The Great Journey Part 3: Napa, Calistoga, San Diego and Palm Springs
Mar 8, 2006, 11:20 am
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The Great Journey Part 3: Napa, Calistoga, San Diego and Palm Springs
Greetings from a smokey Sydney. The bushfire aftermath from Canberra is now blowing over the city, and I have lost my view of the Opera House!
This travelogue covers my last two weeks in California, taking in San Francisco and onwards to Napa Valley, Calistoga, San Diego and finally to Palm Springs in late November.
The Great Journey – Part Three
Entering San Francisco
Now early November, my travelling companion and I decided to enter San Francisco over the Golden Gate Bridge. We could not have timed our entrance better, going over the bridge just as the sun was setting. The rusty red of the ironwork glowed, with the orange sun accentuating the gargantuan structure, the gateway to the Pacific.
I last visited San Francisco for a frenetic eight hour layover en route to Hawaii in 1998, with just a chance to do some quick shopping and a rather hairy cab ride through the city. I was looking forward to being able to spend a little more time in this great city, and gaining a perspective from those who live and work here. We had arranged to meet up with some friends during our stay, including one hardy soul who flew in from New Orleans for the weekend!
We stayed at The Argent Hotel (www.argenthotel.com/) , booked through www.expedia.com at half the usual rates, and were very impressed by the place. Located on Third St. just south of Market Street, we were close to all the shops, Union Square and other attractions, and enjoyed the spectacular views afforded by the unique floor to ceiling windows.
Having journeyed through twisty cliffside roads that day along the Pacific Coast Highway from Big Sur, we were both ready for an early night. However, just as we arrived in the hotel, the call came to meet up with friends who lived in SF, and also Mr New Orleans who had bravely flown in to see us, so we stepped out into the city almost immediately.
We had a great Chinese, and then a group of us ended the evening back at the apartment of one of our dining companions, listening to him playing the guitar, singing American Pie and clad in full Elvis white jump suit, complete with eight inch collar and side burns. What a way to start the weekend!
Scooter Buggy Caper
On Saturday we had been warned that we would be expected to take part in the First International Buggy Caper. Not entirely sure we were cut out for what sounded like extraordinary dangerous pastime, we were cautious at first, but decided we could not let the side down by wimping out, and turned up to the Wharf at the duly appointed hour.
The plan was for ten of us rent a few buggies, divide into teams of two, and drive around various landmarks in the city. All this was to be timed, and at each location, we were to take a Polaroid to prove we had got there. The first one back with all the places photographed would win.
All this sounds fair enough, except when you realise that very few of us were long term residents and were not familiar with our way around the city, this not being helped by the poor quality of the maps we were given.
Our chances of coming through this alive were further hindered by bright yellow 50cc scooter buggies, the sort of conveyance which rivalled the Trabant for sheer inability to do the job.
I decided I would be the driver in my team, bearing in mind the fact that Americans are notoriously inept on the roads. A choice I regretted. The first inkling I had that the brakes were manufactured by Mr Kipling was at the lights we came to about 200m from the rental depot. Slamming down hard, nothing happened. With an evasive manoevre Captain Kirk would have been proud of, I was able to use the turn on red rule to keep going round the corner and attempt to stop. Except it was a one way street. I was going the wrong way. And there was a large trolly bus coming in the other direction.
Slightly shaken up, but with a better idea of how to control this animal, we continued careering round the city with little or no control over the machine, brakes obviously not having been high on the agenda of the bright spark who designed this death trap. At one stage my partner had to get out and push as the machine was unable to get us up one of the steep earthquake formed inclines! It was great way to see the city, and we visited the Museum, Lombard Street (the twisty one, managed only by applying the handbrake on full to stop crashing into the vehicle in front!), the Castro and the Baseball Stadium.
The caper culminated in pulling up to the very smart Gucci store in Union Square and walking up to all the sales assistants only being allowed to say the words “wogga wogga” until one of them who was in on the joke gave us the prearranged business card.
Sunday Lunch in Tiburon
Sunday saw us taking the short drive back over the bridge to a small village called Tiburon which overlooks the city from across the Bay. Lunch was enjoyed in the sun at Sam’s Diner on their wooden deck, and we drank Daiquiris as people come in from their boats moored on the wharf adjacent. We had a very enjoyable Sunday afternoon, although the dive bombing seagulls nearly created an international incident when a misjudged squirt of daiquiri from my straw missed the offending gull and hit the lady at our neighbouring table.
