Cold Steel

Today started just like yesterday at the Fisherman's Wharf Hostel, thunking and scraping overhead. Our room was located under the cafe that starts serving the free breakfast at 7 am.  We kidded ourselves about being able to sleep through it until about 7:45 am. (Camille says I was kidding myself because she was sleeping!) Enough is enough. Got up, got out of bed, dragged Camille out of bed and got the day started. Breakfast at Cafe GoLo, a cute little, self described 'boutique cafe'. Not sure what boutique means when it comes to food, but it was small, close tables and excellent food. Our server PB, (like Pheobe) was very hospitable and informative, telling us about the food and the 49 mile drive around San Frans main tourists attractions. She started us off with a taste of the mixed fruit tart and cranberry scone (English biscuit). Both warmed and delicious. To read more about the food, go to the Eats, Treats and Gastronomy page.

We tried to see an exhibit at SFMOMA, the modern art museum of San Francisco, only to be turned away because it closed on Wednesdays. Who ever heard of closing a museum on Wednesday??? Monday yes, but not Wednesday. People red a distraction half way through the work week. Not to be deterred we browsed throughout the Museum store and headed on over to Haight Ashbury to check off some items on our "To Do" lIst.

First up, a Grateful Dead, tie-dyed T shirt for the stowaway back home. Tough decision, there ware at least 20 different kinds of tie-dyed dead head shirts. We settled on one, Camille bought a very cool, light defracting silver ring.

Next up, the tattoo and piercing parlor. Cold Steel, came very highly recommended by the Dead Head T shirt seller down the street. While waiting, we got thoroughly schooled on the cons of using a piercing gun, how our first cartilage piercings were done and feeling extremely lucky our ears are still on our heads and doing well. Think cattle tagging and you'll get the gist of the conversation.

The highly tattooed and multiply gaged clerk (including nostrils and ears) gave a very professional presentation on the standards and processes they use to pierce body parts.

Camille was taken to a back room, set up like a doctor's office by a masked and rubber gloved piercer person, not sure what the correct terminology is. He thoroughly sterilized her ear, told her to take a deep breath and breath out slowly and before she fully exhaled there was a squeak, a drop of blood and a new ring in her ear. Very well done.

The pictures on the wall were of tattooed and pierced bodies throughout history. Some I have seen in National Geographic. While I myself will not be getting a tattoo anytime soon, I am curious about those who get them today, why and the images they choose. I have seen beautiful ones that look more like watercolors, on service men who were stationed in the south pacific during the 80s. Most of what I see now is much bolder and darker, and not sure beauty is part of the reasoning.  Beauty, most certainly, is in the eye of the beholder. But have you ever wondered what beauty actually means??

Off to the Golden Gate Bridge, where we did multiple rubbings and got our hair restyled by the brisk winds. Seals and porpoises swam what looked like a hundred feet below. Pedestrians and bikers share the walkway, so it made for an interesting game of chicken. Definitely didn't want a repeat of the Seattle Biking Fiasco experience.

We considered taking Hwy 1 down the coast, a beautiful ride past Big Sur, Carmel and other sights that we'd seen on our last trip to the west coast. Seeing that  it takes minimum of 9-10 hours, and it was already 2 pm, we opted for the recommendations of my nephew Kim, to hop on 280 until Hwy 101. Good choice, except the changing from interstate with limited access to freeway.  Passed a garlic farm along the way, at Gavilon, mmmm, mmmm, my favorite seasoning. Some of the other fields were not so welcome smells, cabbage being tops on the list.

It's a little creepy passing huge satellite dishes so close to the road as we zoomed by Los Altos Hills on 280. A small, unmarked building with multiple communications towers and another large dish could be glimpsed between rolling hills… Sounds like a good start for a B rated mystery, I digress, but whom wouldn't after going 4000 miles.

Driving through miles and miles of produce still in the process of ripening is astounding, especially considering the variation of crops and what our little part of the world uses. The lengthening shadows give a Van Gogh air to it all. Patterns, rhythms, contrasting colors. Most of the landscape outside of these fields is dry and golden. California is known for it's water shortages, where is it all coming from to keep everything else green and growing?

We spotted 2 oddly shaped "islands" a ways out, but couldn't make out what they were as we passed just north El Capitan State Beach. They looked too tall to be a natural phenomenon, but it was too hazy to make out exactly what they were. Weird. Saw three more near Ventura. Are these oil riggs?????? They look like something from Lord of the Rings. Traveling is a humbling experience. We get to gloss over what an area is all about, but these local oddities escape us. Thankfully the internet exists for curious minds. They are oil rigs and they create their own underwater habitat amongst the labyrinth of metal beams and pillars. How persistent nature is, to continue with what it does best, grow. One would never know what is below the surface without looking into it. These pictures are pulled from:

http://www.divephotoguide.com/underwater-photography-travel/article/diving-southern-californias-oil-rigs/

 
  


After stopping to ogle at the setting day over the Pacific ocean, the rest of the day went by in a blur, literally. With high speed limits, and low light, Camille made tracks and we checked into a Residence Inn in Camarillo, CA before midnight. The Compass was getting quite a collection of road wings on the front grill and behind the side mirrors.