Happy Birthday Christy.
I gazed out over the desert scene around us taking in as much of it as I could before we departed. I took some photographs knowing that they wouldn’t do the view full justice but might look impressive all the same.
After creating, devouring and clearing up breakfast we boarded the Green tortoise for our journey back to San Francisco. On the way we would have a couple of stops. The first of these was; Mosaic Canyon.
Mosaic Canyon is just outside Stovepipe Wells Village and one has a wonderful little “mini-hike” to get to the canyon proper. The whole place is made up of marble deposits in all hues and colours with some of the rock surfaces rough and others polished and very smooth. Imagine trying to climb up a marble table tipped on its side and you will get an idea of how slippery polished marble is.
Having got into the canyon there is another 2-3 Km hike through it before one can scale the sides. In order to do this one has to traverse a few very narrow ridges. This is where I discovered that I suffer from natural vertigo. I am fine on tall buildings especially ones which have been there for many years as I know they won’t fall down and they usually have hand and/or safety rails. Out here one has a sheer drop either side or if not a sheer drop then a drop down a shale slope which would remove copious amounts of flesh and/or break bones and then be bloody hard to bordering on the impossible to climb back up again! I made several attempts at crossing this particular ridge before giving in to the inevitable – I was not meant to cross it. No matter; having accepted this fact I could just sit down and take in the view which sadly the photographs do not do proper justice to.
As everyone else started coming back I retraced my steps out of the canyon and felt no shame at still being able to walk and having full control over all my limbs for the hike back. This was fun in itself as it required climbing up (or down) mini-chimneys, ducking or crawling under natural bridges or arches and generally completing an “It’s a Knockout” course without the crazy foam or having to burst balloons! (The natural equivalent of the “greasy pole” or “slippery slope” was provided by the polished marble.)
Having got back to the starting point I was once again grateful to my trusty hiking boots for their sterling performance.
Our last stop in Death Valley National Park was for a group photo and after this we were all exchanging email addresses as we trundled on to our last stop – a hot pool!
Having parked up at the end of a huge lot which catered for RVs we set about preparing our last supper. Once again the communal camp kitchen performed admirably and we all ate our fill. There was an added incentive to this as after clearing up we were at liberty to visit the hot pool. This is a large swimming pool geothermally heated from the nearby hot springs.
Before entering the pool visitors are requested to take a shower – a wonderful request for those of us who hadn’t seen one for three days! Having enjoyed a lovely hot shower, with soap, I felt clean enough to plunge into the small pool located next to the main large pool. This is the “hot pool” and being only a metre deep and 10x5 metres in area was like jumping into a hot bath – it was lovely!
Having played about in the pools for a while it was a treat to get dried and into some clean clothes, after which it was back on the bus – now in sleeper mode – for the final leg of the journey back to San Francisco.
I settled down on the padded area at the back of the bus wrapped in my sleeping bag and feeling warm and clean fell into a peaceful sleep.
Saturday, 16 February 2008
Death Valley - Day 3
Today most people were reflecting on the depth of temperature the previous night. The general consensus was “bloody freezing”, especially from the people who were in tents.
After breakfast we all climbed aboard the “magic bus” and headed for Ubehebe Crater. In fact there are two craters – Greater and Lesser Ubehebe – no prizes for guessing that one is bigger than the other. From where the bus dropped us off there is a short hike up to the top of the rim of Greater Ubebhebe and when one gets there it is most impressive. These craters were actually caused by an eruption of rock, as opposed to impact from meteors, and when one looks down into the larger one it does induce a feeling of vertigo. If one desires it is possible to hike down to the bottom of the crater and back again but I rejected this as the surface is loose sand and scree and getting back out again is a rather demanding challenge so I settled for walking around the rim.
