As the Fleetwood Mac
song says.....”you can go your own waaaaaay” and so we did. After we had
checked out and sneaked our big bags into the holding room behind reception,
the brothers parted ways. But only until the afternoon. James wanted to explore
SOMA and a few other places whilst I fancied another pier-side stroll, picking
up some seafood and jumping on the tram to get back to base. We agreed to meet
back at the hostel in the afternoon and then set off in opposite directions.
I headed back to the
north pier to have some peace and quiet amongst the joggers and tourists. It is
a strange feeling to be in a new city miles and miles away from home and on a
different continent. But it is an even stranger feeling when you are walking
the streets on your own, essentially just you and the locals, cut off from
everything you know. It was great just to blend in with the people on the
piers, all going about their own individual routines and businesses. I had
another wander through Pier 39, but basically only because I knew that there
were restrooms there. On my way back I saw a group of people crowding around at
the end of one of the jetties. I eased through the crowds and saw a large group
of seals sunning themselves on a floating platform. I had heard that Pier 39
hosted seals but assumed that they would be in the aquarium/sealife centre, and
as it was chargeable we knew that we would not be getting inside. So it was
good to see them for free and in their “natural” habitat. The next stop on my
little journey was to the seafood diners/cafes at Fishermans Wharf just down
the road. We had passed this place on our first day and I desperately wanted to
sample the delights that they had to offer, but we had just had lunch so I had
ear-marked it for another trip for another time. This was that other time, and
I picked out a shrimp and crab combo cocktail from one of the stalls, even
though they were all pretty much identical with the same menu and the same
prices. With no seating to speak of I perched myself on the kerb and sat down
to my seafood cocktail. And to quote Adam Richman...”oh my goodness”. It was
the freshest, most delicious thing I have tasted on the tour so far.
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| Frisco's finest seafood! |
I stopped off at a
little beach just down the way and sat there taking in the sights – the Golden
Gate bridge in the distance, the ships on the water, and a small dog seemingly
trying to dig to Australia. But there was a chilly wind blowing in off the
Pacific Ocean so I moved along to find the tram stop that would take me back to
Market Street. Following the map I managed to identify where the spot was and
when I arrived there I was greeted by the usual massive line of people all
waiting to get on. Now being of British stock I am more than happy to queue for
a little while, but there were just so many people waiting and they weren’t
even sending the full trams off. Deciding that I could possibly be there for a
while I mooched around and set off up Russian Hill, as we had done earlier in
our stay. We had seen the “crookedest street” and got some great pics, but we
had not walked down it, so I thought that this would give me something to do as
I weaved my way back to Market Street on foot. I had been advised to see the
Cheesecake Factory in Macy’s at Union Square so I was heading in that general
direction but taking a slightly different route than the one me and James had
taken two days before. I managed to find a beautiful little spot, possibly at
the very top of all the hills around the area and saw the most ridiculous road
sign you could see in San Francisco. It was warning “hill”. You don’t say! But
from that spot you could see way down to the piers and the CBD so I took some
shots, had a little quiet time and then set off for Union Square.
 |
| Hmmmm, yo don't say! |
I found the Macy’s
that contained the Cheesecake Factory and headed inside. Once I had found the
escalator to get up there (easier said than done!) I found a store that was almost
straight out of a Charlie and the Chocolate Factory film. All manner of
different styles and shapes of cheesecakes were available, but for over $5 a
slice I passed on the opportunity. I could have easily spent the $5 left over
from the tram fare that I didn’t use but I was still full from the seafood
cocktail from Fishermans Wharf. With time on my hands I headed back to the
hostel and booted up the laptop to update blogs, check out accommodation for LA
and a few other bits and bobs whilst waiting for James to show up.
The obligatory
footlong Subway for dinner/breakfast took unusually long to order due to a
language barrier and a huge order from the guy in front of me. But once the
first 6” sub had been scoffed back in the hostel we were off to the Greyhound
terminal to wait it out for our bus to San Diego. We knew the building well
from sleeping rough in it for 5 hours or so three days before, so we knew what
we were getting into. Pretty small but I think it wins the award for Best
Overall Greyhound Station as it was clean, secure (security guard searching
bags and not letting bums in) and very helpful staff. It would be our last US
Greyhound overnighter and it was tinged with sadness as it meant that our US
road trip would soon be coming to an end. But I would have the window seat so I
was reasonably happy with that.
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