Went to a Giants game one evening (and watched them get utterly trounced) then decided to take the long way home. As I’m sure I’ve mentioned, the waterfront from China Basin to Bayview is one of my favorite stretches of San Francisco as its rich with the kind of history that’s still sitting there breaking down into rubble. Tangible history’s my favorite. I’d been wanting to climb around in Carmen’s for a while and with everyone busying themselves with ballpark traffic further down the stream it seemed like as good a time as any.
Not much left inside but the bar and a lot of charred trash.
Continued our ride past the ginners at Distillery 209 and around through the myriad of gates and ships.
Stopped off a bar in Dogpatch for a bit of liquid courage before more nocturnal explorations. Normal enough bar upstairs, but when we ventured to the basement-like cave downstairs we found it fitted out with a wall of airplane window panels complete with a blinking light running behind them so it looked like you were flying through fog. Totally weird and grungy and kind of awesome.
Back out in the night we spent another hour sizing up our target, but to no avail, the place is a fortress. A chink in the armor may have been spotted, so cross those fingers we’ll have better luck next time.
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Anyone have a grappling hook? I may not even be kidding.
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August 11th, 2008
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Don’t know why but for some reason these photos got shelved somewhere in the back of post-city. I guess that’s not so odd since I’m all film these days (hence the constant “last week” or “a couple Sundays ago” that inevitably begin these posts), but in a way its kind of fun as we now get to relive the adventure just when it’d begun to seem like ages ago.
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Took the ferry over to Angel Island as part of the birthday festivities in June. I’d never been before and managed to get a Sunday night camping spot, which was actually kind of amazing considering it was a relatively last minute decision and that place books up like a cathouse on Valentines Day. Or something to that effect. Loaded up the bikes and got everybody up and onto the 11:30 ferry, no small feat post Saturday night.
Little baby seagulls were checking us out.
Bloody Mary’s helped cut the fog.
Finally went to Alcatraz! Not this trip, though, we’ll have to save those photos for another time.
Got into Ayala Cove to find the weather ever so much nicer than back at home. I love it when things work out that way.
Pedaled up the hill and down a windy dirt path to Reynolds Camp. Since its a group camp, its down in a little valley all by itself with only one other site way back up the hill. I’d almost forgotten how great it is to have a spot all to yourselves.
Bike posse.
Franks promptly cracked into his 4 ounces of freedom.
As usual hi-jinks ensued.
Clambered down to the beach and lolled around in the sun, poking dead jellyfish and waving at seals.
Caught up with the rest of the gang who’d taken a later ferry, then started off on a perimeter tour of the island.
So many deer.
Great views of the socked-in city.
The best part of the island (aside from all the nature) is the leftover barracks and military buildings. Its all just there for the exploring and when the last ferries leave there’s really no one else around. I think we saw two other people the whole 3 hours we spent walking around and neither was a ranger.
Once upon a time huge guns sat here protecting the entrance to the bay.
Poked our noses around the old missile silos but everything was locked up tight. Found a small hole and climbed in it just so it wouldn’t be a total loss.
Much better luck was had at the old hospital.
Attics are always creepy. Reminded me of the time a couple of us made it into the old mental hospital on Lake Street. That was a really weird one.
Circumnavigated the 7 miles of island and got back to camp before the sun hit the water. Such a great little camp, there were 9 of us and no one had to set up their tent in the bushes.
Dinner time. The only drawback to camping on the Island is the no fires rule. Got around it by piling up some wood on the grill after meats were done making a nice little hobo warmer. Whiskey helps as well.
Slow morning breakfast then packed things up and rolled back down to the cove for coffee and more napping on the grass. Funny how often we have to recover from vacations.
Back on the afternoon ferry and home we go.
