WHAT A DAY THAT WAS //
WHAT A DAY THAT WAS //
“Oh well, I’m dressed up so nice / and I’m doing my best”
My dear friend Greg and I went down to San Francisco on a whim a few weeks go, spurred by some ridiculously low priced airline tickets—$56 round trip PDX to SFO to be exact. I saw the deal and called him up and convinced him to join me. Just 48 hours, Thursday afternoon to Saturday afternoon.
What would we do? We bought tickets to a concert at the famous Fillmore Thursday night but besides that we weren’t exactly sure except we knew we wanted to eat, a lot, and explore on foot, a bunch, but keep it relatively budget overall.
I lived in SF and the area for a handful of years before moving to Portland 14 years ago and absolutely loved running and exploring the hills and neighborhoods on foot, often crossing the Golden Gate Bridge to romp in the Marin Headlands and take the trails to Mt Tamalpais and sometimes beyond.
In prep for this trip, I mapped out a 30 mile route through the city and into the Headlands and down to Sausalito (to then take the ferry back to downtown.) It would be a homecoming of sorts, doing another all-day hybrid urban/trail adventure through one of the most amazing cities in the world, seeing all sorts of stunning sights and eating a variety of delicious cuisine along the way.
We stayed in the inexpensive but surprisingly nice Hayes Valley Inn in, yep, Hayes Valley and started and ended our big day right there, at the doorstep of the hotel, at the intersection of bustling Gough and Hayes Streets.
Our foot-travel journey began at 7ish on Friday morning in a light rain. We cast off southwards into the Mission, down Valencia St, letting the bright colors of the murals wake us up, and the street art act like a second cup of coffee. We stopped at the renowned Arizmendi Bakery, grabbed coffee and baked goods (including the unique and wondrous Salvadoran Quesadilla Muffin!), sat for a few minutes and then kept on south toward Bernal Heights. We climbed up Bernal, weaving around on the delightful single track trails that traverse it, and enjoyed the stunning views of the city laid out before us from the top. We could see Twin Peaks to the west, where we were heading, but down and around, through Glen Park, by the amazing Burnside Mural & Steps, and onto the trails of Glen Canyon first.
Moody views met us on top of Twin Peaks, grey and drizzly, as we rode the roller coaster trails up and down the lofty humps and surveyed the city, Bernal now looking small in comparison from the new vantage.
Then came the best section of trail I’d ever done in San Francisco—couldn’t believe I’d never been on it when I lived there—wrapping around Mt Sutro through the Blue Gum Eucalyptus, down past University of San Francisco and into Golden Gate Park.
We had a recommendation for a truly legit dumpling spot in the Sunset—Yuanbao Jiaozi—from an old friend so we knew that was a mandatory stop. It didn’t open until 11 so we took our time weaving around through the park, by the DeYoung Museum, enjoying the art and plants, sculptures and architecture, finding little trails here and there, before hitting the dumpling zone. What a spot, so fresh and delicious, you could watch the women making each dumpling as they were ordered. We savored the sit-down, the food, and the experience, then walked back a few blocks to the Pineapple King Bakery, a place we’d spotted on our way to Yuanbao that looked too good to pass up for dessert. And OH WOW was Pineapple King a unique and scrumptious treat; I’d never had any baked goods quite like them before—definitely highly recommended. I’m so happy we just randomly saw it and tried it—that’s the real magic of traveling on foot and just letting the adventure unfold.
The beach was next, a big, grey Pacific Ocean and slate sky staring right back at us when we reached it and turned north toward Lands End. The rain started in earnest and we pressed on: Lands End, the wealth of Sea Cliff, Baker Beach, wet sand and lapping waves and the “sand ladder”, trails and mud and (more) stairs, up and down and up again, aiming for that big old Golden Gate Bridge, hanging there in the fog like an apparition, a portal to another land, a place of possibilities, because a place with trails and animals and dirt and trees is always a place with possibility.
Over that grand bridge we went, marvelling at the beauty while passing signs urging people to not commit suicide and instead choose to continue engaging in this existence, however painful and hopeless it can be. A stunning feat of engineering and design, a worldwide icon, and thing people choose to jump from—fascinating how much beauty and sadness, light and dark, can be found/felt within a single thing. I guess it’s all about what you focus on.
The Headlands ushered us off the bridge and onto the trails, our feet happy to feel the uneven dirt as we climbed up into the clouds, in our own world. We tagged a highpoint where normally we’d have a 360 view of the whole shebang, but instead we had to paint the picture ourselves, fill in the big blank canvas with our own creations.
A few more miles of sweet, rolling single track brought us to the cut off and descent down into Sausalito. Down we went, trail, then pavement, then stairs through neighborhoods, then right down onto main street Sausalito at last, just across from the ferry terminal. We grabbed one more quick coffee and cookie at Lappert’s Ice Cream for the ferry ride, then walked across the street, bought our tickets and walked on to the boat—just about 27 miles of foot travel so far.
The ride was a lovely respite, to sit and talk and relax, or just be quiet and watch the view go by, the city we’d traversed and the Golden Gate Bridge we’d just been across. Still enough light to see as we curved around Alcatraz and headed toward the Ferry Building right there at the Embarcadero at the head of Market Street. By the time we’d landed it was proper dark and the lights of the city were on, twinkling and piercing and blinking busily as ever, shining and gleaming in every direction.
One more stop, for a proper Mission-style veggie burrito right on Market Street, then a full-bellied walk-jog-stroll to finish it all off, through Civic Center and City Hall and all those classic, grandiose municipal buildings.
Friday rush hour; we navigated the traffic and stop lights and then were back, standing at the doorstep of the Hayes Valley Inn once again, about 10 hours after leaving that morning. 30 miles on foot, 4 nautical miles on the ferry, so much good food, endless culture and cultures, people watching bonanza, animals of all species, a comedy and tragedy, the richest and the poorest, the grand and ungraspable juxtaposition of everything, all in a day, one deliberate long-distance, long duration Q&A with the world, the people and places, sounds, sights, smells, and tastes; therapy, medicine, spirituality, sustenance; all basic and elemental—like water, bread, air, like living, dying, loving.
Showers and dry, clean warm clothes and a quick reset before we hit the streets again for a mile and a half walk to Tartine Manufactory to meet a dear friend for dinner (Ross, who’d recommended the dumpling spot). Then an NA nightcap at Trick Dog Bar finished off the night.
Thankfully, after all that, we were ready for sleep and Ross was kind enough to give us a ride home… //
-Willie McBride
