Not sure that I specifically took a picture, but somewhere along the line I’ll have looked at the Pacific Ocean, probably during the Christchurch to Wellington portion of the trip.

This is what it looks like from the other side.

And from the end of Santa Monica Pier, once you work your way through the crowds & the folks who’d like to sell you things, it looks like this.

The crowds were actually pretty non-existent; It was mostly folks strolling along trying to eat ice-creams before they evaporated.

And this sea lion. 

Like I said, crowds not too bad.
It was, after all, mid-afternoon on a week day, so presumably people were off working or something.
You know, employed-people stuff.

The Hortisaurs of Santa Monica.

I was only in LA for two nights – Catching up with Andrei, then catching a train.

The hostel is in a historic building, which … has been the case for all of the HI hostels I’ve stayed at in the USA, come to think of it. Surprisingly good free breakfast, and very surprisingly well-organised, though that may have a lot to do with the space available to them.

The weather was hot. Damn hot.

There was a fan in room 307.
It helped a little, if you were directly in the path, as my bunk was.
For the rest of the residents of Sauna 307, not so much.

Interestingly, the building had a central courtyard, shadowed by the buildings above, which was pleasantly cool, and any space which wasn’t on an outside wall was quite nice on the temperature stakes.
Just not the dorms.

~shrug~

So be it, it was only two nights, and with a shower in the room it was possible to cool down immediately before sleep.

The Amtrak thruway bus was scheduled to pick me, and any other passengers, up at 7:25am.
Advice from Amtrak suggested being there a half-hour early.
It was about a half-hour walk from the hostel to the bus stop in the early morning, with no pack to carry.

Given all of that, I’m not sure why it was necessary to be able to take the picture below at 6:05am.

In the interests of not getting murdered by the other residents of the dorm room, I packed up the night before & left my clothes laid out where I could grab & go without needing to turn on lights, though I did use my torch a bit to make sure all was well.

The bus arrived more or less when it was expected, though the other bus turning up was a tad confusing; Both the Oakland & Emeryville thruway connections leave from there, about ten minutes apart, and there’s nothing on them to indicate which is which.

There was an Australian Mother & Son and a trio of Romanian backpackers also waiting.
The Australians had somehow attracted the attention of a possibly drunk, possibly stoned, probably orbiting Neptune chap; He was doing a lot of topic changes based on words which rhymed or sounded alike, so there was a pattern to the rambling.
Friendly, but not good at noticing that they really weren’t that into talking to him.

From here on, it’s mostly pictures.

As we got closer to the coast, the mist rolled in.

And I’m keeping this one because I rather like the effect.

We got into LA Union Station early, which was just fine by me; I’d been feeling steadily less well over the course of the trip, and decided that I would not be taking a commuter train or bus to the hostel in Santa Monica.
Not when taxis exist & the roads are reasonably clear.

Well worth it.

Yosemite turned out to be way too difficult to get to without a lot more planning than I’d done, and a conversation with someone in the hostel kind of put me off the one-day bus tour option (roughly a third of the tour happens outside of the bus, at best), so I went with Muir Woods instead.
Still a bus trip, but a much shorter one, as it’s just across the bay.

It was all scenic, which is what I was there for.
There were a number of tracks you could follow, with estimated times for each, and we’d been told that we could just make the third bridge up the river and back in the time available.

Yeah, I think I walk fast, ’cause I could have done it twice.

I mean, I didn’t do it twice.
I wandered up to the first bridge, checked out various groves of Coastal Redwood along the way, checked my watch, figured I’d go for the second bridge (on the assumption that their map was more schematic than I’d thought), checked the time there, and realised that their times were calibrated for the zimmer-frame crowd.

So I looked at trees, basked in the cheap showyness of nature, …

…, enjoyed the shade and the cooler air, …

…, and took a walk in the woods.

I made it to the meeting point for the bus in plenty of time, which was a good thing.

• The folks I’d reserved the ticket with marked the wrong place on the map – It was a block further back.
  Fortunately they also wrote down the street number.
• Their system for buses involves you being given little laminated boarding passes of various colours, related to the tour.
• There is nothing to indicate which bus corresponds to which colour; Instead, the drivers just call out.
• Across a four-lane road, because the buses stop on the side opposite to where people were told to wait.