On my rim walk I had Marcos as a companion. This guy was the life and soul of the party on our trip. He is a Spaniard with a typical dark Mediterranean look and was a great hit with the ladies and was travelling with Rea – a young lady from Cornwall who was great fun – as far as San Francisco before she headed off to LA. We got chatting about all sorts of things and got deeply into things spiritual and natural – not that silly made up religious stuff but things in line with the true spiritual races like the Native American Indians and Australian Aborigines. Walking around this huge crater makes one realise the true insignificance of man when compared to nature especially when one is surrounded by it! The views all around were stunning and big, i.e. where the sky meets the land is a long way away and one can have an uninterrupted view to the horizon. If this doesn’t make sense; go there and see for yourself it will become much clearer then. As one walks around the crater one gets wonderful views of the Last Chance Range and the Grapevine Mountains and if these don’t make you feel humble then you are an arsehole earning too much money, driving a large 16 and in severe need of ego deflation therapy! (You also probably think designer rip-off articles are worth the money! Get help before it is too late!)
After completing our circuit we boarded the bus and headed for our next destination; the Stovepipe Wells Sand Dunes.
When we got to our stopping point the dunes were clearly visible about 2-3 kilometres away and looked like a sea modelled in sand. The dunes form the waves – and do constantly shift – and the troughs in between are deeper than they look. In fact the whole thing about Death Valley, and the desert in general, is that it throws up a whole host of illusions and distance is very hard to judge unless one is experienced in desert-craft.
After the initial trek over rough ground between scattered scrub bushes one gets to the sand proper. This is fine and densely packed where it lies on a level. When it rears up into a dune it becomes soft and yielding, hence small dunes are just as hard to climb as a large one. The large dunes are of course firm and hard at the bottom where the sand is compressed but as one gets to the top the sand is loose and prone to slide very easily so the trick is to get some momentum running up the lower slope and then keep it going to the top finishing up with big wading steps. Warning; if you stop near the top, dig in and, if necessary, throw yourself flat against the dune because if you start sliding you’ll end up very near the bottom again! This is not only rather annoying it is also very exhausting and will consume a lot of your water.
Having gained the top of a very large dune I was quite content to walk along its crest and just look out over the rest of the dunes rolling into the distance. Some of the “youngsters” were playing Frisbee in one of the troughs and hurling the thing huge distances to each other.
Most of us gathered on a couple of crests to watch the sunset which was quite spectacular and then we started heading back to the bus. Apart from our appointed time to return we were all aware of how quickly the light would fade and how quickly the temperature would drop once the sun had set.
Another wonderful experience I will remember for the rest of my life was “sand surfing or skiing”. It is possible to just throw yourself off the top of a sand dune and roll down it or body surf down it. I didn’t want to do this as I didn’t want to eat a kilo of sand so I opted for the skiing method. I had removed my footwear as soon as I had got onto the proper sand as one just has to be barefoot to appreciate the temperature difference in the sand itself. On top it is hot to bloody hot, depending on how exposed it is and how baked it has been. Beneath the surface it is cool and one can bury ones feet in it and they will be quite comfortable. Dune skiing, in my opinion, has to be done barefoot. It is really exhilarating to be able to “ski” in giant strides down the side of a sand dune and makes the effort of climbing one worthwhile.
Having “skied” down all the sand dunes on the way back I replaced my footwear for the last stretch back to the bus. By this time it was heavy dusk and I could easily appreciate how people could get lost very easily without a light as a point of reference as the dunes and scrub bushes just intensified the dusk with their shadows. No one got lost or injured and we all returned safely and eager for dinner.
Once back at the campsite we set about food preparation in earnest and soon had dinner prepared with the aid of some cleverly mounted lights on the bus as it was fully dark by now.
After dinner was cleared away some people, not many, were going to make the hike to a nearby hotel where they could shower and use the pool. Along with the majority – especially when we found out the pool was of the outdoor variety - I declined this offer as I didn’t want to get chilled or cold. I could still remember how bloody cold it was last night and I was comfortably encased in my hoodie and coat and quite warm enough thank you very much (still wished I’d brought my gloves though) and didn’t want to disturb this delicate equilibrium.