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Where’s the rest? Right, so I left out all the fascinating historical bits, but Angel Island is in fact full of them. It first became a part of the U.S. in 1848 (it’d previously belonged to Mexico) and was fitted with artilleries during the Civil War in case the Confederacy decided to attack from the coast. This military presence continued up through WWII with the addition of an immigration station around 1910 that became know as the “Ellis Island of the west”. As the name might imply, things were a great deal less than pleasant, compounded by the fact that most immigrants were coming through from Asia at a time of incredible anti-Chinese sentiment. Families were separated, interrogated and often held for as long as six months while officials tried to find out if their papers were legitimate (a feat most likely never actually accomplished). All in all not a pretty chapter for such a lovely island. Still its what may have saved the whole place, as the station was abandoned by the late 40’s and slated for demolition in the 1970 (the military having pulled out after the Cold War), when a park ranger found poetry painted on the walls inside the detention barracks and championed the cause to restore the station for the public. And so they did. We were too busy doing the camping thing to check out the museum, but I’m pretty sure its got to be amazing and there are a whole bunch of informational programs on and about the island (plus you can volunteer over there!) Its definitely worth a visit, even if just for the day, and the ferries run pretty regularly throughout the day. There’s a little cafe (and oyster bar) at Ayala Cove but picnic areas abound and I think you can reserve grills as well. Camping reservations can be made through Reserve America and if you find one, grab it, there’s only 11 of them on the whole island.
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August 11th, 2008
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Went for a ride a while back and ended up having the most amazing day a body could wish for. Started out running errands downtown, then figured I’d take the long way home and check out the new launch ramp down on pier 52. The waterfront from China Basin to Bayview is one of my favorite stretches of San Francisco, sort of the last frontier for exploration in a city that’s constantly developing. Sadly that development fever seems to have extended even down there, as the UCSF campus has opened the place up for condos and high rises. Its got to be weird for the Mission Creek Houseboaters to suddenly look out at yellow and beige lofts after years of being left totally alone. Actually, it seems like there’s a whole new sweep of re-development going on and it makes me wonder how many San Franciscans know about it, especially considering I’ve only taken notice because I like the area and ride around there constantly. Been noticing more and more abandoned buildings being gated off and/or demolished and had a truly weird experience when Franklin and I rode down to Hunter’s Point a few weeks ago to take a look at the abandoned neighborhood by the shipyards (not sure what it was all about, probably PG&E contamination years ago, but it was an entire neighborhood behind chain link fences with boarded up houses and streets overgrown with weeds). Guess what? It wasn’t there any more. The whole hill was razed as was the visible part of the shipyards where Dago Mary’s used to stand. Nothing like hindsight to make you wish you’d gone somewhere a month earlier. As far as HP goes at least, its probably safe to say it won’t get any condos for a while as the estimated clean-up fee lies around $3 million with a good dose of radioactivity thrown into the mix. Last I heard the Navy was trying to get us to settle on some kind of $1 million soap and water job.
So anyhow, digression aside, they’ve put in a really neat informational kiosk with a couple of awesome maps right next to the launch ramp. Had a “holy shit” moment while looking at this one. I think I may have even said it out loud. They’re razing the shipyards to put in a ballpark? My mystery’s solved. Makes me wonder why no one else know about this, though maybe they do and I just never read the newspaper.
Another really cool map showing the old waterline and Mission Creek. Someday I’d like to try another storm drain expedition, this time with hip waders and flashlights. At about this point in my musings a grizzly, white-haired gent in high top Converse rode up and wondered at what I was reading (perhaps he heard the not-so-quite expletives) and after a few minutes of chatting offered to show me an available space in his boat yard just down the street. Got to talking some more about the old waterfront and as it turned out he’d grown up there and lived in the city all his life. Also turned out he was a member of the Bayview Boat Club and invited me in for a drink.
You can only imagine how long I’ve been waiting to check that place out. Total workingman’s boat club, I love it.
Got a tour of the yard and a nice cold beer, then went out around the side to see the mosaics.
Along the boat ramp was a whole tiled wall done by the club’s recent members. Pretty damn nice with boats and sea creatures and a rather voluptuous mermaid.
Up under the deck were the remnants of the original ones.
And of course the boat club’s burgee.
Back inside Larry (my friendly gent) bought me a couple more beers then offered to take me out in his rowboat. Though I suppose there’s a 1 in 99 chance I could get smacked over the head with an oar and dumped in the bay, there’s no way I was saying no to an offer like that. Besides, he just didn’t seem like an ax murderer.
Out and around the barges and through the pilings.
