The bridge that I just crossed
A public exhibit of clean, renewable wind energy, installed circa 2001. Small wind captures the public’s imagination, whether it works or not. The two top-rotor wind generators are both tied down, apparently permanently. Few vertical-axis wind turbines actually work, and fewer still last.
A close-up of one of the disabled units tied down.
PV, on the other hand, ijust sits on the roof and produces energy – no muss, no fuss – for years. This array is on the top of a building at Fort Mason, near the GG Bridge. During WWII this was the embarkation point for soldiers heading out across the Pacific.
This has nothing to do with solar at all!! Rather, this organization helps street vendors navigate the city’s permit bureaucracy.
After crossing the Golden Gate Bridge, I rode around Fort Mason in the Golden Gate National Recreation Area, the Marina, the Fisherman’s Wharf tourist area, and the piers to the Embarcadero, where I caught the BART train to the East Bay. I then rode along a very well-traveled off-road bike trail to visit Johanna’s dad and his wife. They were the last to send me off around July 15th or so, so I wanted to “complete the circle” by topping in to share some stories. Over the next couple of days I stayed with Johanna’s mom in Rossmoor, the original (50 years old) “senior living” community near Walnut Creek. Jeez, I’m well past old enough to live there, play golf and go to ice cream socials – no thanks. Barbara and I had a good visit – the first time in years that just she and I had unstructured time together. I rode over the Oakland hills one afternoon to visit Stephen Willard, who I was in my first men’s group back in the early 1990s, and we have stayed in touch in the years since. He and his husband Keith are raising four adopted kids, so I had the chance to see them as older kids – Martin is now in middle school…
Old railroad beds and canals have become a network of bicycle routes among towns in the region.
To return to touring, I took the BART train back to the Embarcadero and retraced my route back to the GG Bridge, continuing over the hills to the Ocean. The day was absurdly warm – something close to 90 in a city that rarely reaches 75 due to the maritime influence and fog. I found my way down the urban coast, dealing with heavy traffic, including the notorious Devil’s Slide section of Highway One: narrow, shoulderless, uphill two-lane madness. At one point I simp;y stopped along the road when I heard a semi truck approaching – simply a safer approach. I guess I made it through alive, but talking later with another cyclist over a beer in Half Moon Bay, I learned that after having done this same ride once years ago, he climbed an extra 600′ or so on a dirt trail just to avoid that section, having vowed never again to ride that stretch of highway.
A blessing atop the Devil’s slide climb: one of two lanes in this mile-long tunnel has been turned into a bike path.
Further
The court jester as hood ornament
Leaving Half Moon Bay, I was surprised to see Further parked along Highway One. Further is the sort-of replica of the bus the Merry Pranksters drove around the U.S. fifty years ago, as documented in Tom Wolfe’s The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test. The original bus, named Furthur, is rotting away at Ken Kesey’s farm in Oregon, and this one was built and painted several years ago to take its place in the annals of counterculture history.
I camped in the hiker-biker section of Half Moon Bay State Park, sipping beer, Irish whiskey, and moonshine with four other tourers sharing the site, all of whom were mid-forties or older. I very much enjoy the perspective of those of us with some years packed onto our old bodies. Today I continue toward Santa Cruz, where I once avoided adulthood for five years in the mid-1970s. I’ll check out some old haunts, the bike shops where I once worked as a mechanic and knew that community, and hopefully one or two of the free (clothing-optional) beaches I used to occasionally visit. I remember that I felt more natural and less titillated at a nude beach than a normal one, and long ago lost some of our culture’s inhibitions about our bodies in my early adult years, and free beaches around Santa Cruz contributed to this. We’ll see.
The trip is winding down. I intend to continue down the coast only about as far as San Luis Obispo, in order to ride the Big Sur section. Then I’ll make my way across the desert toward New Mexico by thumb. I’d like to also ride across western New Mexico to home, but for now, that’s yet to be planned.