Huzzah to Spats and Viva, a Cali Oddesy

As I mentioned in the padded thread a while back, I won two round trip tix for anywhere Frontier flies in the US. Since the significant other is out the door, I decided to just go to two places. I kind of wanted to see the East Coast, as I never have; but people suggested that would not be the best plan for August. I had been going through a business trial, a zoning hearing, and started a new W2 gig all over the course of July so I was a bit frazzled and had not had a chance to get away. So it came down to making two very short term trips without any agenda or previously known friends in the destination towns.

I went to two places that were in areas I had visited before, but did very different stuff while I was there.

First I went to San Francisco. Spats offered up a place to crash, so I took the tube up near his place near Oakland. We rode bikes to have sushi at this crazy little hole in the wall. It was seriously like an episode of Seinfeld with the Soup Na.z/ The food was outstanding once we got seated, and Spats’ girlfriend was cute and fun company. (dude, in case you did not know, she really really really really digs you) Spats had been there before and had a little repore going with the chef. He served up a couple of original creations that blew my socks off. Notably the spicy tuna roll. I fucking hate spicy tuna rolls, you can’t really taste the fish with so much mayo. But this dude took out some HUDGE chunks of Maguro and started just slicing it up. I’m like wow; he’s going to mince Maguro right here? But no. He sliced it up a bit more, and then started in on the Habenero. Minced a bit of that up, put in a few of his other secret ingredients, and ladled it into a large hand roll paper. The thing was not only one of the larger hand rolls I’ve seen, but it was all fish. Unbelievable. I’m glad I had one, as I was already full, and did not really like those in the past. I almost passed it up. We went to a tiki bar afterwards and had some strong boats drinks, and then rode back to his place.

The next morning Spats dropped me at a decent breakfast dinner and I was off on my way back to San Francisco. I was eating and struck up a convo someone at the counter; they said the ferry was a lot more fun than the bus I was going to take. So they dropped me at the station. I sailed back and enjoyed the ride a lot. It dropped me at Pier 39 right at a bike rental place where I grabbed some wheels. The dorks at Blazzing Saddles were kind of rude, but the bike worked fine other than rubbing gears. I told them I wanted a hard tail and they asked if I was doing any off road stuff. I said no; to which they replied I would not need a hard tail then. At a bike shop. Whatever. Then they handed me a hard tail. Morons.

I rode along the coast and through the Presidio where I took a good break and watched the open Ocean for a while. I rode down to Ocean Beach and hung out some more. I was getting hungry again. Spats had made notes of several good stops for grub, but they were all in the middle of the city, and I did not want to leave the beach yet. So I rode a little ways into the coast and found a spot to grab a burrito, it kind of sucked, but I went back down to the beach and was glad to be there. The plan was to ride into Golden Gate park and through the city, but I was having too much fun listening to the waves; which I have probably only heard a total of 24 hours in my whole life. So I rode well into the park; it was cool and all, but I had to go back to the beach. About this time I realized I left my sunscreen behind because of the plane ride and being over limits on fluids. It was so cloudy and cool in the morning I forgot about it. I bummed some from a hot chic in a parking lot, but it was too late. Burned. Dammit. Oh well. I decided to ride back by way of the Presidio again, which put more climbing back into the equation. This was supposed to be kind of low key weekend for exercise as I broke a few ribs about a week before this trip in a bike crash. So I was feeling pretty worked by the time I got to the top of the Presidio the second time, but it was worth it for the sights and sounds. From my perch high up on the cliff I got to watch the sun set over Golden Gate Bridge. I rode back down the curvy roads at high speed with my large pack on the rear wheel rack and down to the Wharf again where I returned the bike. I had stopped by Lombard street and was going to do it just for the fun, but it was bumper to bumper and did not look fun. Total distance elapsed looks to be about 25 miles or so.

From there I wandered into the city and found the first half way decent looking dive bar. The sign that said $2 Guinness lured me in. I had a few and started chatting with the couple next to me. We hung on the patio for a while and had a good time. Spats had told me to find Polk Gulch, and so I headed off that way. I walked 8 blocks up and down Filbert and felt like I had gone too far. It was actually just a block further, but I got diverted by Columbus ave. That sent me directly where Spats told me not to go, the Civic Center area. Being a scared white boy in the hood…Kidding. It was not my first choice of place to be, but I never really feared for my life. I was bummed that I was running out of time and did not land on Polk. I was starving again, so I walked back the way I came as I did not know where I had went wrong till the next day. The hills were kicking my ass after riding for 8 hours, and did not really have enough energy to figure out where I went wrong. I found a half way decent Thai place, which I am sure was no where near the reco Spats had given me. Time to leave, so I caught the tube back down to the airport, grabbed a hotel, crashed got up and came home.