Rowed down to The Ramp listening to stories about nearby boats, Hells Angels and old San Francisco.
Bloody Mary’s, more drinks with Franklin at the boat club and promises that we’d be back, next time in the you-know-what.
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Good day, sunshine? If you haven’t already, take a nice meandering bike ride from the ballpark and check out the houseboats along Mission Creek. Head back to Terry Francois and ride south towards The Ramp and you’ll pass by the new launch ramp and its oh-so-informational kiosk. Right next door is the brightly yellowed Bay View Boat Club, sorry it members only drink-wise. Hang around long enough though, and you just might get lucky.
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August 5th, 2008
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Spent a warm Sunday a few weekends ago partaking in one of the great outdoor culinary masterpieces, the crab boil. How this was not a part of my life until now remains a mystery.
Started out with some lovely large Dungeness. Sad, yes, but they’re just so tasty.
A bag of Zatarain’s for each pot.
Threw in the seasoning, a couple halved lemons and a splash of vinegar then waited for the water come to a boil (which takes forever on a camping stove) before adding the potatoes. Gave those about 10 minutes on their own then threw in the corn and sausage. Waited a little longer and dropped in the crabs, then threw in some shrimp for good measure. At least I think that’s how it went, at some point we may have gotten a bit impatient and thrown the last ten ingredients in all at once.
Manned up a Bloody Mary bar while we were waiting.
And threw some steamers on the bbq.
Snack time.
The best part is pouring off the liquid and dumping the boil out on the table. A gluttinous butter-smeared hour of hand feasting to follow.
Thanks again, Ellevyn!
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Feast or famine? If you happen to be vegetarian this can’t be of much interest to you, but to everyone else I say go for it while we’ve still got some sun out there as this is definitely an outside activity and a close proximity to water (or a tub of handi-wipes) is heartily recommended. That said, there’s not much else to worry about since the whole process is really simple and you just time things the same way you would for soup (ie. things that need the longest to cook go in first). You can pretty much add or subtract whatever you feel like, but I’d say Miss Evelyn hit it right on the mark: Corn, potatoes, kielbasa sausage, Dungeness crabs, Alaskan crab legs and a couple pounds of shrimp. Don’t forget to grab a loaf of two of sourdough bread, large chunks make wonderful napkins
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August 1st, 2008
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Got a last minute invite from Andy and Alana to get out of the city on the 4th and spend the weekend poolside at Andy’s parents house instead. Waffled over brunch then watched the fog start rolling in and hopped in the car. So glad we did.
Lounged in the heat for a couple hours then threw some dinner on the grill. A couple more glasses of wine and we were ready for the pyrotechnics.
Such a bummer they won’t let you buy bottle rockets anymore. Its just not as fun when they don’t get off the ground, though it does allow for some very talented hurdling.
Saved this dude from last year
Walked around the neighborhood watching flashes go off in people’s backyards. Reminded me of high school just cruising the quiet streets drinking beers in the warm air chatting with friends. Made all of us wonder if it was time to pool resources on a vacation home. So many awesome ranch style houses out there in the suburbs.
Back home for a little night swimming.
Pitched a tent in the yard and woke up to the sprinklers going off and pouring through the open windows.
Andy’s parents were out of town and everything felt like summer vacation.
Decided to do a bit of thrifting and weirdly enough ended up at the same place where Dave bought a pair of waterskis when we were on the way to Calaveras. If you’re ever out that way on the 120, stop by the Hope Chest, its filled with goodies.
Spent the rest of the afternoon playing wrinkle at a tiki bar called Minnie’s.
Lunch at Sno-White on the way home. Old drive-ins have the best signs. Every once in a while the food’s pretty good too.
Ever opened your window in a car wash? Go ahead and live a little.
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Armpit of California? We like to call it the elbow. Not sure if anyone’s planning a vacation to Modesto, but there’s no lack of things to do if you are, at least if you’re into thrifting, drinking and fruit stands. Technically we were staying in the burbs, but between the stretches of subdivisions and random shopping centers lay miles of orchards brimming with peaches, almonds and a host of other tasty goods. The thing I liked the most was how many old buildings and burger stands still remained, giving the city that small-town American Graffiti feel I love. Gee, I wonder why (don’t get excited, though, it was actually filmed in Petaluma even though its based on Lucas’ growing up in Modesto). Another interesting tidbit: The city’s slogan (which can be seen on the arch downtown) is officially “Water Wealth Contentment Health”, though that was actually the second place winner in the 1911 deciding contest. The original winner? “Nobody’s got Modesto’s goat”.