Not to Be Missed Man In Bush
We visited the seals at Pier 39, on the way we experienced the most extraordinary “Man in Bush” - a homeless man who has refined his panhandling to such an extent that after fifteen years he is something of an institution. With warnings sprayed on the sidewalk “Beware - Man in Bush” this huge Zimbabwean hides behind a few tree branches, and bursts out, terrifying passers by who almost always do not see him, some of whom are quite hysterical. Jolly good fun to watch, and beats Jeremy Beadle hands down for schadenfreude (just had to use that word once in my adult life, having spent so long learning how to spell it!).
Alcatraz Island, site of the disused maximum security penitentiary, is reached by a very enjoyable ferry ride, definitely not to be missed on your San Francisco agenda, although it is recommended to book the day before you want to go.
As well as the fascinating insight to the lives of such infamous criminals as Al Capone, and the battle scars of holes in the walls dug by escapees and still visible bullet holes, Alcatraz offers a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the exercise yard. One unexpected story was the American Indian human rights movement which occupied the island and declared an Indian State independent of the US in the 1960s.
After the exertions of the San Francisco weekend, it was time for a break, so we journeyed north to the Napa Valley, famous for its wine. With fall just starting, the place looked very tranquil and the vineyards, which cover every available square inch of the valley, were turning golden hues.
Napa Valley and Calistoga
We enjoyed a very pleasant drive amongst the vineyards, helped by being able to see over the vines by the large SUV we were driving. The whole place is littered with what looks like jet turbines at regular intervals used for clearing the damp air to stop the grapes rotting on the vine. Our first night spent in the valley was spent at the disappointing Marriott there, which looks nothing like the photo in the brochure. We decided to head on up to Calistoga as I had heard there were excellent spas in the area and was keen to detox and wind down after the stresses of the past few months constant travelling.
We arrived in the small town of Calistoga, and turned into the first resort we saw, the Indian Springs www.indianspringscalistoga.com . The resort boasts the most amazing 1920s Olympic size swimming pool, entirely filled with mineral spring water heated by the volcanic spring nearby, which you can see erupting several metres into the sky from the shallow end. The accommodation is well appointed detached bungalows, with two bedrooms in each. There is a very relaxed and authentically art deco fell to the place, and I would recommend it should you ever be in the area.
Having enjoyed a quick dip in the therapeutic waters, we decided to sign up for a mud bath and massage. I turned up at the appointed hour, changed into my bathrobe and followed the attendant into the mud room, where I showered and he used a paddle to clear a space for me in the hot mud. I was then packed into the mud, leaving space for me to breathe. The mud is very heavy, but you do not feel constricted, and after twenty minutes of contemplation, you are removed with a squidgy noise, given another shower and then lead to a spa bath to clean up. A great experience!
Calistoga, although a small town, boasts some excellent restaurants, and of course splendid wine lists and we enjoyed a superb supper that evening.
For those of you interested in what is possibly the most boring tourist attraction in the world, the completely missable Petrified Forest attraction is for you. This was possibly the most dull and pointless park I have ever had the misfortune to part with $10 for. Dead trees which have turned to stone over millions of years. Robin was of course, fascinated by the whole thing! About as interesting as watching a Party Political Broadcast starring John Major.
Still clinging desperately to his guide book in search of entertainment, my travelling companion steered us into Santa Rosa - home of the Charles M Shultz Museum, packed to the gills with Snoopy memorabilia. Brand new, the complex looked impressive, although already having been stung that morning I was shy of actually going into the museum, which looked to be treating the whole thing rather seriously, and opted for the gift shop instead, which was sadly rather lacklustre.
Bodega Bay and “The Birds”
It was now time to return my fellow traveller from whence he came, and en route back to San Fran Airport we stopped off for lunch in the town where Alfred Hitchcock filmed his 1963 classic horror film “The Birds”. We ate at The Tides, the restaurant Tippie Hedren ran into to escape the flock of attacking avians in the movie. Looking up to the telegraph poles, there were an oddly large number of birds collecting on the wires, and after taking our photos, we thought it time to leave, just in case they got any ideas!
He was due to return to London that evening, so I dropped him at the new International Terminal at SFO, and returned to my more modest accommodations in the city.
I stayed at The Mosser www.themosser.com which came recommended as an economy hotel, very well appointed and brand new, just the next block along from the Argent, but without air conditioning and with shared baths. I spent my last few days in San Fran shopping and seeing remaining sights, although rain stopped play on several occasions. I decided to escape the storm and press on south back to LA, where I rented a car and drove through one of the most fierce thunderstorms I have experienced driving south to San Diego.