The people remaining all congregated around the fire, once we’d got it going, and the laugh of the night became Rea. She had wandered round the camp asking if anyone wanted anything from the local store – about a 20 minute walk away – as she was going to it. About two hours later she came and asked me again if I wanted anything from the store. I along with everyone else nearby all exclaimed that she asked us that two hours ago and questioned why she hadn’t gone yet! It was all done good naturedly as it was very easy to get chatting to various people as they moved about the campsite and to and from the fire. Eventually she went and when she returned we all asked her if she was going to the store and/or could she get... when she went to the store. It was one of those things where it was funnier to be there and Rea was a great laugh with a wicked sense of humour. The star of the show this night was John, an English guy who worked at the hostel. He was dispensing wonderful dry English humour which had me in stitches and passed over the heads of some of the more retarded Yanks. Paul, one of our drivers was pretty in tune with this and we had a great laugh whilst we sat about toasting marshmallows.
When the fire eventually died and we had nothing more to feed it with we all turned in for the night which was a damn sight less cold than last night. I could easily tell it wasn’t as cold because I didn’t need to put my coat hood up – in fact I actually took my coat off just before I slid into my sleeping bag. I slept soundly that night.
After breakfast we all climbed aboard the “magic bus” and headed for Ubehebe Crater. In fact there are two craters – Greater and Lesser Ubehebe – no prizes for guessing that one is bigger than the other. From where the bus dropped us off there is a short hike up to the top of the rim of Greater Ubebhebe and when one gets there it is most impressive. These craters were actually caused by an eruption of rock, as opposed to impact from meteors, and when one looks down into the larger one it does induce a feeling of vertigo. If one desires it is possible to hike down to the bottom of the crater and back again but I rejected this as the surface is loose sand and scree and getting back out again is a rather demanding challenge so I settled for walking around the rim.
On my rim walk I had Marcos as a companion. This guy was the life and soul of the party on our trip. He is a Spaniard with a typical dark Mediterranean look and was a great hit with the ladies and was travelling with Rea – a young lady from Cornwall who was great fun – as far as San Francisco before she headed off to LA. We got chatting about all sorts of things and got deeply into things spiritual and natural – not that silly made up religious stuff but things in line with the true spiritual races like the Native American Indians and Australian Aborigines. Walking around this huge crater makes one realise the true insignificance of man when compared to nature especially when one is surrounded by it! The views all around were stunning and big, i.e. where the sky meets the land is a long way away and one can have an uninterrupted view to the horizon. If this doesn’t make sense; go there and see for yourself it will become much clearer then. As one walks around the crater one gets wonderful views of the Last Chance Range and the Grapevine Mountains and if these don’t make you feel humble then you are an arsehole earning too much money, driving a large 16 and in severe need of ego deflation therapy! (You also probably think designer rip-off articles are worth the money! Get help before it is too late!)
After completing our circuit we boarded the bus and headed for our next destination; the Stovepipe Wells Sand Dunes.
When we got to our stopping point the dunes were clearly visible about 2-3 kilometres away and looked like a sea modelled in sand. The dunes form the waves – and do constantly shift – and the troughs in between are deeper than they look. In fact the whole thing about Death Valley, and the desert in general, is that it throws up a whole host of illusions and distance is very hard to judge unless one is experienced in desert-craft.
After the initial trek over rough ground between scattered scrub bushes one gets to the sand proper. This is fine and densely packed where it lies on a level. When it rears up into a dune it becomes soft and yielding, hence small dunes are just as hard to climb as a large one. The large dunes are of course firm and hard at the bottom where the sand is compressed but as one gets to the top the sand is loose and prone to slide very easily so the trick is to get some momentum running up the lower slope and then keep it going to the top finishing up with big wading steps. Warning; if you stop near the top, dig in and, if necessary, throw yourself flat against the dune because if you start sliding you’ll end up very near the bottom again! This is not only rather annoying it is also very exhausting and will consume a lot of your water.
Having gained the top of a very large dune I was quite content to walk along its crest and just look out over the rest of the dunes rolling into the distance. Some of the “youngsters” were playing Frisbee in one of the troughs and hurling the thing huge distances to each other.
Most of us gathered on a couple of crests to watch the sunset which was quite spectacular and then we started heading back to the bus. Apart from our appointed time to return we were all aware of how quickly the light would fade and how quickly the temperature would drop once the sun had set.
