Living in San Francisco. I can explore and explore and explore and never run out of places to see or grub to eat or coffee to drink or people to meet or things to do. Still though, from time to time I really miss the road. Driving 8 hours through bumfuck nowhere, blasting mix-CDs with the windows down, with no clue what is really in store in the next city or state you encounter. Those were nice times.

Great short-term solution = weekend road trip!

My adventure cohorts, Dakota and Tara, and I had a loosely assembled agenda: go see David Bazan in some random city that starts with a V, then continue driving southward to Hermosa Beach to stay with Dakota’s friend Brian.

That’s about it. So we packed ourselves into a rental car and headed southward.

First stop: Santa Cruz Boardwalk. Dakota and Tara wanted to ride rollercoasters and eat ice cream.

I happened to be battling one of the more intense hangovers of my lifetime, so I wasn’t particularly interested in either. I bought a hot dog (it’s what my hangover wanted at the time), took a seat at the sidelines and silently observed the chaos.

We wandered around for a bit, snapped some shots on the beach, & prepared to head on our way.

We arrived in the small city that starts with a V by nightfall. The venue was a lovely place. A lovely empty place. We were wondering if we were going to be the only ones here.

Sure enough, it filled out, but we easily weasled our way to the very front to watch David Bazan, one of my favorite songwriters of all time, serenade us from three feet away. One of the better moments of my life.

Being in the front row with a fixed 85 mm lens, I could basically take photos that framed his forehead only. I could have backed a few feet up into the crowd to get some better shots. It was definitely one of those moments where you decide whether you would rather have the better experience or a better documentation of your experience. For once, I chose the former.

So then we drove to Hermosa Beach. It was another 4 hours or so to drive. It was also midnight. But we wanted to do it anyway. So off we went.

We arrived in Hermosa at approx. 4 am. We tried to contact our host, as he told us to call him when we arrived. No response. Dakota proposes we sleep in the car.

Nope. Didn’t come all the way to SoCal to sleep in a damn car. So we decide to go find the apartment he described for us. We find said apartment. We knock. No answer. So… we try the door. It is open. We sneak inside.

We are not entirely certain that this is the right apartment. We could possibly be breaking into a strangers home. We check a utility bill on the counter. Not in her friend’s name. Fantastic.

The bedroom doors are open. Dakota peers in bedroom one to see if her friend happens to be sleeping in it. Definitely not her friend. Even better. I convince the girls to hold on and at least let me charge my phone before we have to run away.

Fortunately, in the second bedroom we found our friend Brian. I had already set up my bedpallate on the floor. I didn’t care whose apartment we had invaded, I was going to sleep in it.

And so we did.

We all woke up late. Brian conveniently lives a block from the ocean, so we took a quick walk down the beach, ate some brunch, then headed back to prepare for our trek home.

Only a quick 9-hour trek home. This may be a chore to some, but I absolutely love the road, so I was elated. Not to mention… we’re driving up the coast of California. There could be worse ways to spend your day.

Hooray roadtrips!

Stories + photos from my most recent trip to San Francisco.

Kate and I head out bright and early to catch out 6 a.m. flight to Houston, TX. I have no recollection of it, as I passed out immediately once I was seated on the plane. Apparently free breakfast was offered to me. I had no idea.

We arrive in Houston. Our flight is delayed about an hour. No problem. We wander the airport for a while looking for a sufficient breakfast. I decide to purchase a breakfast stromboli. I always hate airport breakfast stromboli, but I always seem to subject myself to it whenever I have the opportunity. Can’t explain it.

Anyway. It’s about time to head to the gate. We arrive, smile at the desk attendant, and take a seat in the waiting area. I casually observe that the area is pretty empty, but we don’t think much of it. We read and play with our cameras for a while. Waiting room is still empty. Kate decides to check in with the desk attendant. Desk attendant freaks out on us. Apparently they had already boarded the gate and closed things up a while ago. And apparently it is not her job to question people that are obviously approaching and waiting on a gate, sitting within a five foot radius of her for the past 10 minutes. We tell her to chill out and let us on the plane. She complies.