Went to work for two days, and then left for San Diego.

Viva had offered up a place to crash, and I was stoked to know someone in town. This trip was even shorter than the first one. I had reservations about even going, but hey why not. The tickets were expiring, I don’t travel much, and I was up for an adventure. So I flew into SD mid afternoon and was digging the vibe as soon as I landed. I rode the Coaster to Encinitas, hopped off and walked directly to the beach about four blocks away. As luck would have it, Moonlight beach happens to be a very nice; one of my favorites from the whole trip. I hung out there for a bit, went over to a local bar, downed a beer, got directions to the beer store and grabbed a six pack on my way back to the beach. Called up Viva and he was on his way. Sat on the beach and watched my first ever sunset over the Ocean while sitting on sand. Serious, I am a slightly sheltered Denver dude. I’ve been in Cali a few times, but I think always have been doing something else right at sunset. After another few beers we headed out for some Sushi down the road. It was suiting me well. Not over the top like the SF joint, but decent and the “scenery” was impressive. After, we went to a funky little wine bar. I don’t think I’ve ever had wine on tap before. It was worthy for sure. Went back to Viva’s place and cracked another bottle of wine, when I promptly hit critical mass. I knew Viva was getting up early so I was content to lay down and pass out. Not one to commit a party foul, I had to down my glass of red wine for breakfast. Happy to be up early and get the most out of the day, we went to his local coffee shop where we hit on the waitress just a little bit. I don’t have too much game at 6 in the morning after whisky, multiple beers, and several glasses of high end wine. And wine for breakfast. Viva split and pointed me towards Solana Beach.

cont.

I found a cool beach area just a stones throw from the coffee shop so I walked down there with my coffee and just chilled for a while. I had the cobwebs out, and so I started walking towards Solana. Still feeling pretty rough from the broken ribs, and having ridden hard a couple of days ago I was a bit hesitant, but the scenery was outstanding. I found a shopette down a bit further and unfortunately had the worst huevos rancheros I have ever been confronted with. No green chile and with toast on the side…I downed it anyway and went to move on. Either the weird huevos or the wine was fucking with me. Stomach was on alert. I stopped at a second place and was going to get a beverage but they were not open yet. I decided to tough it out and get back to the scenery. I stopped at each different little beach area and cove, which meant I walked up and down hundreds of steep stairs. I was not feeling too hot, but the views and sounds empowering me to go on. Some of the coves were deserted and some were busy. There was a seriously cute lifeguard that I distracted for just a while. I walked along the beach as much as I could, but around the cliffs of Cardiff I had to keep going back to the street to get around. Not being too familiar with walking on a beach, I got surprised with an incoming wave just enough to douse one shoe, which I knew was going to be bad news.

The original plan was to borrow Viva’s bike, but the timing was so short it would not have worked well. It was good in a way, as I would not have been able to check out the beaches as much, walking for miles up and down the coast. After countless stairs and breaks with spectacular, world class scenery; I got to Solana, which by the map is about 5 miles. I was hungry again despite the sour stomach, and I was determined to find good food this time. I really wanted a spot right on the beach like the Chart house, but I had not seen one since then. I was surprised at how residential it was. (Same was true previously in Ocean Beach SF) I contemplated the deli at some random beach, but held out for decent grub. I walked several more blocks and caved, heading back for 101. I stopped in the Pacific Coast Grill and despite the boring name; I knew walking in that it would be good. I ordered the fish tacos and was impressed with the presentation. There was a large piece of Sea Bass grilled and placed in the center of Rice, black beans, Pico, and a gigantic scoop of fresh guac. Complimented with home made corn tortillas that were at least twice as thick as a standard, I was pretty happy. The beer was not going down well at all, and was slightly distracted by my bum stomach. That did not stop me from hitting on Megan M, she is worth a visit. I finished the yummy meal and downed the beer and headed off. Before leaving I changed my socks, but with the wet shoe there was not much to do. There happened to be a Cold Stone Creamery a few doors down, so a quick bowl of chocolate really hit the spot, and made me feel a lot better. Whenever I get a bum stomach, I always go for coffee and milk or sour cream etc. Way more preferable to me than chemical remedies.

