San Francisco, CA (United States)

San Francisco's Chinatown is the oldest in North America and the largest Chinese community outside Asia. Even without the tiled roofs, watching the ladies doing tai-chi exercises and old men hunched over strange board games in the park makes you feel like you've stepped into another country. Lunch in the business district was tasty with a spicy conch salad, thin-sliced pickled beef, and perfectly steamed baby bok choi. After multiple shots of teas with names like Red Robe and Iron Goddess at a free tasting, we caved to an expensive purchase of a Lapsang Souchong - surprisingly delicate on the smoke - from what must have been the most jaded, yet knowledgeable, barista ever.
Me: “Which one's your favorite?”
Mr. Bore-ista: “This one here. It's not as astringent as the variety usually is.”
Long silence.
Me: “Er, can we try it?”
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista sighs.
Long silence.
Mr. Bore-ista: “I guess.”

Not content with your average Alcatraz trip, we opted to see the bay under sail. Eagerly boarding the 135-year-old scow schooner Alma, we learned the commands and helped raise the sails. This was not an easy task even with a dozen people hauling. There's something quite fantastic hearing some old salt roar, “Avast!” on the sea, and I learned “Heave!” and “Ho!” is a thoroughly valid call-and-response onboard. Rich even got to steer the big wheel for a while using that ancient combination of feeling the wind, keeping an eye to the sails, lining her up with coastal landmarks… and an app on a tablet tucked away on a shelf. Besides circumnavigating the prison from The Rock and other films, we also got to watch out for harbor porpoises playing in the bay. The rest of the San Francisco Maritime National Historic Park is well-worth a visit, too, as there are other restored ships to see. Like the Balclutha, which hauled cargo like timber to Australia, coal, and Alaskan salmon before her retirement, and on the day we visited, was being painstakingly re-caulked in traditional fashion: a guy on his hands and knees pouring hot tar from a metal pitcher. Sea lions were also resting on the docks with far fewer spectators than the famous ones that took over pier 39.

Further down is tourist central – Fisherman's Wharf. We lingered long enough to fill our bellies with 2 local favorites: sandwich rolls packed with dungeness crab and shrimp and clam chowder in Boudin's sourdough bread bowls. But the real winner for Rich was the Musée Mécanique, a penny arcade filled with antique games. It's clear they were originally intended as adult amusements since a variety of machines showed a gruesome fascination with reproducing different methods of executions with puppetry. The mechanic fortune tellers spit out mixed forecasts of my future, and my luck definitely took a turn for the worse as I lost to Rich at wind-up races for horses, cars, and even firemen going up ladders. Still, a handful of quarters is pretty cheap entertainment by California standards.

Other great deals were nights at the museum. The DeYoung Museum was completely free with an experimental band playing in the hall. The tower afforded lovely views of the San Francisco skyline, and Rich and I got our hands dirty learning to make felt for an interactive project by the artist-in-residence. The California Academy of Sciences Nightlife was a reduced priced ticket for adults only to explore the wonders of the Philippine coral reef exhibit – hey, we just saw those guys! -, wander up the spiral walkway in the glass-encased tropical rainforest, or take in a show at the Planetarium. With the bartenders – or are they all mixologists in San Francisco? - serving up cocktail specials and a rooftop garden, it's the coolest night spot in town. As a nod to the Outside Lands Festival dominating the rest of Golden Gate Park, there were concerts in the back garden and even a DJ inside playing Damon Albarn's funky beats!

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North America

Yosemite National Park, CA, Part II (United States)

The brochure on Yosemite they hand you at the entrance gives horrifying yet darkly humorous warnings about bears (“Keep food within arm's reach, in a food locker, a bear-resistant canister, or hard-sided hotel room.”) and mountain lions (“Pick up children so they look larger. Attacks are rare, but if you are attacked, fight back.”) But after a good night's sleep in one of the last remaining rooms in nearby Groveland, we discovered the real danger to us was forest fires. If we hadn't seen the line of fire trucks just outside of town, driven past scorched trees and through billowing smoke, a road-side Smokey Bear was holding up a sign with the hazard level marked “High” each day of our visit there.