Plane ride number two. I pass out again immediately, apparently missing yet another offering of free breakfast.

I wake up a few hours later to warnings that we will be approaching turbulence, perhaps due to the gargantuan storm covering the entire state of California. No biggie. We’ve all handled turbulence before.

Next thing I know, I am barfing into a bag like a damn six year old. People loved it.

We finally land, head to baggage claim to collect our goods, and prepare to leave, when Kate realizes she left her digital camera on the plane. How clever. I decide to sit on the floor in baggage claim while Kate goes to find gate passes to reenter the terminal and rescue her camera.

Camera is retrieved. We get the fuck out of the airport and hop on the train toward the city.

By the time we get off the train at Powell Station, the giant storm had completely cleared. I am famished, and am really craving vegan Asian cuisine, particularly from Golden Era. It’s really the only vegan Asian I’ve ever consumed, but regardless, I’m obsessed with it and have to eat it multiple times when I’m in SF. We head a few blocks toward the Tenderloin to find it.

Not long into the trek Kate’s rolling luggage breaks a wheel, and ceases to roll any further. She drags her giant duffel bag against the concrete for the remaining few blocks until we arrive at the restaurant.

Food is great. We stuff our faces until we are practically useless. However, we decide that it would be productive if we purchased a new bag for Kate as quickly as possible. We leave our belongings at the restaurant, and head out in search of luggage.

Soon enough, we’re back with a fresh new rolling suitcase for Kate. We repack everything casually on the floor of the restaurant, leave Kate’s old suitcase as a gift of sorts, then head on our way back into the financial district to kill time until Dakota gets off work.

Next stop is Blue Bottle Coffee Co. I am absolutely obsessed with their goods. Upon arrival, I receive the news that they are out of the coffee beans used to make my favorite iced coffee, so I end up with a baby iced americano instead.

It’s finally 5:00 and Dakota is off work. We head toward Powell to meet her. I am excited to go through my favorite alley, which is usually covered in randomly strewn orange chairs. I don’t know why, but I just really like orange furniture and concrete combined. Whatever.

Anyway, all that I found in the alley today was this. No iced coffee or orange chairs???? What kind of city is this???

We find Dakota at Powell. Our reunion is interrupted by a strange city dweller who told me I looked exactly like the woman who carried his sperm within her back to England. I quickly informed him that I was not this woman, and we headed on our way to catch up elsewhere.

Onward to the Mission, Dakota’s hood. Her new apartment is so so so great. Right beside Delores park. She was hungry, so we trekked a few blocks to a sushi spot, where we proceeded to stuff our faces yet another time.

So then there’s bi-rite. I had been to their grocery last time I was in SF, but missed out on the whole creamery deal. So I’ve basically been nerding out reading their menus online since last July, and really needed to experience it for myself at this point. We went, tried about 9 flavors total, and I decided that blood orange was the way to go. I was pleased.

Must learn to suppress the stank/primate face when on film and/or in public.

Day 2:

It’s raining again.

Dakota recommended that we head over to Tartine for breakfast. I first learned about Tartine last summer, when I was at some random pot-luck-cookout-half-birthday party in San Fran, and somebody brought some berry pastries from Tartine. I was obsessed from that point forward, and upon learning that the establishment was only a couple of blocks away from Dakota’s, I was set on going.

We were told to get the morning buns. So I did. I perhaps got a little carried away and ordered a ten dollar breakfast sandwich as well. I’m pretty sure it was worth it.

Project #2 was checking out the piers. Most of the projects we had on our to-do list I had already done last time I was here, but they are all worth seeing again, and since this was Kate’s first time in town, it was absolutely necessary.

And so began the jumping pictures.

Then we headed over to Pier 39. It feels like a glorified coastal trip to Busch Gardens.

The rain is intense and our socks are getting wet. But there are sea lions to be seen.

