The drive from Lake Tahoe to San Francisco is a beautiful one; first through the eastern Sierras then fertile irrigated farm valleys to the stunning Pacific Bay. Just don’t try make that 200 mile drive on Labor Day! The holiday traffic jams began just outside of Tahoe and didn’t let up much until well past Sacramento. I’ve gotta admit, though, from the vantage point of our seats up high in the motor coach, you see lots of interesting things in the cars passing by out the window.
San Francisco looks particularly lovely when crossing the Bay Bridge at twilight and positively spectacular from the bay itself .
The obligitory shot of the Golden Gate Bridge..which still looks neat even when the ever present fog is shrouding the top.
That's Alcatraz Island from our Neptune Palace dining room for lunch.
Some of our group waitng to board the Bay excursion boat
But while some write beautiful songs about this town I don’t find it all that much to write home about. There are just too many people crammed into too small a peninsula. Residents spend half their lives in their cars stuck in traffic or driving around in circles waiting for a parking spot to open up out outside their over priced condos that require mountain climbing gear to reach the front door. Don’t get me wrong, it’s a terrific place to visit and experience cultures and cuisines that are “foreign” to most of us. I just need a little more breathing room. For example, when we took our ride aboard the old fashioned cable car this morning, all the seats were taken and Linda and I wound up hanging on the running board..which was great fun, but the conductor kept saying to potential passengers at every intersection “room for a couple more just squeeze in here and hang on.” For a big guy who takes Prozac for panic attacks, it was a little unnerving.
"Hey, there's always room for a couple more."
A view of the famous 18th hole at Pebble.
Tomorrow we board a smaller coach which can better negotiate the challenging and unforgettable twists and turns of scenic highway 1. We’ll then rendezvous with our regular Holiday Vacations coach at Hearst Castle where we get the royal tour of the place.
I’ll be looking for a charred sled called “Rosebud”..but suppose since William Randolph Hearst wasn’t a big fan of the fictitious Charles Foster Kane or his creator, Orson Welles…We’ll have to settle for the statuary and fountains.
So, as they say here in California…tah tah for now and, as always…wish you were here!