Another wonderful experience I will remember for the rest of my life was “sand surfing or skiing”. It is possible to just throw yourself off the top of a sand dune and roll down it or body surf down it. I didn’t want to do this as I didn’t want to eat a kilo of sand so I opted for the skiing method. I had removed my footwear as soon as I had got onto the proper sand as one just has to be barefoot to appreciate the temperature difference in the sand itself. On top it is hot to bloody hot, depending on how exposed it is and how baked it has been. Beneath the surface it is cool and one can bury ones feet in it and they will be quite comfortable. Dune skiing, in my opinion, has to be done barefoot. It is really exhilarating to be able to “ski” in giant strides down the side of a sand dune and makes the effort of climbing one worthwhile.
Having “skied” down all the sand dunes on the way back I replaced my footwear for the last stretch back to the bus. By this time it was heavy dusk and I could easily appreciate how people could get lost very easily without a light as a point of reference as the dunes and scrub bushes just intensified the dusk with their shadows. No one got lost or injured and we all returned safely and eager for dinner.
Once back at the campsite we set about food preparation in earnest and soon had dinner prepared with the aid of some cleverly mounted lights on the bus as it was fully dark by now.
After dinner was cleared away some people, not many, were going to make the hike to a nearby hotel where they could shower and use the pool. Along with the majority – especially when we found out the pool was of the outdoor variety - I declined this offer as I didn’t want to get chilled or cold. I could still remember how bloody cold it was last night and I was comfortably encased in my hoodie and coat and quite warm enough thank you very much (still wished I’d brought my gloves though) and didn’t want to disturb this delicate equilibrium.
The people remaining all congregated around the fire, once we’d got it going, and the laugh of the night became Rea. She had wandered round the camp asking if anyone wanted anything from the local store – about a 20 minute walk away – as she was going to it. About two hours later she came and asked me again if I wanted anything from the store. I along with everyone else nearby all exclaimed that she asked us that two hours ago and questioned why she hadn’t gone yet! It was all done good naturedly as it was very easy to get chatting to various people as they moved about the campsite and to and from the fire. Eventually she went and when she returned we all asked her if she was going to the store and/or could she get... when she went to the store. It was one of those things where it was funnier to be there and Rea was a great laugh with a wicked sense of humour. The star of the show this night was John, an English guy who worked at the hostel. He was dispensing wonderful dry English humour which had me in stitches and passed over the heads of some of the more retarded Yanks. Paul, one of our drivers was pretty in tune with this and we had a great laugh whilst we sat about toasting marshmallows.
When the fire eventually died and we had nothing more to feed it with we all turned in for the night which was a damn sight less cold than last night. I could easily tell it wasn’t as cold because I didn’t need to put my coat hood up – in fact I actually took my coat off just before I slid into my sleeping bag. I slept soundly that night.
Wednesday, 13 February 2008
Death Valley - Day 2
We pulled into the campsite, which was very sparsely populated as it was “off-season”, and soon set about preparing breakfast. This was a group effort with everyone doing something to concoct a very good – surprisingly so for most people, me included – and filling breakfast. We also made our own lunch to take with us and were encouraged to fill any water bottles or containers we had for the hike.
After clearing and cleaning up we all boarded the bus – which had been “un-miracled” back into seats – and headed for our drop off point from which we would do our first hike.
The bus dropped us off at Zabriske Point and we would hike through to Golden Canyon where the bus would pick us up again.
The hike was wonderful, through a beautiful valley which was a river valley caught in stone. One can easily see what it was before the water went away – it is total rock and desert now – and I collared Eleanor to ask her questions about what we were looking at. I did keep checking to make sure she didn’t mind me playing amateur geologist with her and told her she only had to tell me to piss off when she had had enough. She was obviously too polite to do this and when we had a break for lunch I left her in peace. The place was amazing though, especially when one realises this used to be full of water, as it is real desert (as opposed to fake desert) with hot sun beating down onto the rocks and into the valleys and stealing any available moisture. I can testify to this as the backs of my hands and my lips were dry by the end of the day. I drank plenty of water on the hike and kept it to “little and often” rather than downing a litre in one go.
