day 3 – tuesday, october 15
Yesterday it was the parrotless Telegraph Hill and today it’s Tank Hill. In a delightful change from yesterday, we are traveling by car – and if nothing else, that makes sightseeing of hills that have names a far sight easier. Continue reading
day 2 – monday, october 15
We left Santa Cruz yesterday, heading to Oakland via Los Gatos and Santa Clara. Los Gatos to check out the final day of the local Burning Man. Many twists and turns off the beaten track up narrow, winding roads, but to no avail. Burning Man was not to be found. As we turned Dexy around to weave our way back to the highway, I was reminded of Jack Kerouac coming down from San Francisco to visit Neal and Carolyn Cassady on one of these roads that winds among the foothills. Unlike us, he probably knew where he was going. Continue reading
day 1 – sunday, october 7
Bridget and I are driving south out of Sonoma wine country, out on Hwy 101. As we get closer to San Francisco, we see a sign for the San Anselmo exit. I’ve got Van’s Hard Nose The Highway in Dexy’s CD player and on comes “Snow In San Anselmo.” I look longingly to the west, past San Anselmo, thinking another time I’d like to do that Hwy 1 drive north out of San Francisco, through Sausalito and Marin City and up along the Coast Highway, as far north as that little town of Westport – which we’d passed through three days ago – that looked like a picture postcard from Ireland. Ah, but that’s for another day. Today is all about San Francisco and the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival. Continue reading
Sunday morning, we wake up to a sunny day in Sonoma wine country and begin it with a hearty breakfast in Tina’s kitchen. Bridget and I are packing up and getting ready to go, on our way to Santa Cruz. With a pit stop on the way – we just found out yesterday that the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass festival is on this afternoon at Golden Gate Park in San Francisco, and it’s right on the way – we’ve simply got to go; Santa Cruz will just have to wait for a few hours. Tina and Maurice and we two are going to meet up at Carol and Art’s and head to the festival from there. Continue reading
redwood trees
It’s another sunny day on Hwy 101 as we leave Brookings, Oregon, and drive the seven miles to the California border. The landscape loses a bit of its luster here at the top of California, at least where 101 traces its path through countryside away from the ocean on our right and the Redwoods off in the distance on our left. But a short way south of Crescent City, the road takes us through Redwood National Park for a few miles and out the other side and on south to Pepperwood, where the sign says “Avenue of the Giants.” Originally built in the 1880s as a wagon and stagecoach road, this scenic highway runs parallel to 101 for 32 miles through Humboldt Redwoods State Park. It’s majestic. Continue reading
We’ve carved out 3 1/2 days to see the coast of Oregon from top to bottom. Nowhere near enough time to explore all there is to see along the way and get to know the place. But, fortunately, what there is plenty of is staring out the passenger side window at the views of the ocean – changing all the time. Every two miles I want to stop and soak up the scene, but Bridget, the hard-nosed driver, says no can do if we’re going to make it to Brookings by our appointed time. We stop to eat and sleep and poke our noses into a couple of lighthouses along the way. In the end, the pictures tell the story. Continue reading
We’ve got a four-night stay in Portland – again at another airbnb – this time a fully equipped basement apartment up in the northeast area of town. It’s an “in” night, one for watching of few episodes of “Mad Men,” and while I caught up on some work, Bridget figured out our plan of attack on Portland in the upcoming days. All I need to do is check out Powell’s Bookstore sometime and go see Willy Porter on Friday night; other than that, my schedule is free. Continue reading
From Maryhill, Washington, it’s over the Columbia River to Biggs on the Oregon side, and just a few miles ahead, where the Deschutes River empties into the Columbia, we’re in the Gorge – a river canyon that descends to 4,000 feet in places and extends from here all the way to Portland. Continue reading
A few quiet days in Birch Bay were all we needed – Bridget to finally get out from under the weather, and while she did that, I got to spend some quality time with Ron and Linda and Agnes and Chris – enjoying good food and drink (wine, wine and more wine, delicious donated salmon, and papples – the latest in fine fruits, being a cross between pears and apple), but more than that – time spent with friends is good for the soul – all the laughter over stories shared. The best things in life do come for free. Continue reading
Lo and behold, we’re in the right place on the right day. It’s Monday, September 17, and we’ve made it to Seattle. Continue reading