towards the Financial district and one along the Embarcadero.
Digital photography is none too clever in the dark. You can't see to focus and the bloody flash tries to blind everyone. Turning it off just makes everything blurred, especially with shaky hands like mine! Nevertheless I did get a couple of reasonable of pictures pointing towards the Coit Tower and Telegraph Hill, a couple more towards the Financial district and one along the Embarcadero.
It had now reached the stage where the law of diminishing returns took over. I could take pictures, but the flash was useless over six feet away, merely illuminating trees, cars, road signs and everything I didn't want a picture of. Yeah, I could turn the flash off, but unless you have a bright light on your subject, or a tripod, you're screwed (technical term) and you've just got loads of dodgy crap taking up space on the card, which you will realise are useless, as soon as you look at them on the computer.
So, do you try and take a picture, in the hope that you get one that isn't blurred and/or black, or do you just accept that you won't have pictures of the Transamerica Pyramid and the Coit Tower? I risked a dozen, or so and decided to catch a street car to Market St, have a quick look around there, buy a bottle of water, then catch a bus or street car up to 11th.*
*2010 - This was in 2003 and the days before 32GB memory cards...
So, do you try and take a picture, in the hope that you get one that isn't blurred and/or black, or do you just accept that you won't have pictures of the Transamerica Pyramid and the Coit Tower? I risked a dozen, or so and decided to catch a street car to Market St, have a quick look around there, buy a bottle of water, then catch a bus or street car up to 11th.*
*2010 - This was in 2003 and the days before 32GB memory cards...
The 210ft Coit Tower sits perched on the top of Telegraph Hill and is a distinctive, if somewhat peculiar, landmark. It was built in 1934 and financed by the eccentric Lillie Hitchcock Coit, who, it is said, had a particular penchant for fires and firefighters. It is featured in the Eddie Murphy remake of Doctor Dolittle as the place where Dolittle first meets Jacob the tiger.
The Transamerica Pyramid is the tallest and most recognizableskyscraper in the San Francisco skyline. Built on the location of the historic Montgomery Block, it has a structural height of 260 m (850 ft). Construction began in 1969 and finished in 1972. Although the tower no longer serves as the Transamerica Corporation headquarters, it is still evocative of San Francisco and has become one of the many symbols of the city. Designed by architect William Pereira, it faced considerable opposition during its planning and construction, and was sometimes referred to by detractors as "Pereira's Prick".
The Transamerica Pyramid was the tallest skyscraper west of the Mississippi from 1972 to 1974 surpassing the then Bank of America Center. In 1999, Transamerica was acquired by Dutch insurance company AEGON. When the non-insurance operations of Transamerica were later sold to GE Capital, AEGON retained the building as an investment.
The Transamerica Pyramid is the tallest and most recognizableskyscraper in the San Francisco skyline. Built on the location of the historic Montgomery Block, it has a structural height of 260 m (850 ft). Construction began in 1969 and finished in 1972. Although the tower no longer serves as the Transamerica Corporation headquarters, it is still evocative of San Francisco and has become one of the many symbols of the city. Designed by architect William Pereira, it faced considerable opposition during its planning and construction, and was sometimes referred to by detractors as "Pereira's Prick".
The Transamerica Pyramid was the tallest skyscraper west of the Mississippi from 1972 to 1974 surpassing the then Bank of America Center. In 1999, Transamerica was acquired by Dutch insurance company AEGON. When the non-insurance operations of Transamerica were later sold to GE Capital, AEGON retained the building as an investment.
9. Market St
I easily caught another street car from Market Street to the end of 11th St at Van Ness.
Walking around Fisherman's Wharf in the dark had been one thing, it was busy and well lit, but back on 11th St, I was decidedly nervous, I admit, walking down to Slim's. This was not the best area to be walking around on your own, at night. Ah well, if anyone who has a go at me, I might not win, but they'll need to see someone to have a camera removed from the side of their face..
Walking around Fisherman's Wharf in the dark had been one thing, it was busy and well lit, but back on 11th St, I was decidedly nervous, I admit, walking down to Slim's. This was not the best area to be walking around on your own, at night. Ah well, if anyone who has a go at me, I might not win, but they'll need to see someone to have a camera removed from the side of their face..