The phrase “fucking shambles” comes to mind.

On the plus side, a sea fog had rolled in, and we drove through it as we crossed the Golden Gate Bridge.

After Muir Woods, the bus stopped at Sausalito so … Well, so that people could wander around and spend money, I guess.
In hindsight, I should have taken the option of taking the ferry back to San Francisco through the fog, but I took a tad too long to investigate the option, and missed the boat, as it were.

So I took a picture of this elephant instead.

Back in San Francisco, the fog had crept closer to shore, which made for some fun photographs, such as this one, taken from inside an Applebee’s.

And these, taken on the walk back to the hostel.

By later in the afternoon, it had snuck around behind us too, so the Fort Mason headland was encircled with fog.
If nothing else, it was atmospheric and kept the temperature down.

And then there’s this thing.

When I leave San Francisco, it’ll be by train, but the train doesn’t come into the city, and the cable cars don’t run out far enough, so Amtrak has some buses.
Given the consequences of missing the bus, and my own nature, I got up early one morning to see how long it’d take me to get to the bus stop in the dark, since I’d need to be there at 6:55 or so to meet the “be there a half-hour early” suggestion. Also, I wanted to make damn sure I had the right spot, as the signage only mentioned the connection to Emeryville, and the bus I wanted was going to Oakland.

Along the way, I tried taking a picture of Alcatraz in the dark.
I think we can all agree that it didn’t work well.

There were some folks with luggage at the spot, and a bus with an Amtrak sign arrived, so mission accomplished.

Photographed a few things on my way back.

My tourist thing of the day was to go and look at the Palace of Fine Arts, which is what this thing turned out to be.

Impressive entryway, with tiny humans and their puny human conveyances for scale.

Looming like a classically-designed alien landing craft, …

Yep, assuming that’s a window, not a … high relief? … those folks would be maybe 12′ tall? Possibly 15′?
Does anyone remember the old Trigan Empire comics?

In one of those hostel “yeah, why not?” moments, a group of us from Room 7 wandered down to watch the sunset.
From memory we had a Canadian, an Israeli, and a Bulgarian, plus me. I’m sure there’s a pub joke in there, but the hostel only had a cafe with an alcohol licence, and they were running a trivia night that night, so we’ll never know the punchline.

I didn’t take part in the quiz,  though I did enjoy the music the quizmaster was playing between questions.

Alcatraz was all booked up, as is to be expected, so I did a boat tour which took you out under the Golden Gate bridge, did a lap around Alcatraz, and down to the rough area of the ferry terminal. About 90 minutes, with a recorded commentary.
I think I’ve been spoiled by the live commentaries in Chicago & Seattle, and a few other places, because the recorded one just wasn’t as interesting. That said, they did have recorded comments from former inmates & guards, and mentioned the reunions which sometimes occurred.

This one’s image-heavy

I have actual content, but Wiseauthulhu here demands special placement.

The rest of the post is normal, I assure you

Continue reading →

yeah, these aren’t getting any better, are they?

So, the view from the hostel, or the hostel area, is still worth the walk. There’s a network of paths & steps to get down from the headland, plus some roads if you’re into that sort of thing; I wandered down a different way to how I’d come up, just to check it out, and found various former gun emplacements, many very steep stairs, and a sign telling you not to use them at night. With no explanation as to why.

• strange lights and disappearances?
• muggers?
• homeless folks who need their beauty sleep?
• chupathingy?

As a start to tourism, I headed for a pier with various historic looking boats, on the grounds that it’s probably a tourist attraction.

Turned out to be Hyde Street Pier, part of the Historic Maritime Area, and as luck would have it they were having a free day, so I wandered around the steel-hulled sailing ship Balclutha & the sidewheeler Eureka.

Balclutha had been through a few trade incarnations over it’s life, so they had the historical interpretation stuff in the upper hold divided into sections for those trades. They also had the Captain’s cabin rigged as it would have been in port, with all the nice furniture and delicate lamps brought out of storage.

Apparently the papers were signed after said Captain’s wife, who’d been in on the negotiation and was an active part in them, confirmed that a deckhouse was still there, as she wanted a spot above deck where she could do crafts & keep watch on the ship.

Eureka started life under a different name, and was completely rebuilt after military service because of the strain put on it. Too many heavy cargos.

