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And Just Like That, We’re Done

I almost forgot San Francisco! To be honest, it sucked. I liked where we stayed out in Berkley more.

You gotta see Lombard Street! I feel sorry for anyone that actually lives on Lombard and every morning on their way to work has to dodge the hundred people taking photos at the stop sign. It’s steep, we get it. There are some sweet spots downtown but it felt like we were twenty years too late, that little square section of town between Dolores, 17th and 24th would’ve had a right vibe through the 80’s.

Lombard Street, San Francisco

Orange Gate Bridge

I did enjoy being a tourist for couple of days though, taking photos of a bridge just like the million people before me, complaining about the fog with the locals. Chinatown was cool, those guys just get on with living and make REALLY good egg custard tarts. I filled up with a warm belly of egg custard each morning and was good to go. The Leica store was as expected, just perfect. Renato D’agostin’s ‘Beautiful Cliche’ is something I’d recommend to anyone with half an interest in the camera obscura.

We decided cities aren’t really for us and after a couple of days we got out of there, heading west-southwest through the mist, got back to camping in Santa Cruz as soon as we could by way of Half Moon Bay. I peeked over the edge of the cliffs at ‘Mavericks’ and was thankful the waves weren’t cooperating, that place looks scary enough to be in the water, much less paddle into an avalanche.

I was nervous before we drifted down Big Sur; everyone asked us how much water or gas we had or if we’d done it before. Maps are ok to judge distance but gauging time is difficult on paper, no one could give us a straight answer. In the end we took our time and the windy roads of Big Sur only lasted a day as we stopped at our leisure and slid into Morro Bay easily by dusk.

Rincon at two to three feet might be the most fun you can have, leg burners for days.

Yours Truly

The above is a photo of me looking tired on what I consider the last day of the trip and about to leave Santa Barbara for the five-hour grind through L.A. traffic to San Diego. Somewhere in those sacrificial hours, sitting in gridlock in a pair of old shorts letting my arm pits waft into surrounding cars when Elena’s uncle calls – “get here by two and be clean, your Grandma wants you eating soup by two”. Fucking yeah! All I had wanted to do that afternoon was to roll around in the ocean a little and tease their King Charles Cavalier on the fake grass out front. Five stars California.

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