Rainy San Diego
San Diego is just a little too far south of LA to attract many English tourists, although you can fly there direct on BA. I enjoyed visiting the Old Town tourist area, and stayed in the bohemian Hillcrest neigbourhood, with some of the most fascist parking regulations I have ever encountered.
San Diego is famous as a major naval base, and it was interesting to note that hardly any of the fleet seemed to be in port, most being deployed already to the Gulf.
With its rich aeronautical history, the Aerospace museum was also worth a visit, and having seen these sights the rain once more caught up with me and it was time to move on.
Sunseeking in the Palm Springs Desert
Rain persisted, and with the tan now reaching perilously close to pre Florida status, it was time for another unscheduled leap into the desert, so I decided on a trip to Palm Springs for the last five days in the USA.
There are several routes from San Diego to Palm Springs. Apparently I took neither as the road which was meat to take me there gradually diminished from three lane highway to twisty curvy path, the Buick sloshing around like jelly, although whichever route I did take was incredibly scenic.
As I came to the top of the mountain, there was a rest stop and the most incredible view out over what I imagined to be Palm Springs, but what was in fact the city of Palm Desert. Basically a golf course with some houses nearby, this place was totally man made, another dividend from the Hoover Dam. I made some phone calls home on my mobile sitting on the rocks with the amazing view of golf courses sprouting in the desert.
Palm Springs is great and this was really the first place I had been able to unpack everything and I stayed for four days enjoying the sun, although winter was coming and it was beginning to get very cold in the evenings. The hotel I stayed in was very friendly and I went out for dinner with a group of people I met by the pool. The mountain which towers over the city blocked the late afternoon sun and the cloudless starry skies meant it was quite chilly at night, but a very pleasant climate during the day.
Well rested, with tan now restored, it was time to head on to the main destination of this enterprise - Australia. With a fifteen hour Qantas flight ahead of me, I thought the best plan was to get myself as tired as possible. After driving to LA and writing my postcards in the lounge, I got on the plane and after a delicious supper of roast lamb went soundly to sleep, and woke up in Melbourne, Australia.
The next stage will cover Melbourne, Adelaide and the Barossa Valley and then my three months in Sydney.
This travelogue covers my last two weeks in California, taking in San Francisco and onwards to Napa Valley, Calistoga, San Diego and finally to Palm Springs in late November.
The Great Journey – Part Three
Entering San Francisco
Now early November, my travelling companion and I decided to enter San Francisco over the Golden Gate Bridge. We could not have timed our entrance better, going over the bridge just as the sun was setting. The rusty red of the ironwork glowed, with the orange sun accentuating the gargantuan structure, the gateway to the Pacific.
I last visited San Francisco for a frenetic eight hour layover en route to Hawaii in 1998, with just a chance to do some quick shopping and a rather hairy cab ride through the city. I was looking forward to being able to spend a little more time in this great city, and gaining a perspective from those who live and work here. We had arranged to meet up with some friends during our stay, including one hardy soul who flew in from New Orleans for the weekend!
We stayed at The Argent Hotel (www.argenthotel.com/) , booked through www.expedia.com at half the usual rates, and were very impressed by the place. Located on Third St. just south of Market Street, we were close to all the shops, Union Square and other attractions, and enjoyed the spectacular views afforded by the unique floor to ceiling windows.
Having journeyed through twisty cliffside roads that day along the Pacific Coast Highway from Big Sur, we were both ready for an early night. However, just as we arrived in the hotel, the call came to meet up with friends who lived in SF, and also Mr New Orleans who had bravely flown in to see us, so we stepped out into the city almost immediately.
We had a great Chinese, and then a group of us ended the evening back at the apartment of one of our dining companions, listening to him playing the guitar, singing American Pie and clad in full Elvis white jump suit, complete with eight inch collar and side burns. What a way to start the weekend!
Scooter Buggy Caper
On Saturday we had been warned that we would be expected to take part in the First International Buggy Caper. Not entirely sure we were cut out for what sounded like extraordinary dangerous pastime, we were cautious at first, but decided we could not let the side down by wimping out, and turned up to the Wharf at the duly appointed hour.
The plan was for ten of us rent a few buggies, divide into teams of two, and drive around various landmarks in the city. All this was to be timed, and at each location, we were to take a Polaroid to prove we had got there. The first one back with all the places photographed would win.