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July 23rd, 2008
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Went to meet The Kid at an A’s game a couple Fridays ago. We figured it’d be kind of crazy since they were playing against the Angels, but I still wasn’t prepared for the mass of people who turned out. The lesson? Get your tickets early and you won’t get crammed in the back with a bunch of squealing teens, or if you do, at least you’ll only have paid $9 for you seats instead of $25. Er. By the 4th inning we’d managed to switch a couple rows and downed a few beers and loosened up sufficiently to watch the A’s beat the holy Jesus out of those kids from Los Angeles. No kidding, I don’t think I’ve ever seen them play that well, it was amazing.
And then, just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any better, they invited everyone down to sit on the field and watch fireworks. I must’ve had a perma-grin the entire time.
Don’t know what it is about those lights, but everything looked wonderful and dream-like, like when you look at things while swimming through crystal clear water.
Shoes off, feet in the grass.
The whole thing was 80’s themed, which could’ve been formulaic and awful but instead let us rock out to Pat Benatar and Guns N’ Roses. I haven’t seen fireworks like that in ages, I swear it was better than the 4th of July.
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More, more, more? Looks like the next displays’ll be on Saturday Aug. 30th and Friday Sept. 19th, but there’s plenty of other promotions to keep us busy in between. Two dollar tickets and dollar dogs? Check it out.
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July 22nd, 2008
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Had the pleasure of staying a night at the Phoenix Hotel. Yeah, its right in a middle of the drunk-ranting-and-bleeding-from-the-ear-Larkin-and-Eddy-tenderloin but man are those suites sweet.
Never pass up a chance to swim in a heated pool.
Koperski stayed dry and sampled the oddly decent happy hour.
Totally pleasant, kind of retro-tiki decor and we even got a nice little balcony.
As it was Rolls’ birthday, there was a bit of entertaining.
And of course some posing.
And a bit of band photo-ing.
Not to mention the ballooning.
Sometimes things get a little silly around here.
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Will you take an “I don’t remember?” One of the nice things about the Phoenix is that its “rock-and-roll hotel” status means the folks who work there are used to all sorts of behavior and generally cut you some slack. Since Rolls, our lovely host, had informed them of our intentions beforehand, they didn’t hassle anyone coming in or out (you have to go through reception to get to the rooms) and let us romper room til after midnight before calling up and telling us to kindly shut the hell up and send everyone home. Ditto the niceness in the morning when we checked out slightly past noon and no weird noise/cleaning/3-day room aeration fee was tacked on to the bill. Thumbs up also on the bathroom’s mini-products and blowdryer, though I can’t vouch for the bed as I woke up face-planted on the floor with my heels still on and a roaring headache, wondering which son of a motherless goat ate half of my Saigon sandwich.
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July 20th, 2008
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Ladies and gentlemen, we have a contender.
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Bloody ‘ell? Suffice to say, I love Bloody Marys. Maybe its the salt, but I crave them all the time (and no, its not the boozehound in me I’ll drink a virgin one just as fast). I’ve lately been compiling a mental list of places that mix them up just right and unfortunately it seems like most bars either hate making them or think that you’re asking for a splash of crappy pre-made mix over a vodka on the rocks. Restaurants generally fare better and in the list of top fives the ones at Ti Couz (on 16th at Valencia) come in pretty near the top, tipping things in their favor even more for putting a nice tasty prawn on there for garnish. Not only is the garnish one of my favorite parts, its actually an important component when substituting a drink for meal. The more pickled veggies the happier I am, especially when things get slightly exotic, say green beans or okra, though (again) bars tend to lag when it comes to this aspect and I hate having to go to a restaurant to get a decently garnished Bloody Mary. So, to get to then end of this ramble, a couple Sundays ago Franklin and I stopped in at Elixer for a little pre-dinner libation and though the make-your-own-Bloody-Mary-bar they have earlier in the day was all cleaned up, the nice bartender was more than happy to stir one up for me. Now then, take another look at the picture above and what do you see hiding behind that straw? A nice crisp strip of bacon. Not only was the actual drink perfectly seasoned and delicious, but they managed to put a piece of meat in it. I could have cried.
