Travels with Will

More from my journal of 2004:

My son and I traveled to the coast north of San Francisco, Point Reyes.

That area of the coast is prone to high thick fogs. The mood could be considered dreary. On the other hand it is also spectacular and at the same time contemplative. I was not feeling particularly contemplative. More than anything else I was glad to be there and glad to be with my son. It was more than just a change of scene from the recently finished losing battle back in the Midwest. I was just glad to be there.

Driving up to the point we passed from warm sun and the intensely blue sky of inland California to the chill fog and wind of the northern coast. We passed through Napa and Sonoma counties. There was mile after mile of vineyards.

The wind was blustery on the point. The fog hung one hundred feet or so above our heads which explains why the light is halfway down the cliff. The surf crashed on the rocks below drowning out most other sounds.

We spent time exploring the light, enjoying the vistas… and then came the walk back to the top of the cliff from the lighthouse. Will virtually danced up the 300 plus steps. I, on the other hand, had a serious ringing in my ears before I was half way up. A little further on the pain in my chest was approaching cardiac proportions. Will had the decency not to laugh at his de-conditioned father.

When at last this Everest, at least to me, had been conquered, we drove around the national park lands and then back to our hotel. The hotel was a gem, The Point Reyes Lodge. Its one negative was the fact that it was about a hundred yards from the famed San Andreas Fault. A somewhat unnerving consideration for this flatlander. I did not come to know that until shortly before we left. The Lodge had gardens with an enormous variety of flowers which I thoroughly enjoyed.

The grounds were spacious. A small stream ran between the hotel grounds and the federal land beyond on the Point Reyes reserve. Cattle grazed in an adjacent pasture. There was a large variety of song birds, well fed by the hotel owners and humming birds. A more serene spot would be hard to imagine.

A macro lens and some lovely gardening made for very nice pictures. Composing those pictures was therapeutic. I spent a good deal of time in the garden at the Point Reyes Lodge.

After exploring the Point Reyes area, Will and I set off for San Francisco. We headed south on the PCH, the Pacific Coast Highway, the famous Route 1. Our “ride” was a late model Mercedes sedan with an adjustable suspension, a feature I was going to come to value. The PCH is primitive in that part of California. It often is cut out of the cliff faces with precipitous drops to the rocks and surf 200 to 300 feet below.

Will was at the wheel and approached the challenge with an élan worthy of a grand prix driver. I remember saying several times, “We are all going to die.” Will would chuckle as we rocketed around the next curve and into another bank of fog, and I enjoyed the unnerving view out the passenger window of waves crashing on boulders far below.

To my surprise and relief we lived. Muir Beach and Muir Woods awaited us, and then my beloved San Francisco. “Highway to Hell” by AC/DC boomed from the speakers of the car stereo. It was not exactly the sort of tune I might have picked, but damn, it was cool. I loved it.

We passed through the tunnel at Sausalito and immediately the tops of the towers of the Golden Gate Bridge appeared rising over a coastal hill. It is a sight of which I never tire.

If there is a scene more stunning than the Golden Gate Bridge, I do not know what it is. The bridge itself is majestic, but so are the George Washington and Verazano Narrows in New York. It is not the signal red paint that makes the Golden Gate stand out. What makes the Golden Gate unique is its setting.
To the north are the Marin Headlands (about which more will be said and pictured later) and to the south is the Presidio of San Francisco. Both at one time were major military installations designed to protect San Francisco Harbor from seaborne menaces. They are now parks, either of the City in the case of the Presidio or the Golden Gate National Park in the case of the Headlands. Between these two huge parks is framed the bridge. To either side of the bridge is the Pacific Ocean and San Francisco Bay.

The bridge and its setting combine in a harmony of nature and technology that is seldom seen. It fits. It is difficult to imagine that narrows without the bridge.

My somewhat jaded son feels the same.

And, so, to the dulcet tones of AC/DC, we entered San Francisco over a wonder of the world.