All this sounds fair enough, except when you realise that very few of us were long term residents and were not familiar with our way around the city, this not being helped by the poor quality of the maps we were given.
Our chances of coming through this alive were further hindered by bright yellow 50cc scooter buggies, the sort of conveyance which rivalled the Trabant for sheer inability to do the job.
I decided I would be the driver in my team, bearing in mind the fact that Americans are notoriously inept on the roads. A choice I regretted. The first inkling I had that the brakes were manufactured by Mr Kipling was at the lights we came to about 200m from the rental depot. Slamming down hard, nothing happened. With an evasive manoevre Captain Kirk would have been proud of, I was able to use the turn on red rule to keep going round the corner and attempt to stop. Except it was a one way street. I was going the wrong way. And there was a large trolly bus coming in the other direction.
Slightly shaken up, but with a better idea of how to control this animal, we continued careering round the city with little or no control over the machine, brakes obviously not having been high on the agenda of the bright spark who designed this death trap. At one stage my partner had to get out and push as the machine was unable to get us up one of the steep earthquake formed inclines! It was great way to see the city, and we visited the Museum, Lombard Street (the twisty one, managed only by applying the handbrake on full to stop crashing into the vehicle in front!), the Castro and the Baseball Stadium.
The caper culminated in pulling up to the very smart Gucci store in Union Square and walking up to all the sales assistants only being allowed to say the words “wogga wogga” until one of them who was in on the joke gave us the prearranged business card.
Sunday Lunch in Tiburon
Sunday saw us taking the short drive back over the bridge to a small village called Tiburon which overlooks the city from across the Bay. Lunch was enjoyed in the sun at Sam’s Diner on their wooden deck, and we drank Daiquiris as people come in from their boats moored on the wharf adjacent. We had a very enjoyable Sunday afternoon, although the dive bombing seagulls nearly created an international incident when a misjudged squirt of daiquiri from my straw missed the offending gull and hit the lady at our neighbouring table.
Not to Be Missed Man In Bush
We visited the seals at Pier 39, on the way we experienced the most extraordinary “Man in Bush” - a homeless man who has refined his panhandling to such an extent that after fifteen years he is something of an institution. With warnings sprayed on the sidewalk “Beware - Man in Bush” this huge Zimbabwean hides behind a few tree branches, and bursts out, terrifying passers by who almost always do not see him, some of whom are quite hysterical. Jolly good fun to watch, and beats Jeremy Beadle hands down for schadenfreude (just had to use that word once in my adult life, having spent so long learning how to spell it!).
Alcatraz Island, site of the disused maximum security penitentiary, is reached by a very enjoyable ferry ride, definitely not to be missed on your San Francisco agenda, although it is recommended to book the day before you want to go.
As well as the fascinating insight to the lives of such infamous criminals as Al Capone, and the battle scars of holes in the walls dug by escapees and still visible bullet holes, Alcatraz offers a great view of the Golden Gate Bridge from the exercise yard. One unexpected story was the American Indian human rights movement which occupied the island and declared an Indian State independent of the US in the 1960s.
After the exertions of the San Francisco weekend, it was time for a break, so we journeyed north to the Napa Valley, famous for its wine. With fall just starting, the place looked very tranquil and the vineyards, which cover every available square inch of the valley, were turning golden hues.
Napa Valley and Calistoga
We enjoyed a very pleasant drive amongst the vineyards, helped by being able to see over the vines by the large SUV we were driving. The whole place is littered with what looks like jet turbines at regular intervals used for clearing the damp air to stop the grapes rotting on the vine. Our first night spent in the valley was spent at the disappointing Marriott there, which looks nothing like the photo in the brochure. We decided to head on up to Calistoga as I had heard there were excellent spas in the area and was keen to detox and wind down after the stresses of the past few months constant travelling.
We arrived in the small town of Calistoga, and turned into the first resort we saw, the Indian Springs www.indianspringscalistoga.com . The resort boasts the most amazing 1920s Olympic size swimming pool, entirely filled with mineral spring water heated by the volcanic spring nearby, which you can see erupting several metres into the sky from the shallow end. The accommodation is well appointed detached bungalows, with two bedrooms in each. There is a very relaxed and authentically art deco fell to the place, and I would recommend it should you ever be in the area.