There wasn’t much more to see of the piers, so we headed westward to project #3: Coit Tower.

We didn’t have any plans on going in the tower itself, because it costs money and is generally anticlimactic. We just wanted to explore the hill surrounding the tower itself.

The rain conveniently stopped once we reached the top.

We noticed staircases running down the side of the hill into the woods. No reason not to walk down them.

Everything is so green here. And it’s a different green from the east. Can’t explain it.

We then wandered into the residential area surrounding the tower. Kick ass houses perched on the side of Telegraph Hill. Project #4: finding out how to either live in or have friends who live in these homes.

We continued walking down stairs for another half-hour until we finally hit level concrete. Onward to the next project.

Next stop was Jackson Place Cafe. I used to eat here all the time last summer, because it was in Dakota’s neighborhood and right across the street from her work. They have my favorite coffee ever (blue bottle new orleans iced coffee) and favorite meat ever (prociutto). The cafe is hidden in a little nook full of brick and palm trees and open flame lamps. I love.

Next stop: Haight. Full of hippies, thrifty shopping, and teenagers who pretend to be homeless after school lets out. Before curfview of course.

This was about 4 minutes before an insane hailstorm that left me and Kate completely soaked from the waist down. And broke our umbrellas.

And then we found the Grateful Dead house.

We met up with Dakota after work for dinner in the Mission. I had recently discovered that I wasn’t quite as broke as I thought I was, so I planned to reward myself with a tasty, slightly pricier SF dinner. And maybe a beer.

We decided on Monk’s Kettle. It was only a couple of blocks from Dakota’s, which I liked considering the weather was still crap.

Monk’s was on a wait, so we ended up browsing the surrounding thrifty spots around the block. First stop was Idol, which I vaguely remember exploring last July when Dakota was at work and I was wandering around the city bored.

Next stop was the bookstore next door… I also remember exploring this at some point last year. Quiet little spot… I kind of wonder how these places pay rent. The owner had just bought a couple of quiches and offered us a piece when we came in. We politely declined, to the delight of a ratty bearded fellow who continued eating the goods furiously.

I didn’t expect to purchase anything… until I ran across the book of my dreams. A gargantuan book of Philippe Starck’s work. My favorite designer. Ever. He is god to me. I immediately made the purchase and headed back to Monk’s to read it while I wait.

Monk’s was great. Very content-conscious cooking, and the greatest beer list I have EVER seen. The first page was about 50 California brews… and then continued on for another 10 pages or so. I wish I could have had the chance to explore several, but after a giant pretzel, macaroni and cheese, bbq sandwich, fries and curry aioli, I really only had room for one altbier. Then it was coma time.

I still regret not getting the Cali-brewed black currant cider. Next time I suppose.

Day three. Kate and I have a lot to explore before we head to Los Altos Hills for the night. We get up early, eat the remaining halves of our sandwiches from the night before, and head on our way.

Project 1: Tour the Academy of Art Institute’s campus. Kate had signed up for the tour of the university’s fashion design graduate program, and I was just along for the ride.

Then I started filling out a registration card. Noticed they had basically every major I have been interested in the past before deciding on pursuing a relatively uninspiring undergrad degree in public relations.

By the end of the tour, I was meeting with an admissions advisor discussing the application process. I’ll be applying to grad school in SF this week. What the fuck.

[May 09 Update: I applied. I got in. I'm moving to SF in July and starting classes in September.]

Project #2: find dim sum in Chinatown.

We don’t have dim sum in NC. Almost everyone I’ve talked to who moved from the west coast are distraught over this. Last year I managed to find a fantastic spot called Delicious Dim Sum. I am usually highly suspicious of any establishment with a positive description of their product within the name of the establishment itself. But man, this place changed my life. Nobody spoke English, and there was no menu, so I just pointed to random dumplings and the owner charged me two dollars for one of the best lunches I have EVER had. Needless to say, I was ready to revisit Chinatown.

So we arrive at Delicious Dim Sum. It is CLOSED.

NOOO.

