San Francisco and Wine Country

Sandwiched around my Alcatraz Sharkfest swim, Donna and I visited San Francisco and the Napa and Sonoma valleys.  What an unbelievable and unforgettable experience.

We arrived in San Francisco on Thursday morning and drove to our hotel, the Argonaut, in the Fisherman’s Wharf section of town, adjacent to Aquatics Park, where the swim ended.  The Wharf is really touristy, like a beach boardwalk—shops selling tee-shirts and souvenirs, bike rentals, chain restaurants and entertainment venues like wax museums.  And bajillions of tourists.  The sidewalks were packed from 9 in the morning to late at night.  But the location was excellent not only because of its proximity to the race but because we were close to so many things we wanted to see.

On Friday, the day before my swim, we toured Alcatraz.  The watchtowers and ruins of buildings reminded me of the pictures I have seen of POW camps or Auschwitz.  The conditions looked sub-human.  The audio tour, featuring the voices of prisoners and guards, was chilling and enlightening.  I recommend everyone see Alcatraz.

Early one morning Donna and I walked across the street to a pier where fishing boats were moored, away from the commercial area.  We saw pelicans and seagulls lounging on a stone jetty, a sea lion sticking his head above the water to catch a breath and a seagull dining on starfish, with the majestic Golden Gate Bridge and Alcatraz looming in the background, all enveloped by misty gray fog that made everything kind of mystical.

We ate at restaurants fine (Alioto’s on the wharf) and not-so-fine.  New England style fish chowder is rampant here, as is sourdough bread, and, why not, chowder served in sourdough bread bowls.  Boudin’s, a legendary bakery between the Wharf and Pier 39 (a twitch-inducing nightmare of a mega tourist spot) on the Embarcadero, which is rightly famous for its excellent sourdough bread (and claims to be the inventor of bread bowls), is wonderful.  The day before my swim, after a marathon walk, I was in need of a seat and some liquid refreshment.  We ducked into Boudin’s when I spotted a sign saying they had an oyster bar upstairs.  Up we went and had a wonderful time.  Anchor Steam beer and fresh raw oysters were very restorative, the bar was beautiful and the barman very friendly.  We also visited Boudin’s downstairs bakery Monday morning for a terrific breakfast al fresco on a secluded patio away from the masses.

The afternoon after my swim, we drove south on the coastal highway toward Monterey.  The scenery was breathtaking.  We got as far as Half Moon Bay and I was ready to eat.  We saw a road sign for Miramar Beach Restaurant and turned in.  It was exquisite.  It’s been there since the 1920s.  We got a table overlooking the beach and ordered a very special bottle of wine—Cakebread chardonnay—and, what else, chowder and sourdough bread to start off the meal.

We walked like Johnny Appleseed from one side of the city to the other.  China Town, the financial district, the Embarcadero, Lombard Street.  We rode street cars and trolleys.  We walked some more.  We saw Telegraph Hill, the Coit Tower thereon, Ghirardelli Square.  We went to Muir Woods and saw the giant redwoods.

A word about Muir Woods: It was almost sacred, with trees hundreds of years old rising out of a primordial setting of ferns and clover that looks exactly like shamrocks.  Almost, because of the throngs of tourists from every nation and state who couldn’t keep from speaking as if the entire county needed to hear their every word.  Donna actually started shushing people.  I would love to go back there some day on a more serene day.

A second word about Muir Woods: The road you take to get there is hair-raisingly curvy.  It is one series of hair-pin turns after another as you switch-back up and down mountains for miles.  Because the in-park parking lots were full, we had to park about 30 minutes from the park and take a shuttle bus.  The driver was apparently paid by how quickly he could arrive at the destination.  He was taking the sharp, blind turns at excessive speeds, notwithstanding the numerous cars, bikers, fellow buses, parked cars and other obstacles, and the sheer, steep bluffs just beyond the road that would have meant certain death for us all had he gone off the road.

Somehow, we arrived safely. 

That night, to celebrate our surviving the treacherous bus ride, we took a taxi to the very posh Top of the Mark at the Mark-Hopkins hotel.  The Top of the Mark is a bar, serving only light fare, and they don’t take reservations.  Donna strongly recommended we go there and it was a great experience.  We arrived just before sunset and were seated at a great table in about five minutes.  That was a real highlight.

We also met up with Laura Kasimatis, Donna’s god-daughter, for a drink in between Muir Woods and Top of the Mark.  What a beautiful, poised and smart young woman.  We had a terrific visit with her.  On Sunday we met with Mary Ann Smythe in Sausalito.  I had probably met her at some point, maybe an O’Keeffe party many years past, but it was delightful to spend some time and get to know her a bit.  She’s a wonderful person and I hope we get to see her again in the not-so-distant future.

A friend who was here but I didn’t get a chance to see is Craig Thorne, a co-worker who flew into town to run the marathon the day after my swim.  Likewise, my son-in-law’s sister and her husband, Amanda and Gavin, who recently moved to the Bay area, were away on vacation.  We’re sorry we missed them.

A favorite memory of the San Francisco attitude: on the way back from Muir Woods we were in a tunnel near the Golden Gate Bridge.  Somebody honked, then somebody else honked.  That started a symphony as dozens of cars in the tunnel started honking—not in anger but in an ironic, funny manner. After that died down, somebody honked the first part of, “shave and a haircut,” then someone else honked, “two bits,”  which started a new round of honking.  It was great, and not something you would ever hear on the buttoned-up, tightly wrapped East Coast.

Yesterday we departed San Francisco and headed to Napa.  We stopped in the town of Napa and picked up sandwiches, then found the Stag’s Leap winery.  We couldn’t get a tour but enjoyed a tasting, then purchased a bottle of very good sauvignon blanc and sat at a picnic table on their grounds overlooking the vineyards and the Silverado Trail.  It was a perfectly decadent way to have lunch.  Then we checked in to our hotel just south of Napa, said hello to the swans that came up to our patio to inspect the new arrivals, and then rested up for dinner in St. Helena.  Dinner at Tra Vigna, on Mary Ann’s recommendation, was extraordinary.

A final note: The swim organizers posted the results.  I came in 153rd out of 900 swimmers.  I'll never say never, but that would be a good way to finish up my open water career.