After getting back on the bus we were driven to our next location: Badwater Basin the lowest point in Death Valley and North America at 65.5m below sea level. This was quite different as it is a sunken valley which always has standing water in it – rather obviously as it is below sea level. After having a walk out on the salt flats we all boarded the bus and headed back to the campsite as the sun was setting.
Next came dinner preparation, which again was a group effort and was soon prepared. After dinner and clearing up we all congregated around the fire pit and got a camp fire going. This turned into a mini party with beers being produced and consumed. Some people had brought tents and would be camping out whilst the rest of us would be sleeping on the bus. It also became very apparent at how quickly the temperature drops and by how much – it was getting very cold.
The temperature dropped so much that I had donned all my layers: t-shirt, sweatshirt, hoodie, hat and jacket. I also wished I had brought my thermal gloves as my hands and face were the only things left exposed. It got so cold that the only thing I removed before crawling into my sleeping bag was my boots!
I do not know what the actual temperature dropped to during the night but it certainly felt below freezing in any temperature scale. I did have to get up in the early hours of the morning in order to have a wee. I did briefly consider not bothering to get up as it would create some warmth, but realised that any liquid in this environment would cool and more likely freeze so I did get up.
Death Valley - Day 1
I spent the day at the hostel only popping out to get some lunch. I caught up on some more of my travel journal, downloaded the latest photographs from my camera and organised all my photographs so far into separate folders for the places I had been so far. I felt rather pleased with myself that I had caught up with everything as I would have to rely on memory and written notes for the next four days.
When they started to prepare the evening meal I packed up, stashed my bag that I was leaving behind in the storage room, and joined the group going on the trip in the reception area. Quite a few of them were getting taxis down to the bus station where we would pick up the Green Tortoise “magic bus”.
There were four of us left and a seeming absence of free taxis so I was all in favour of walking especially as it wasn’t far anyway. We set off and I started chatting to Eleanor, a Welsh girl who was living in Leeds and finishing a degree in geology. I made the observation that this should be an interesting trip for her.
We found the bus station with no real difficulty and found the place we had to be with just a little more. Other people joined the little group who had come from the Green Tortoise hostel and we all awaited the arrival of the bus. As is the case we got chatting amongst ourselves and introductions were made.
The Green Tortoise arrived and we all got checked on by our drivers/hosts Seena and Paul. Our luggage was all stored in the luggage lockers as space on the bus was at a premium. When I got on I realised why, this was a sleeper bus which had a large cushioned area at the back, two sections of bench seats and tables and two bench seats at the front. We all found somewhere to sit and off we went through the rain which had started falling on San Francisco.
We would be driving overnight to arrive at our campsite in Death Valley tomorrow morning for breakfast. There would be one stop on the way for the purchasing of snacks, beverages and anything else one might have forgotten and visiting toilets – although there was one on the bus it was recommended to use this only in an emergency as it was just like the ones on Greyhound buses; i.e. a bucket of chemicals plus whatever one deposits in it, and after three days it would be rather full if used by everyone regularly!
During the stop “the miracle” was worked on the bus, and what a miracle it was. This converted all the tables and bench seats into bed spaces and the luggage racks formed top bunks. I very fortunately claimed one of the “bottom bunks” which was under what used to be a table. This, in hindsight, was a very good choice as it was low and didn’t suffer much shaking about when the bus was travelling over less than smooth surfaces. I got a pretty good sleep and awoke to bright sunshine as we were approaching Death Valley itself.
When they started to prepare the evening meal I packed up, stashed my bag that I was leaving behind in the storage room, and joined the group going on the trip in the reception area. Quite a few of them were getting taxis down to the bus station where we would pick up the Green Tortoise “magic bus”.
There were four of us left and a seeming absence of free taxis so I was all in favour of walking especially as it wasn’t far anyway. We set off and I started chatting to Eleanor, a Welsh girl who was living in Leeds and finishing a degree in geology. I made the observation that this should be an interesting trip for her.
We found the bus station with no real difficulty and found the place we had to be with just a little more. Other people joined the little group who had come from the Green Tortoise hostel and we all awaited the arrival of the bus. As is the case we got chatting amongst ourselves and introductions were made.