I don’t know what to do. Of course there are approx. 342790 other dim sum restaurants in Chinatown, but it is really hard to distinguish from the good ones and the terrible ones.

We decide to make our replacement decision based on proximity. We cross the street and head into House of Dim Sum. We ordered twelve dollars worth of food. Considering my last dim sum meal was two dollars, you can only imagine how much food ended up in front of us.

We eat. We can’t finish. It is pretty terrible.

Dim sum fail 2009.

And then we headed northwest.

Project #3: Take jumping picture at Crissy Fields.

Crissy Fields jumping photo accomplished.

RENTAL CAR TIME!!!

What a pleasant surprise…. we are given a glorious minivan by Enterprise to aid us in our travels.

Yeeeaaahh minivan yeah!

[Stories continued on following blog...]

On the way back into town to finish up the last of our San Fran projects before plane boarding time.

Project #1: go to Land’s End.

It’s a strange process getting out here. You go to the golf course behind the Legion of Honor, wander until you find a dirt road blocked off by a rusted gate going straight into the woods. Jump the gate. Continue down the dirt road until you find a staircase going further downward into the woods. Take the staircase.

Continue walking down until you are standing on the edge of a cliff. Stop walking.

The wind was out of control. Maybe not that big of a deal. Unless you are standing on double-sided cliffs and could easily fall a hundred-something-feet or so.

Sitting down seemed like the most practical way to take photos. Lessened the risk of falling to our death.

I look like a muppet.

We tried and tried and tried to come up with a good way to do a jumping photo, but we couldn’t come up with a way that eliminated the chance of our cameras and/or us falling off the cliff. So we gave up and decided to climb down to the beach instead.

Land’s end jumping photo sort-of-accomplished.

I had never climbed down to the beach before. Not much sand going on. Mostly unstable rocks ranging between about half a foot and ten feet in diameter.

one of the cliffs we failed to take a jumping photo on.

Next stop: Ocean Beach.

We were running out of time and, frankly, feeling lazy, so we took some photos from the top of the ledge and went on our way.

Next stop: ALAMO SQUAAARE.

(insert Full House theme song here)

Dogs running around everywhere. I want to have a dog. In San Francisco.

LAST JUMPING PHOTO!

Alamo Square Full House jumping photo accomplished. Sort of.

We stumbled upon a shoe garden while searching for a bathroom.

The final meal of the trip was spent back at Tartine. We met up with Dakota for some paninis and baked goods, and sat outside on 18th and made some last-minute friends before it was time to leave.

feeling dirty and tired. saved the best photos for last, obviously.

THE END! More SF photos to come once I’m living there in August!

We head northward to find Calistoga, a tiny town nestled within the Sonoma Valley. Out mapquest directions don’t seem to suffice, so we decide to rely on the navigation service on my phone. We end up on Petrified Forest Road, winding at about five mph to keep from driving off the side of the mountain.

My phone is dying. I have no car charger. The GPS cannot locate us properly and keeps giving us bogus directions. We keep driving on this Petrified Forest Road (a comforting name) while I frantically write down directions from the phone, not sure if they are even correct or not. Thank god for excellent 90′s tunes lightening the mood for the trek.

The phone survived. We made it to the Calistoga Inn. Just in time to head to the bar on the bottom floor. It was DJ REGGAE NIGHT. YES.

We spent a few hours at the bar, eyeing the beautiful Calistoga man sitting alone at the barstool beside us, and bonding with bartender Danny. We promised him we’d come visit again. I’m sure he’ll be there, as he’s been working there for ten years already.

We awake from a good sleep to find complimentary breakfast waiting for us on the bottom floor. We seem to be the only people in the entire hotel. So we obviously feel obligated to eat an obscene amount of food to prevent waste. And we do so.

West coast brunch is different than east coast brunch. West coast has no meat. It’s all granola and fruit and fresh baked goods and fresh orange juice and dank coffee. East coast is usually composed of fat, egg, bacon, fat, ham, fried, chicken biscuit. Which I do enjoy from time to time, I’m not gonna lie. Anyway. West coast rules.