It did the cross-bay trip with cars and passengers, and had a restaurant on board. And it’s a double ender, which is why they went with side wheels.

According to the plaque, the issue with the sort of engine it has is that if the piston stops at the top or bottom of the stroke, steam pressure won’t get it started again. To get around this, they’d turn the paddlewheel manually through an access hatch, using a big damn lever they kept there for the purpose, and move the piston that way, ideally before they hit the dock.

Coit Tower was the second tourist thing.
It’s … up a ways, and it was a hot day, so I took advantage of some convenient steps to take a breather & enjoy the shade and the view.

And, apparently, the Coyotes.

There’s a fair bit of view.

And the tower, which I’m told only coincidentally resembles a fire hose nozzle.
On a memorial to a woman who was famous for how much she loved firefighting & fire companies.
Riiiiight.

In the car park, Columbus stares at Alcatraz.

There’s an elevator to go up the tower, but they warned me at the hostel about the giant queue.
Said queue didn’t look too bad, but then, after a few minutes, I discovered that this was only the outside portion; The queue inside the building would be another 45 minutes or so.

I noped out at that point.

Every time I see this place, I misread the sign as saying ‘Chunder’.

The hostel I’m staying at is in Fort Mason, so it’s all historic.
Also uphill.

I remember the hill from cycling around SF in 2012; It’s the one where I had to stop because I couldn’t stay upright due to crowd-induced slowness, and got an aggrieved cry of “Don’t Stop!” from the cyclist behind me.
Don’t know what they were complaining about, they only had to push a regular bike. I was pushing an e-bike, so it was heavier.

I don’t remember the domed thing from last time, though it may have been blocked by people or outraged cyclists.
Looks bloody huge.

I got to the hostel wildly too early, but they let me store my bag so that I could go for a wander.
For those who’re curious, here’s a link to the HI San Francisco Fisherman’s Wharf.

Lke I said, it’s a bit historical-looking.

And it’s at the top of a hill, at pretty much the end of the headland, so the view is good.

This part of the view is where it all went wrong, …

… because if we zoom in on that banner, …

… we’ll see this.

Only bought two books, and they gave me a $1 off voucher on my way in, so total spend was $3.

Outside there’s this.
I’m assuming it was a case of an oncoming storm,  high tide, and no better option than to beach her in the retaining wall.

I’m interpreting this as;

In the event of a Tsunami, everyone has to get out of my way.

I’ll be on this train for … call it 19 hours.

Also, it would appear that I’m heading for San Fran Fish, in West California. Makes sense; Western California would be damp.

Could have gone with a sleeper, but it didn’t really seem worth it for a trip where I need to be off the train at 8am. Who knows, by 8am tomorrow I may have changed my tune & be extolling the virtues of sleepers for every possible occasion.

Yep!
Sleepers are awesome.

It was not the best night ever.

The views were pretty good though.

I’d forgotten that the Business Class seat gave me access to the Metropolitan Lounge, but as it happens the train spends some time at Portland, and they board as soon as they’re able, so I’d have had to get there pretty early to enjoy the lounge.
Or, from the look of it, comfy waiting room.

Another passenger advised me to go for a right-hand side seat, for the view, though that may apply more further south, where the water lives; In Oregon & Northern California, it’s trees & farms, sometimes tree farms.

The seats are comfy enough; Sleeping issues were more to do with people.
Bickering couple behind me who spent a lot of time messing with very noisy bags, and who were constantly kicking the footrest or resting their feet on the back of my seat while I was trying to sleep. Turns out that fully reclining said seat cramped their style, and one of them moved.
There was also the guy who swore every time the train hit a bump, thrashed around while loudly muttering as he tried to get a comfy position, and generally made sure that if he couldn’t sleep, neither could any of the rest of us.

I alternated between sleeping across two seats, with feet pulled up on the fold-out legrest, sleeping sitting against the window with my feet on the other seat’s footrest, and fully reclining my own seat. All of them worked for a while as an approach.

OK, back to the views.

Taking pictures from a moving train means that you’re constantly getting objects flinging themselves into the shot at the last moment. Objects like this group of trees.

When that didn’t happen, there were shots like these.

And another opportunity to add to the ‘photographing photographers’ series.