The Green Tortoise arrived and we all got checked on by our drivers/hosts Seena and Paul. Our luggage was all stored in the luggage lockers as space on the bus was at a premium. When I got on I realised why, this was a sleeper bus which had a large cushioned area at the back, two sections of bench seats and tables and two bench seats at the front. We all found somewhere to sit and off we went through the rain which had started falling on San Francisco.
We would be driving overnight to arrive at our campsite in Death Valley tomorrow morning for breakfast. There would be one stop on the way for the purchasing of snacks, beverages and anything else one might have forgotten and visiting toilets – although there was one on the bus it was recommended to use this only in an emergency as it was just like the ones on Greyhound buses; i.e. a bucket of chemicals plus whatever one deposits in it, and after three days it would be rather full if used by everyone regularly!
During the stop “the miracle” was worked on the bus, and what a miracle it was. This converted all the tables and bench seats into bed spaces and the luggage racks formed top bunks. I very fortunately claimed one of the “bottom bunks” which was under what used to be a table. This, in hindsight, was a very good choice as it was low and didn’t suffer much shaking about when the bus was travelling over less than smooth surfaces. I got a pretty good sleep and awoke to bright sunshine as we were approaching Death Valley itself.
San Fransisco - Day 7
First thing after breakfast I booked my trip to Death Valley. I took the option of hiring a sleeping bag – as I hadn’t brought one with me (for space reasons alone) – and got all the details for the trip. They supplied me with a very useful “things to take” list so I set about purchasing the very few items I didn’t already have. I also took the precaution of buying some more batteries for my camera as there would not be any facilities for recharging my rechargeable ones. Then I went in search of coffee and had a walk down to the pyramid shaped building to find out exactly what it is called – The Transamerica Pyramid – so now we all know.
Still in Zeppelin mode I returned to the hostel and sat on the steps alongside it listening to the rest of “The BBC Sessions” in the warm California sunshine. This is another gem I must listen to more often as one can hear things taking shape on it, with many promises of the “Shapes of Things” to come! (A little in joke about The Yardbirds mother.) It also has a lovely introduction, by the much missed and totally wonderful John Peel, to the “Peel Sessions” tracks.
When it was finished I thought it would be best to get everything ready, so I returned to my dorm and packed my rucksack. I opted for the big rucksack as I could get everything I wanted into it quite comfortably.
Knowing it would be cold in the desert when the sun went down I packed my hoodie and woolly hat, I will wear my waterproof jacket so I hope I have all the bases covered. Having finished packing everything I was going to take with me, I headed for the ballroom and caught up with some more travel log.
As it had got to evening time I packed up and then went out for something to eat. After this I felt rather tired so I returned to the hostel had a sauna and shower and just lay on my bed listening to music.
I woke up several hours later, got into bed and went back to sleep.
Still in Zeppelin mode I returned to the hostel and sat on the steps alongside it listening to the rest of “The BBC Sessions” in the warm California sunshine. This is another gem I must listen to more often as one can hear things taking shape on it, with many promises of the “Shapes of Things” to come! (A little in joke about The Yardbirds mother.) It also has a lovely introduction, by the much missed and totally wonderful John Peel, to the “Peel Sessions” tracks.
When it was finished I thought it would be best to get everything ready, so I returned to my dorm and packed my rucksack. I opted for the big rucksack as I could get everything I wanted into it quite comfortably.
Knowing it would be cold in the desert when the sun went down I packed my hoodie and woolly hat, I will wear my waterproof jacket so I hope I have all the bases covered. Having finished packing everything I was going to take with me, I headed for the ballroom and caught up with some more travel log.
As it had got to evening time I packed up and then went out for something to eat. After this I felt rather tired so I returned to the hostel had a sauna and shower and just lay on my bed listening to music.
I woke up several hours later, got into bed and went back to sleep.
San Francisco - Day 6
Having had a good sleep, I awoke refreshed and recharged. I thought I would do some more exploring in a different part of downtown San Francisco.