So then we explore Calistoga.

Today’s first project was exploring some wineries around Sonoma Valley. Not Napa. Sonoma is less commercial, it’s quieter, and less expensive. In other words, Sonoma = superior.

First stop: Kaz vineyard.

Kaz vineyard consisted of an odd little gated off house where the owner resides, a tasting barn, and and some patches of vines surrounding the property. They do.. 60 barrels a year? I think?

We kind of felt like we were intruding on such a quaint little piece of property. Especially considering it seemed like we were the only people actually on the property. We decided to explore anyway.

We wandered into a dark barn door and found a cashier’s counter with a sharp, super tan, super raspy old woman staring at us. We say hello. The wine tasting begins.

We go through twelve red wines, and jam out to the Rolling Stones with the raspy one for a while.

We wander outside into the backyard. A clusterfuck of old rusted bits and pieces of everything you can imagine. And lots of old plants. And a cat named Molly, who I hung out with for a while.

The raspy one showed us the Kaz fish pond, with the biggest fish I have ever seen in my life. This puppy was easily as big as Raphael (my mammoth cat, for those of you who don’t know). Apparently they had been abandoned at a foreclosed property, so the Kaz folk adopted them. They were fun.

Kaz winery photo jumping montage. There were too many awesome ones to pick just one.

We said our goodbyes to Molly and Raspy and the fish and headed next door to vineyard #2.

Next stop was Landmark Vineyards, a snazzy little piece of property not two mailboxes down from Kaz.

Once arrived, we met new friend Ryan, who poured wine generously and talked with us about anything and everything while we consumed it.

Jumping attempt #1: Jump off the ledge for superheight. Extremely painful and nearly impossible. We gave up quickly.

Preparing for jump plan B.

Luxury vineyard courtyard jumping photo accomplished.

New friend Ryan ended up really enjoying our company. He didn’t charge us for any of the wine, and put together a map of things to do and see before we left Sonoma. We said our goodbyes and headed onward to finish exploring before heading back to SF to catch our plane home.

First stop: Juanita Juanita.

Seemingly shady little taco shack on an old, slightly obscure Sonoma highway. Ryan said it would be a well-worthy place to grab a bite before we headed back to the city. We complied.

We decided to share a jerk chicken dish of sorts. We were presented with what looked like a rather round burrito. Perhaps because there was an ENTIRE chicken nestled inside of it. Yes, bones and all.. the whole thing. It was AMAZING. Well done, Juanita Juanita.

It only made sense to involve finger mustaches in a taco shack jumping photo.

Juanita Juanita washroom.

So continued our trek through the offroads of Sonoma Valley.

We noticed a gigantic hill in the distance (not this one…. the one of mention was too way big to fit into my camera lens). Nestled at the bottom was a… raceway? We were intrigued. Couldn’t think of a reason not to try and get on the property. So we headed to the gate.

A security guard was waiting for us. We didn’t have much of a plan set up.. so we simply explained that we noticed this hill and racetrack and wanted to know if she’d let us on the property to take pictures. We also mentioned we were from the South at some point, thinking that would somehow logically function as grounds for admission to a raceway. She actually complied. We headed onward and began our trek up the hill.

We arrive close to the top. As far as they’ll allow us to go at least. And what greater thing to be waiting for us than…. a giant hill COVERED IN SHEEP. Glorious.

High-altitude sheep covered hill jumping photo accomplished.

And then it was back to San Francisco for some last minute projects before plane-boarding time.

[to be continued...]

[March 2009]

Day four: drive everywhere we possibly can.

Vista point jump.

Stop 2: Some amazing beach. Can’t remember the name, but I remember that it bore some sort of phonetic resemblance to pinot grigio.

So we started hiking.

Random Pacific Ocean cliffside jump.

Even higher more dangerous Pacific Ocean cliffside jump.