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July 19th, 2008
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One nice foggy weekday Franklin and I ventured down to Fisherman’s Wharf for a bit of maritime history. First stop, the WWII submarine USS Pampanito.
It didn’t take long for me to figure out why I hadn’t visited her before. Nothing like being rocked side to side in a metal shoebox to make you slightly seasick. Add to that the knowledge that you’re actually underwater and give the whole thing a tinge of diesel smoke and I was right in the middle of a pre-pre-menopausal hot flash. Funny, I don’t think I’m too much of a baby, but certain combinations (hangover + Panamanian mountain bus, funnel cake + the Zipper) manage to put me out for hours.
Managed to keep it together long enough to look at all the neat gadgets. I can’t even imagine the know-how it must take to run a sub.
Franklin was a wealth of knowledge in the torpedo room, going so far as to play docent to a German lady and her kids. All went well until he tried to explain to the bewildered children how the torpedos moved through the water and ventured a “you know, like in the movies” to which mother dearest frostily replied, “we don’t watch those kinds of movies” making us feel like child-influencing barbarians. Poor kids, they’re probably being raised on re-runs of Friends. A life without “The Hunt For Red October” just seems so sad.
The galley full of naval china left me more envious than I’d like to talk about.
Finally hit a pocket of fresh air.
Out into the open and onward to the Hyde St Pier.
Home to my favorite little houseboat ever, the Lewis ark.
I’d sell off everything to live on this little lady, though if there was room I think most of my furniture would match perfectly (finally I find a name for my decorating taste: early 1900’s houseboat). Nothing sounds more amazing than being moored out in Belvedere Lagoon with a few dozen other gems and rowing over to dinner parties or just sitting on the porch with a cocktail watching the fish jump in the moon light.
I’d even settle for a land ark though it wouldn’t be quite the same.
When I own a house I’m building my sink just like this. The other side has a wooden counter on hinges that folds over the other half of the sink to create a giant cutting board. Genius.
My second favorite boat has to be the Eureka. Originally built in Tiburon in 1890 as the Ukiah, this ferryboat was designed for the San Francisco & North Pacific Railway to carry freight cars from Sausalito to the city (remember all that train history we learned from the Sunol Railway?). After WWI she was given a major overhaul and returned to use in 1923, this time as a passenger and auto ferry, a job she held until 1957.
I wish ferries still looked like this, it’d make even the simplest travel so romantic.
Took me three reads to realize the pet bandit was a party to a petting party not of the terrier kind.
The Eureka’s engine is the last working “walking beam” of its kind. It uses steam to drive a giant vertical piston up and down, then changes the up and down motion to a circular one with a connecting rod to the paddlewheels. Each of the paddlewheels is twenty-seven feet in diameter and would make twenty-four revolutions per minute.
Before construction of the Bay and Golden Gate bridges (opened 1936 and 1937 respectively) the only way to cross the bay was by boat. At one point the Southern Pacific Railroad operated as many as 42 ferryboats in the bay, transporting some 50 million passengers a year and the Ferry Building was second only to London’s Charing Cross Railway Station as the busiest passenger terminal in the world. On a side note, strange facts about the Bay bridge include a decree in 1872 by legendary San Franciscan Emperor Norton demanding the building of a trans-bay bridge (about 50 years before the rest of the population joined in), the “ribbon cutting” ceremony in 1936 in which then Governor Frank Merriam utilized not ribbon and silly scissors, but thick gold chains and a blowtorch, and the fact that the bridge was blessed by the man who went on to become Pope Pius XII. Oh, and its full and legal name is The James “Sunny Jim” Rolph Bridge in memorium of the Governor who condoned the last public lynching in California. Know who tried to bring the lynchers to trial after Sunny Jim passed away a year later in ‘34? Alameda County District Attorney Earl Warren. I think when it comes to political history the degrees of separation are well under six.