Having got to Union Square I rewarded myself with a coffee and then set off towards Golden Gate Park – or Golden Gate golf course as I renamed it as it seemed to be one long golf course. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who described the game of golf as a good walk ruined, but I could be wrong. It isn’t the game I detest so much it is the sad deluded idiots who take it so seriously that they have to dress as pimps, prats or prostitutes to play it and then pretend that anything which happens on a golf course actually means something in the great scheme of life. Never mind, I left them to their pursuits and headed off back into downtown.
Taking a different route back I found myself in the Nob Hill area and ended up walking to the top of Nob Hill. The last part was almost achieved on all fours as the bloody thing is so steep – I mean really steep – that one doesn’t walk up it, but one climbs it! By the time I got to the top I just wanted to plant a flag and pose for photographs. When I looked back down it I felt a real sense of achievement at getting here without oxygen, crampons or pitons – or a team of Sherpas!
Having recovered I decided to check the map for nearby attractions. Ah-ha the Cable Car Museum is not far from here, and it is downhill (what isn’t from the top of Nob Hill?). I will head for it.
This place was a little treasure and free to enter. It isn’t just a museum; it is the powerhouse of the San Francisco cable car system – literally, as it houses the winch engines which drive the whole system – all four lines. I spent a couple of hours wandering around it absorbing interesting facts and watching the big wheels spin.
The cables travel at a constant 9.5 mph and there is a very interesting exhibit showing how they are repaired and/or replaced during the night when the cable cars don’t run.
The gripper pads are made of cedar – which is why one can often smell a lovely aroma from the cars themselves – as it doesn’t produce oily sap thereby allowing a good grip on the cable. I will not go on further as this will only be of interest to train spotters.
After leaving the museum I grabbed something to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
I had been mulling it over in my head on the way back to the hostel and reached the decision that I would go on the Green Tortoise Death Valley trip. I made enquiries at the main desk and the very helpful young lady gave me all the details but couldn’t take my booking as that is done by the travel office – behind the main desk – and that was shut for the day, however, it will be open in the morning. I will return!
I settled for a sauna, shower and bed.
Having got to Union Square I rewarded myself with a coffee and then set off towards Golden Gate Park – or Golden Gate golf course as I renamed it as it seemed to be one long golf course. I believe it was George Bernard Shaw who described the game of golf as a good walk ruined, but I could be wrong. It isn’t the game I detest so much it is the sad deluded idiots who take it so seriously that they have to dress as pimps, prats or prostitutes to play it and then pretend that anything which happens on a golf course actually means something in the great scheme of life. Never mind, I left them to their pursuits and headed off back into downtown.
Taking a different route back I found myself in the Nob Hill area and ended up walking to the top of Nob Hill. The last part was almost achieved on all fours as the bloody thing is so steep – I mean really steep – that one doesn’t walk up it, but one climbs it! By the time I got to the top I just wanted to plant a flag and pose for photographs. When I looked back down it I felt a real sense of achievement at getting here without oxygen, crampons or pitons – or a team of Sherpas!
Having recovered I decided to check the map for nearby attractions. Ah-ha the Cable Car Museum is not far from here, and it is downhill (what isn’t from the top of Nob Hill?). I will head for it.
This place was a little treasure and free to enter. It isn’t just a museum; it is the powerhouse of the San Francisco cable car system – literally, as it houses the winch engines which drive the whole system – all four lines. I spent a couple of hours wandering around it absorbing interesting facts and watching the big wheels spin.
The cables travel at a constant 9.5 mph and there is a very interesting exhibit showing how they are repaired and/or replaced during the night when the cable cars don’t run.
The gripper pads are made of cedar – which is why one can often smell a lovely aroma from the cars themselves – as it doesn’t produce oily sap thereby allowing a good grip on the cable. I will not go on further as this will only be of interest to train spotters.
After leaving the museum I grabbed something to eat and then headed back to the hostel.
I had been mulling it over in my head on the way back to the hostel and reached the decision that I would go on the Green Tortoise Death Valley trip. I made enquiries at the main desk and the very helpful young lady gave me all the details but couldn’t take my booking as that is done by the travel office – behind the main desk – and that was shut for the day, however, it will be open in the morning. I will return!
I settled for a sauna, shower and bed.
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