Heading out, I went back down to the beach and chilled for a bit. I had been carrying two beers left over from the day before. They were kind of heavy, and I did not really anticipate drinking them since they would be getting warm and I was leaving that evening. I found a shady spot under a trellis on the beach and parked it for a long while. I thought about leaving the beers there, but again with the party foul thing, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it. I really wasn’t up for too much more walking, but I new some fantastic undiscovered place was right around the corner. Besides, the booby action was fairly limited at the beaches I had been at. So I again meandered down the beachfront. There were some very cool cliffs and waves, and then I came upon Del Mar. Here was titty beach. I sauntered on down the beach with the enhanced scenery and soaked it all in. I still had not found a restaurant on the beach, and then there it was. I was still kind of full from lunch, not wanting to re-fuck up my stomach with more booze, and so sipped an Arnold Palmer while watching bikini babe volleyball. I asked the hostess where the next Coaster stop was, and much to my dismay learned it was back in Solana. I was hoping the next place where the train would pick up was Del Mar.

I hung out a while longer and decided it was about time to head towards the airport. I walked out, spotted a life guard and asked how long the walk back would take. He estimated 30 minutes, which seemed okay to me, although I would have rather been sitting on the balcony still. Not more than a few steps later, this mongo blister appears out of my wet shoe. I suddenly have a grape sized tumor coming out of the bottom of my toe, still feel sketched out in the stomach; and I have a train, bus, and plane to catch in the next couple hours. Bummer.

Survival mode. I alter my step to preserve the blister as long as possible and then it explodes. I’ve had lots of blisters, but not so many rupturing while in a mandatory walk. I tough it out for what should have been 30 minutes; and spot a couple of people on the side of the road. I ask how much further it is and to my horror they tell me about half an hour or so. Being petite little women they were not too inclined to let this very sweaty obvious non local (possible transient) in their car. Now I’m pissed and with no recourse. I could have flagged a different ride, but the adrenaline kicked in and I just said fuck it, let’s go. Complete 180 of emotion as I cross a few more streets and see the welcome to Solana Beach sign. I didn’t think it was that far, but the pain was blowing things out of proportion. I found the signs for the Coaster and follow, only to lose them again. I keep on rolling and finally hit the ticket booth.

Jumping on the train, I find it busy with worker bees going home. I walk down the isle to find an open 12 pack with a hat on a seat. I figure this guy has to be good people, so I take a seat there. Padres fan gets back and informs me I am in his seat. No worries, I hop in the one cross over. He cracks a beer and passes me one. Now, I’ve drank lots of beers fast. I’ve watched other people drink faster than me. For not being in a contest, this guy had to be the fastest drinker I have ever seen. I shit you not. I did not really notice on the first beer, but I could have sworn he only took three sips. The second beer is gone before I even have mine topped off, and so now I am interested. I watch on the third beer, and sure as shit, he is only taking three pulls off of the 12 ounce can. I watch on the fourth and fifth beer just to be sure. Keep in mind that this is a 20 minute train ride. I’m impressed when the sixth beer descends his gullet as I finish my first. I could have been better competition on a different day, but wow.

Arriving at the airport with enough time to chill, I find a cool spot in the shade to watch another sunset. This one was not while sitting in sand, and I was sad to be leaving, but it was a pretty damn sweet sunset. There were more clouds and they lit up brilliantly. It was so moving that I decided I should celebrate with one of the beers in my pack. Bolstered by the Padres fan and the knowledge that most all of my work was done for the day, the second one went down smooth.

Coffee with cream on the plane, and I was almost human again.



Thanks very much to my hosts and tour guides.

I was lucky to see some sights that reaffirmed my need to travel. I tend to be a pretty local kind of guy other than trips to the mtns most every snow storm and for frequent mtn bike rides. Not sure I could live in Cali full time, but a tiny crash pad there would be pretty damn cool. If only that cute brunette on the plane from SF would call, I just might be able to make that happen.


Cheers.

Awesome man! Sounds just like how I like to travel. No plans, just wander. I laughed at your beach walking, sounds so fucking deja vu. :)