I admit it. Like every other tourist, I overestimated temperatures in San Francisco.
If I had known how chilly the wind can be, I would have brought more than one pair of socks.
My one pair of socks underwent the sink laundry procedure this morning and is not dry yet.
My toes are exposed to the elements in my sandals and are complaining loudly at 8 am.
So when I head out for my bike ride at 10 am (still sans socks), I am not entirely sure whether it will turn into an extended trip or whether toe-freeze will force me to turn back after a few blocks.
Somewhere along the way I run into this. I must admit I'm not even sure whether I'm in Chinatown or Japantown.
When I approach Golden Gate Park ( I have no idea why it is called that; it is nowhere near GG) I start noticing that ominous white stuff again: The FOG is rearing its ugly head:
Good thing I brought a warm hoodie in my backpack. Naturally, that hoodie does not do much for my toes.
This time, the sight of windmills does not cause my ride to start galloping towards them (I left Rocinante in Vancouver), but signals to me that the ocean can not be far.
And there it is. It only takes a minute to lock up the bike and rip the sandals off my feet:
As is to be expected, and is confirmed by the poor toes dipped in the water, the Pacific is COLD!
|Parent with children|
Even though the sand is nicely warm and comforts my now sandal-free toes, the air away from the sand but in the fog feels chilly. It's also approaching noon and I haven't had breakfast yet. And most conveniently, there is a restaurant directly ahead of me.
The Beach Chalet Brewery & Restaurant
Invigorated and warmed by food, I keep cycling North. The flog seems to be lifting towards the NorthBut it's still present towards the South:
|Evidence that the white splotches on the local rocks are GUANO ;-)|
|Both Golden Gate and Golden Gate Bridge|
|Only traces of fog left|
|The red roof works too well with the ocean and sky blues!|
|Heading towards Crissy Field|
Which is more work that expected. Where the sand in Saint Malo is hard enough to cycle over, the sand here is like a stairwalker in a gym: Your feet sink in deep with every step.
My facial expression says: Give me an e-bike and a nice area to ride it though and life will be good !
Right after that I reach the Palace of Fine Arts. Built for the 1915 Panama Pacific Exhibition.