I was examining this fantastic truck in the beach parking lot, when I noticed a man approaching that looked like he should be the owner. His name was Pat. We became friends immediately and we talked about his truck for a while. Apparently he built the entire thing himself. He then asked me on a date, immediately apologized for being old, and drove off. Farewell Pat.

We stopped at a couple of beaches on the way back north, and made some friends.

Next stop: HALF MOON BAY! It’s a little town about 45 mins south of San Francisco. I had been told to go there, and so had Kate, so we naturally had to comply.

Half Moon Bay jump.

We were told to dine at Half Moon Bay Brewing Co., so we did so. We couldn’t decide on a beer, so we ended up trying all ten brews simultaneously.

We split a lunch sandwich to make up for our hefty beer purchase. Kate neglected to drink her share of the beverages because she was driving, so I really had no choice but to consume them myself. Hello lunchtime drunktime.

Back into the mini. Heading northbound.

Kate has a bit of a fear of driving on bridges. Needless to say, the experience was quite exhilarating for her. I’m pretty glad she didn’t go into a panic seizure.

We have a bit of a habit of pulling over at every single vista point along highway 1.

Just not enough room for a proper jumping picture. We settled for a normal one.

We found monks. Tried to take a picture. Received the death stare. Please. Lighten up, monks.

We noticed a road across the highway heading up a giant hill. We decided we had to figure out how to get there. Not much later, we were jumping at the top of the Marin Headlands. I had been told to go here a year ago, but never quite figured out where it was. Good to finally figure it out accidentally.

Next stop: Sausalito. Cute little bayside town across from SF.

You are witnessing a McDonald’s photoshoot. Like… a model, posing with a McDonald’s bag and cup. For a McDonald’s advertisement. Glorious. Keep your eyes out for it.

Sausalito jump.

Next stop: Miur Woods. We wanted to see the redwoods.

Miur Woods jump.

Coolest trunk I have ever seen in my life. I would have taken it if I could.

Bear statues everywhere. I felt like I was in New Bern.

Next project: In-N-Out Burger.

I have had plans to go to In-N-Out burger ever since Tucker Max told me to in 2007. I kept missing the opportunities whenever they presented themselves over the past couple of years. Obviously it was on the to-do list for this trip.

Not 30 seconds after getting back on the road, we see one on the side of the highway. How convenient. We frantically pull over to see what this burger is really all about.

I don’t even really like burgers. I have probably have had MAYBE four fast food burgers in my entire life. They just don’t particularly appeal to me. But man, this burger was good. I’m a fan for life.

Project burger accomplished.

[to be continued...]

5/29/2007 – From Austin.

Hello! This is the last bit of writing from the west coast. I rececntly just got back from rummaging around the bars and pubs in downtown Vancouver. Our trip to Canadia almost did not happen, since Julian left his birth certificate on his microwave last week, lost it, and forgot to search for it until 1:00 this afternoon. After a couple of hours, he finally found it, and we made it over to B.C. It was very rainy, but by about 9:00 or so it cleared up enough to wander around and remain relatively dry. Canada is neat, but.. it’s just like America. People honk a little more, and green lights blink, and I am a legitimate customer in a bar, but other than that, same old thing. I had a good bit of fun.

Bellingham has been great. It’s absolutely beautiful here. Perhaps I
have already mentioned that, but I feel that you should be reminded. Did I mention that this is the most Norwegian place ever? Julian lives in the Norsemen apartments, for christ’s sake. My air mattress in his living room has been surprisingly comfortable. It’s been a nice break from my four days of extreme city life.

So tomorrow we leave the west coast. I am not ready to come home. We fly out of Seattle around 1pm western time, stop in St. Louis for a bit, then arrive back on the east side late tomorrow (Sunday) night. Back to reality.. actually checking to see if I had any assignments to do over break, then frantically finishing all of my scholarly crap before I get myself into some real trouble. Ah.. home. I’m sorry that you guys can’t live vicariously through me anymore, but at least you can see my face and experience my fabulous life in person again. I hope you can live with that. Love, hp

END!