Flying Fish and Flying Saucers
This is not one of those lazy lie-in kind of holidays. I’m up early to start my Seattle explorations. My first stop is Pike Place Market, which is just across the road from the hostel. It’s a bustling grower’s market, also known for its fresh fish and art and craft products. There is a famous fresh fish stand where the shop attendants throw large fish between the display counter and the weighing station, which draws a crowd. The market atmosphere extends well beyond the actual market area, so that keeps me entertained until lunch time.
I walk down to Pioneer Square, which is supposed to be the touristy part of Seattle, with old red brick buildings. I think I missed it as I only see one vaguely nice street and the rest is workshops and garages. I walk along the harbor, which is mostly ferry piers and cruise terminals, rubbing in the fact that I haven’t been able to get on a cruise to Alaska. That’s the one thing I’ve missed by travelling alone – they wanted to charge me double for the cabin as they are minimum two people. The waterfront area here could be beautiful, but most of the views are blocked by buildings.
At the far end of the harbour is the Olympic Sculpture Park. It is a small slice of greenery with some large, mostly metallic sculptures. It’s quite nice, but could do with more explanation. Up the hill a few more blocks is the Seattle Center, built for The Century 21 Exposition – also known as the Seattle World's Fair – back in 1962. This houses the Space Needle, the iconic Seattle tower. It is also part amusement park, part museum district. I decide to check out the Science Fiction Museum, which is actually fascinating, plugging straight in to my geeky side. It gives a history of science fiction writing and has displays of books, posters, costumes and props from some of the big films and TV shows, like the captain’s chair from the Enterprise space ship on Star Trek and a storm trooper outfit from Star Wars. It is a bit of a stroll down memory lane, taking me back to my high school sci-fi and fantasy reading days.
The ticket includes entry to the Experience Music Project, a hands-on music museum. I wander into a few of the exhibits, but nothing catches my eye and my feet are hurting, so I decide a coffee and rest are in order before heading back into town.
It’s late by the time I get back, so I drop in to the Vietnamese restaurant next door. I have spring rolls and a main of teriyaki chicken, which is not exactly Vietnamese, but never mind.
Smash 'em up roller derby
Seattle is not floating my boat and I think I’ve seen most of the main points of interest, so I try and organise my next stop, San Francisco. As it’s so last minute, I can’t get accommodation, so resign myself to one more day in Seattle. I use most of it as planning time, settling in to a coffee shop and getting everything booked for the next few days. I also have to move rooms at the hostel, so I pack everything and put it in storage until the afternoon.
For lunch, I walk past the first ever Starbucks to a little alley near the market and have a simple tomato and basil soup. I try a few hairdressers in the hopes of a cheap haircut but they’re all above my budget so I will have to put up with bad hair.
My friend’s husband, Kurt, asks if I’d be interested in going along to a roller derby game he is refereeing in Tacoma. I’m in. The roller derby is amazing. It is originally from the 1930s and has taken off again over the last ten years or so. It is only for women and teams are made up of five people – four blockers and one jammer. The blockers of both teams start skating in one direction around the rink and the jammers start 10 seconds later. They have to make their way through the pack while the opposing team tries to ram them out (no elbows, no tripping, but a body slam is fine), then overtake again to score. It's quite brutal, but entertaining. The teams all have strange names, like the Marauding Molly’s (pirate theme), the Trampires (Vampire theme), Carnevil and the Hellbound Homewreckers. The women wear costumes of a kind – they have team colours and don short skirts. Additions like torn tights remind me of the 80s. They also each have an alias they play under. Some from the games I watched include Suzi 9 Millimetre, Rudy Ruption, Dakota D.Stroya and Miss Direction. My derby name would be either Eve Illdoer or Lotta Payne. Kurt’s out on the track refereeing, so I’m on my own, but I enjoy the games. The only negative is that there’s only one food option and it’s hot dogs. I wash one down with a root beer.
The Scent of Seals
Seattle impresses me with the public transport system – there are public buses that go from right by the hostel all the way to the airport at a grand cost of $1.75. Bonus. I start chatting to the gentleman in front of me in the coffee queue who generously pays for my coffee and tells me to pay it forward – if I meet an American travelling in Australia I can repay the debt. All’s fine with the flight and the transport at the other end is easy to navigate too – the BART (Bay Area Rapid Transit) gets me within walking distance of the hostel – although only just. It’s quite a hike with a heavy rucksack.
I check into the hostel which costs me more than expected. In fact, I am paying the four-person dorm price for a dorm with 11 people crammed into it. I’m not overjoyed at this and mention it to the management, who completely shrug it off. Not a good start. I let it fly and go to see what kind of impression San Francisco is going to make on me, accommodation aside.
I catch a tram down to the waterfront to organise a trip to Alcatraz. It’s a scenic ride through the city. All of the standard Alcatraz cruises are sold out for at least 10 days, and the night tour is sold out for a month, so I pay the extra for a tour ticket combined with Angel Island on Wednesday.
I wander along to Pier 39, which has a carnival atmosphere – there are loads of people milling around with a real summer holiday vibe. The sun is shining, although it’s not overly warm. Round the pier there are some pontoons with a colony of sea lions lazing across them. There are literally hundreds of them, so you can smell them when you get near the area. They lie close together and every now and then one will flop around and bellow, or roll into the water for a quick dip. The rest just cuddle up nice and close and snooze.