All that thinking deserves a crab and a couple of Anchor Steams.
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Remember the Maine? The San Francisco Maritime National Historical Park is both a mouthful and a wealth of informational wonders. Along with the ark and the Eureka, the Alma, Balclutha, Hercules, and C.A. Thayer are all board-able and explorable National Historical Landmarks, some of which are the last remaining of their kind. They’re all docked at the Hyde St Pier just past the craziness of Fisherman’s Wharf (which the Pampanito is right in the thick of) and its generally not terribly crowded in the late afternoons (the park is only open til 5:30). It costs $5 to board the boats (though the pier and visitor’s center are free for the looking) and if you think you might get to Yosemite or Death Valley or any other National Park this year its well worth it to buy a National Parks pass ($80 and good for 2 people for a year). I just got one for my birthday…
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July 15th, 2008
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First, let it be said that birthdays are weird. I’ve always felt this pressure to make the day memorable, while also (more so as I get older) not wanting to make too big a deal about it. The latter may actually have much to do with the former as there’s always the fear that you’ll throw a party and no one will come and then the birthday’s memorable in the not-so-good way. Perhaps due to my inability to make a decision one way or another, I tend towards the “birthday week” variation and just try to plan as much fun stuff as possible. This year it actually worked. Not only was there a host of outings, but the actual day of birth was fantastic, one of the best I’ve spent in years.
Oh, Happy Day.
Started it off with a trip to Swan Oyster Depot. I’d been wanting to go for ages, but kept forgetting or I’d think of it at 6 (closed) or Sunday afternoon (closed) or we’d be too hungry to deal with the line (perpetual). This time it was the only thing I wanted to do all day, line be damned. Luckily we missed most of the lunch crowd and only waited about half an hour, which is pretty amazing for a place that’s only got 20 or so seats. The place is tiny, just a long marble counter with stools for the patrons and white aproned guys chopping fish and shucking oysters on the other side, Anchor Steam on tap and everyone chatting between bites of crab and shrimp louie. Doesn’t seem like much has changed since it opened in 1912, except maybe the prices. I love it, I love it, I love it.
Didn’t see the crawdads til we’d already downed half the menu so we’ll have to try them next time. Did manage to fit in a dozen oysters, half a crab, smoked salmon with capers and an amazing salad with chunks of shrimp, fish and crab on it, not to mention the never-ending supply of thick, chewy sourdough bread. So wonderful, I think we could have continued eating for days.
I forgot how great good oysters are.
The second half of the day (aka the evening) was was no less phenomenal and food filled, this time centered around tasty grilled meats and some seriously awesome baseball. Maybe it was because we hadn’t played in such a long time but, damn that was fun. I even got the palm sweats and butterflies before my first at-bat.
I just love this photo.
Cousin Galen, Banger for life.
Rolls led some pre-game stretches. He then proceeded to nail half a dozen batters with his fast and crazy pitches. Silly me, I’d forgotten what it feels like to take a hardball to the shin.
Can’t believe how many people came out despite the winter-like freeze. Some said it was because they liked me, but I chalk it up to the power of baseball.
Plus night games always have a neat “Field Of Dreams” magic to them.
At some point I even got a double. God, I love playing baseball.
Thanks kids, that was swell.
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I get by? With a little help from my friends. I cannot say enough about Swan Oyster Depot, its just great. Its been owned by the same family since 1946 and they also sell fresh seafood to go. Take a trip up to Polk and California and see for yourself, there’ll probably be a line, but its worth every minute of the wait and once you’re inside no one tries to hustle you out or hurry you along. Its not cheap, but fseafood-wise its not actually expensive either and with three of us (Franklin, Rolls and Yours Truly) we were able to try a whole bunch of different plates. The combination salad is a must and I hear the chowder is also fantastic (though I’m a Manhattan-style girl myself). There’s beer and wine for the drinking folks and though they’re only open for “lunch” that manages to span from 8 am til 5:30 pm. As for the baseball side of things? Gonna try and organize more games at the same field (across from the Parkside) for sunny Sunday afternoons. Get psyched and come play!
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July 10th, 2008
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