This one I’m keeping because … I kind of like the effect.
And the dead-strait road through a forest is interesting.

This one looks to me like the tree to the right is trying to photobomb by leaping into the shot.

Sunrise from the dining car. I was seated with the guy between me & Thrashy McSwearsalot, and the guy in front of Thrashy McSwearsalot, so we got to trade notes. It was … theraputic.

Guy in front of me was heading back to LA, after driving up to Oregon with a relative to help them move into College.
Guy further in front was on his way back to SF after having through-hiked the Pacific Crest Trail; Took 4½ months, and it begins and ends at the borders. At the south, you can touch the border fence, or even reach under it to touch Mexico (though in some places the fence is inside the USA, I’m told) if you want to.
At the northern end, there’s a firebreak and a sign asking you to turn around if you don’t have a Canadian Visa.

The train only goes to Emeryville, so there’s a bus for the last bit; That’s where I took this one from, probably showing Alcatraz.

Part of the Plan For Portland was to figure out the approximate plan for the next bit.
Well, that didn’t happen like I expected.

Getting to Yosemite turned out to be possible without a car, but tricky, and Amtrak’s system only acknowledging one of the many schedule options, the worst one, did not fill me with confidence. As it turned out, that really didn’t matter, as all of the accommodation in and adjacent to the park was full anyway.

I’ll skip through the swearing and the cursing, and cut to the bit where, after a month and a half, I’m giving up on the unplanned wandering mode of travel. It’s not that I can’t pick a destination to go to next, it just turns out that I don’t like it very much, mostly because I don’t like not knowing where I’m going to sleep. Maybe it’d be different if I were cycletouring+camping, or with a vehicle I could sleep in?

So I did some planning, not helped by the Amtrak site falling over at the worst possible time, though I did have a backup option if the train proved impossible to book. Or was out of beds.

The site failure was, in technical terms, a bit of a clusterfuck; First I couldn’t log in, then the site was just gone for a while, then it came back in “light” mode, which is where the fun really started.

Before that fun, I went for a walk to the river. Probably the Colombia River.

The path passes right by the end of the runway, and I had a plane go overhead as I walked, which was fun.

The stretch of sand on the other bank is part of Government Island, which is also where the forests that bridge is plunging into in the picture above is located.

And here’s the reason I took a walk; I’m standing in Oregon, across the water is Washington. I’m pretty sure that this is the first time I’ve been able to do this, to stand in one state and look at another. I’m sure it happened on train & car trips, but that does not feel like it’s the same thing, somehow.

I don’t think I’ve been in the same situation with countries yet.

The travel situation eventually resolved itself, but it took time.

1. The Amtrak site in ‘Right’ mode couldn’t cope with a credit card address without a ‘state’, wouldn’t allow a write-in, and claimed that one or more of the things I wanted to book were unavailable when I just put in a US state.
2. The phone line had an automated voice recognition system, which couldn’t understand my accent about 50% of the time.
3. Getting through to a person took around 9 minutes, and then they couldn’t hear me.
4. When the site came back up in full mode, it still claimed that parts of the journey were sold out.
5. What eventually did the job was running each leg of the trip through separately.

that backup plan I mentioned?

Las Vegas, which it turns out you can do fairly cheaply if you book ahead, pay attention to the fluctuations in room price, and, and this is important, don’t gamble unless you’re actually that good. There were Pyramid rooms at Space Egypt, a.k.a. the Luxor, for $33/night before tax & mandatory ‘resort fee’.

Once things were booked, I took a wander through downtown Portland, where they have a Beaver Fountain.

Took this in the evening, wandering back from a sports bar where three of the screens I could see were showing two different networks covering the Chicago Cubs vs. Cincinnati Reds game. Another one looked to be showing a thing on NFL injury recovery, but turned out to be a show about the draft for the NFL at a regional combine. Or maybe the regional combine, I’m not sure.

Anyway, a plane passed right over the carpark, and this time I was fast enough to get an awful picture.

And that’s more or less it for Portland.

There was a learning experience there, and some time was eaten up by planning out the rest of the trip, but it was still fun.

Finding the station again turned out to be simple,

… , and on my way in I noticed someone’s time machine parked outside.

At least, that’s what I’m assuming it is. Could be a mostly buried spaceship, with only the helm still visible.