I walk further round the bay and into the city to see the world’s windiest street. It weaves from left to right on a hill, with hairpin bends on each side, for about half a block. I start walking up to it, then realise the view is probably better from where I am, as I can see the line of cars creeping through the curves.
My next stop is Coit Tower, from which there are 360 degree views of the city. From the base of the tower you can see the fog line creeping over the city. Inside, there are murals on the walls depicting life in California, including agricultural and city scenes. One of the city scenes makes me laugh as when you look closely, you can see a man being mugged at the front of the painting, and another who has been run down by a car at the top. I wonder if this is a realistic representation of San Francisco.
There is a queue to the elevator and I end up chatting with the young guy behind me, who is visiting from Chicago. After we’ve admired the views, we walk a few blocks together. He recommends a restaurant called The Stinking Rose and shows me where it is. It is a garlic restaurant. It looks great and I plan to treat myself to a meal there one night, preferably with someone else if I can make friends.
I walk past the Transamerica Pyramid, an office building that distinctively tapers to a point at the top, and through part of Chinatown, which is huge. Close to the hostel I find a collection of Thai restaurants and stop for dinner. There are two Australian ladies sitting at the table next to me, so we end up in conversation and one of them shares her calamari with me. I must look like I need feeding.
Cycling San Francisco
I get up early yet again so I can throw some washing in the hostel machines – they are only available before 9am and after 4pm. Not wanting to tumble dry my clothes makes washing complicated as I need to choose places where I’m staying long enough for them to dry. Hostels are difficult as you can’t string your clothes around a shared room, but I’ve come up with a solution. This hostel has curtains around each of the beds, so there is a pole running parallel to the ceiling (I’m on the top bunk). I buy some coat hangers and hang my wet clothes along the rail to dry.
There is a bicycle hire place down an alley across the road, so I sort a bike for the day. Riding in the city is a little scary, but whenever it gets to dodgy I jump off the bike and wheel it along the pavement. Eventually I arrive at the Golden Gate Park, which is huge and has cycling lanes on the road. I take a small detour to a Japanese tea house and end up completely lost. Given that the park is quite a few kilometers square, I’m concerned I could be cycling in circles all day. Luckily, I find a sign at the right time and manage to pop out the far end of the park. I reward myself with a coffee from a cafe by a desolate-looking beach. With the fog, most things in San Francisco look desolate. The tables are all taken inside, so I sit on the bench outside, then decide it might be nice to sip my coffee in a sheltered spot on one of the sand dunes. I cross two streets, pass several homeless people and walk up the hill, only to realise I have left the bike helmet on the bench. I debate whether I can pretend to the rental people that I never had a helmet in the first place, but it’s probably a long shot. I run back down the hill and across the streets. It’s my lucky day. The helmet is still there. By now my coffee is lukewarm, so I gulp it down and climb back on the bike.
There is a bike path right by the wide beach. In the water there is a little island called Seal Rock. It is far enough that you can barely make out the seals, but with the wind gusting the right way, you can smell them. The nice flat path then turns into an extended hill and I have to get off and walk. At the top, down a small path, there is a lookout where I catch my first glimpse of the Golden Gate Bridge. That’s where I’m ultimately heading and it looks a horribly long way away. I get a little bit lost again trying to find my way to the next park, but get there in the end. This one houses a golf course and The Palace of the Legion of Honour. All I know about this is that it is part of the Art Museum. When I walk up to the palace, I discover it has an open courtyard that houses Rodin’s statue of The Thinker. Impressive.
Even more impressive is the downhill section I now coast through at high speed. All good things come to an end though, and the end of this, of course, is another hill. It is a gradual slope, so I start scrolling down through the gears, but it goes forever. I am defeated. I clamber off the bike and wheel it over to an opening in the barriers onto a dirt track on the side of the road. I push the bike up the long, long hill, only to find when it flattens out, there is no corresponding barrier opening, so I have to lift the bike over the barrier, then climb over myself to get back to my cycling. After another long downhill, I find myself at the entrance to the Golden Gate Bridge.
The bridge is half-shrouded in fog that swirls around the top arches. Looking back at the city, you can see a clear line where the fog covers the top of the buildings, then turns to blue skies a few feet further up. This means the sun can’t break through, and the wind is gusting over the bridge, so I am freezing. The views are spectacular though, and the Golden Gate Bridge is so iconic that this is a special moment. Over the other side of the bridge there is no fog, but the wind is so strong it nearly pushes me back up the hill that descends into Sausaulito.
Sausaulito is a lovely village area that has its own weather system, independent of San Francisco. The fog still climbs over the hills at the back of the town, but it dissipates there, so the town itself is sunny. So many people cycle the bridge that there are designated bike parking lots, full of hired bicycles. I stop for a late lunch, which is a disappointingly dry foccacia pesto chicken sandwich. It’s a huge serving, so I take half of it back to the hostel, even though I don’t want to eat any more of it. I palm it off to a hungry backpacker in the evening.
After walking around Sausaulito, I wheel my bike onto the ferry, where I have to drag it up the internal stairs and park it near some of the passenger seats, as the exit is on this level. The ferry takes me all the way back to the Ferry Building, near where I was yesterday. From there, it’s a short cycle back to the hostel.
For dinner I choose a Japanese restaurant. The chefs are impressed with my Japanese, as are the couples sitting at the counter on either side of me, which serves as an ice breaker, so we all end up talking. It’s nice to have a little company after a day alone.
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