Having enjoyed a quick dip in the therapeutic waters, we decided to sign up for a mud bath and massage. I turned up at the appointed hour, changed into my bathrobe and followed the attendant into the mud room, where I showered and he used a paddle to clear a space for me in the hot mud. I was then packed into the mud, leaving space for me to breathe. The mud is very heavy, but you do not feel constricted, and after twenty minutes of contemplation, you are removed with a squidgy noise, given another shower and then lead to a spa bath to clean up. A great experience!
Calistoga, although a small town, boasts some excellent restaurants, and of course splendid wine lists and we enjoyed a superb supper that evening.
For those of you interested in what is possibly the most boring tourist attraction in the world, the completely missable Petrified Forest attraction is for you. This was possibly the most dull and pointless park I have ever had the misfortune to part with $10 for. Dead trees which have turned to stone over millions of years. Robin was of course, fascinated by the whole thing! About as interesting as watching a Party Political Broadcast starring John Major.
Still clinging desperately to his guide book in search of entertainment, my travelling companion steered us into Santa Rosa - home of the Charles M Shultz Museum, packed to the gills with Snoopy memorabilia. Brand new, the complex looked impressive, although already having been stung that morning I was shy of actually going into the museum, which looked to be treating the whole thing rather seriously, and opted for the gift shop instead, which was sadly rather lacklustre.
Bodega Bay and “The Birds”
It was now time to return my fellow traveller from whence he came, and en route back to San Fran Airport we stopped off for lunch in the town where Alfred Hitchcock filmed his 1963 classic horror film “The Birds”. We ate at The Tides, the restaurant Tippie Hedren ran into to escape the flock of attacking avians in the movie. Looking up to the telegraph poles, there were an oddly large number of birds collecting on the wires, and after taking our photos, we thought it time to leave, just in case they got any ideas!
He was due to return to London that evening, so I dropped him at the new International Terminal at SFO, and returned to my more modest accommodations in the city.
I stayed at The Mosser www.themosser.com which came recommended as an economy hotel, very well appointed and brand new, just the next block along from the Argent, but without air conditioning and with shared baths. I spent my last few days in San Fran shopping and seeing remaining sights, although rain stopped play on several occasions. I decided to escape the storm and press on south back to LA, where I rented a car and drove through one of the most fierce thunderstorms I have experienced driving south to San Diego.
Rainy San Diego
San Diego is just a little too far south of LA to attract many English tourists, although you can fly there direct on BA. I enjoyed visiting the Old Town tourist area, and stayed in the bohemian Hillcrest neigbourhood, with some of the most fascist parking regulations I have ever encountered.
San Diego is famous as a major naval base, and it was interesting to note that hardly any of the fleet seemed to be in port, most being deployed already to the Gulf.
With its rich aeronautical history, the Aerospace museum was also worth a visit, and having seen these sights the rain once more caught up with me and it was time to move on.
Sunseeking in the Palm Springs Desert
Rain persisted, and with the tan now reaching perilously close to pre Florida status, it was time for another unscheduled leap into the desert, so I decided on a trip to Palm Springs for the last five days in the USA.
There are several routes from San Diego to Palm Springs. Apparently I took neither as the road which was meat to take me there gradually diminished from three lane highway to twisty curvy path, the Buick sloshing around like jelly, although whichever route I did take was incredibly scenic.
As I came to the top of the mountain, there was a rest stop and the most incredible view out over what I imagined to be Palm Springs, but what was in fact the city of Palm Desert. Basically a golf course with some houses nearby, this place was totally man made, another dividend from the Hoover Dam. I made some phone calls home on my mobile sitting on the rocks with the amazing view of golf courses sprouting in the desert.
Palm Springs is great and this was really the first place I had been able to unpack everything and I stayed for four days enjoying the sun, although winter was coming and it was beginning to get very cold in the evenings. The hotel I stayed in was very friendly and I went out for dinner with a group of people I met by the pool. The mountain which towers over the city blocked the late afternoon sun and the cloudless starry skies meant it was quite chilly at night, but a very pleasant climate during the day.
Well rested, with tan now restored, it was time to head on to the main destination of this enterprise - Australia. With a fifteen hour Qantas flight ahead of me, I thought the best plan was to get myself as tired as possible. After driving to LA and writing my postcards in the lounge, I got on the plane and after a delicious supper of roast lamb went soundly to sleep, and woke up in Melbourne, Australia.
The next stage will cover Melbourne, Adelaide and the Barossa Valley and then my three months in Sydney.
Last edited by krug; May 2, 2007 at 1:08 pm
Apr 16, 2007, 8:55 am
#2
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Original Poster
Join Date: Sep 2003
Posts: 5,735
The Great Journey Part Four