BART, barbecued filet mignon, and a gadget/water fountain/LED-studded jacuzzi in Hayward; baby turkeys and almost hitting a startled vulture with my bike; distressingly avant-garde ballet in Stern Grove, tandem bikes in Golden Gate park followed by spicy hot chocolate in Pacific Heights; smokey air and gibbous moons like blood oranges; river trips, toe-curious fish, deep and chilly water, skinny dipping and cliff jumping in a private sanctuary spotted on Google’s satellite maps; Troy Tuesday at Laszlo with amazing crab tostadas, Ratatat and sauntering home with bagged-up Sparks, walking miles around the Mission District in search of the perfect necklace; B movies and glasses full of Baby Guinness; baby fawns and picking blackberries; cycling and cycling and hill climbing and finally installing a second bottle cage so I don’t get dehydrated in the oppressive heat; seeing the milky way on after-dinner walks and finally learning to consistently locate Polaris; receiving bourbon in the mail that’s so good my brain stutters; a proper picnic dinner—baguette, camembert, goat cheese with herbs, prosciutto, garlic feta orzo, and an olive medley—in the park with cherries and a good Cabernet.
I’m a month late, but the Bay to Breakers photos are all finally up. I apologize for the wait. It’s difficult to put into words the pandemonium we marched through, so I’ll just let those pictures and this brief, low-res video do the talking:
I don’t recall having much trouble while backpacking above 10,000 ft last August, but Nevada City’s modest elevation was killing me today when I pulled my bike out of storage and took it for a ten mile spin. It might have been due in part to the head cold I just put behind me, but damn were my lungs on fire. Back at it tomorrow, though—I’ve been craving pedal action like a suburban dropout craves Tina, and I’ll take what I can get.
Despite the punishing jet lag, I had a blast dilly-dallying in SF for a couple nights after my return flight from Auckland. Within two hours of running the gauntlet at customs I was drinking noon-time beers with Kevin and the lil’ bro at their place of employ, and things only got better from there. Still on the To Do list: many return trips to Latin America Club, playing with Troy’s new fixie, drinking the Rambow boys under the table, and hopefully a house party or two with Mac’s new co-workers.
The return to my home town has been a bit surreal thus far, but there are a couple of exciting things coming up that should prove thoroughly engaging. Meanwhile, I’m like a walking blizzard as the too-good-to-be-true tan flees my body with traitorous assistance from the dry mountain air.
As I predicted, San Francisco was fantastic. Our chariot left San Diego around 9pm and we hit Annie’s party in LA a couple hours later. Those of us who were not driving helped ourselves to a couple beers while we caught up with old friends (hadn’t seen Eugene since Troy’s going away party, and now he’s off to host Southeast Asia’s version of Next Top Rock Band). Both potty breaks on the drive north involved all three occupants of the car simultaneously clamoring out of the vehicle and onto the side of an off-ramp, yelling or grunting the entire time.
Troy treated us to an amazing dinner at Delfina on Saturday night (I’ve never had more tender, delicious lamb, and I worry that I never will again), and Jasmine and I had delicious baked goods from Tartine for breakfast on Monday. Both eateries are good reasons to fall in love with the Mission District.
Much love for everyone who joined us at Casanova Lounge to usher in the new year. I hope you all had as much fun as I did.
Max’s bachelor party, held on the weekend of the 11th, went off without a hitch. The food, drink, and entertainment in SF were all extremely gratifying, and if I were a wealthy man I would spend each weekend in a different city, alternating between ardent hedonism and mellow reflection as we did during our time on the bay. Thanks again to Troy and Mac for towing us around on Sunday; I won’t soon forget Zeitgeist, its Bloody Marys and the Tamale Lady.
Four days after our return, Mike and I drove to Bishop and spent five sweaty days backpacking through Inyo National Forest with Mike’s dad and co. We camped on the shores of Royce Lake, Vee Lake and Honeymoon Lake during our circuit, with a climb to the top of Royce Peak thrown in for good measure. We dove into a compact lake comprised of melted snow at 12,000 feet—the coldest bath I ever hope to take—and were later nearly landed on by a squawking CHP helicopter as we strode back towards civilization. Photos are forthcoming. It was good to see the Milky Way again, let alone sleep beneath it and nothing else.
Now it’s time to go rough up some keg of Karl Strauss with the guys and see where the rest of the night takes us. Summer is drawing to a close and we dare not squander it.