Though the popular trails can be teeming, Rich was happy to find that taking a side trail, or indeed, any in the high country quickly thinned crowds to a mere handful. The hike to Sentinel Dome was one such and afforded 360-degree views including some of the park's biggest stars: El Capitán, Lower and Upper Yosemite Falls, Half Dome, and Clouds Rest. Man, this place is awesome! ...and I mean that in the truest sense of the word, or as Eddie Izzard puts it, “1000 hot dogs awesome.” Eavesdropping on a big family, the rock climbers in the bunch were regaling their audience with stories of how long it took to find a free climb route up The Nose of El Capitán – 14 years! Evidently, climbers tackling the 3000-ft granite monolith sleep in bivouac sacks anchored to the rock face and wake every couple of hours in the night to put balm on their fingers in an attempt to regrow the skin. Yikes!

Taft Point is an overlook that requires a measure of courage itself. What may look like narrow cracks in the wide expanse of granite are actually deep fissures you can actually see drop down to the valley floor 3500 ft below. You can walk right up to the edge – although crawling is a much, much safer option - to look over the side, at least until the vertigo gets the better of you. A family of Spaniards – I suppose we were visiting in August – were giving their mother panic attacks with their antics. ¡Hostia!

It is, arguably though, a better view than at Glacier Point, which is where all of the coach buses and RVs seem to empty out. Good spot for people-watching. I saw a Japanese tourist taking dozens of photos with a giant lens, which I know a friend once paid $1000 just to rent, then whip out his iPhone for a selfie. Seriously?! We did get to speak to a retired ranger/fire crew boss about the forest fires, and he also shared his ax to grind about another agency – the U.S. Forest Service, which allows logging and mining on the land it manages.

The Mariposa Grove was closed for restoration so we stopped into the Tuolumne Grove to see the giant sequoias. Related to the coastal redwoods we saw in Muir Woods, these titans are even more impressive. Sequoiadendron giganteum, growing up to 85 m (~279 ft) in height and 8 m (~26 ft) in diameter, is the largest living thing in the world. There was one in the grove with an old picture of someone driving a coach and horses through the gap in the bottom! You can crawl through a tunnel created by the hollowed trunk of another felled giant sequoia. Rich took the opportunity to do a Bran Stark impression engulfed in its gnarled roots.

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North America

Central Valley and Yosemite National Park, CA (United States)

Hearing about the California drought in the news all the time, and people buying up land just for the water rights like a nightmare out of Dune, it was fascinating driving through the agricultural behemoth that is the Central Valley. Farmers here grow over 200 different crops, providing a third of all produce grown in the U.S. We drove past livestock grazing determinedly in yellowed pastures and reservoirs with depths of exposed rock showing shockingly low water from historic levels. The only breaks in the parched earth were patches of directed irrigation to each fruit tree or crop row... and some bastards' houses with suspiciously green lawns. In a landscape that hearkens back to the Dust Bowl, how is that even allowed?!

On a positive note though, we were headed to Yosemite! One of the first National Parks and a UNESCO World Heritage Site, people have been lobbying to protect it one way or another since the mid-1800s. Covering roughly 750,000 acres (~300,000 hectares), this huge tract of wilderness in the Sierra Nevada Mountains attracts nearly 4 million tourists each year. Inside there is a free shuttle bus system to the different trail heads and visitor centers, a brilliant idea to cut down the traffic in the park and chaos of finding parking. Following the ranger's suggestion – and what looked like everybody else's plans - we stretched our legs on the hike from Happy Isles to Vernal Fall and onward to Nevada Fall via the Mist Trail. Why they are officially called “Fall” and not “Falls,” I have no idea. The trail follows the Merced River, and even with the drought, the steep drops of the falls are impressive. A good workout, too, as it's about 600 steps in the granite. Random people passing us made references to the Denver Broncos, and it took us a while to solve the mystery. Rich's Durham Bulls cap looked remarkably similar to a Broncos one: Both are animals with steam coming out their nostrils jumping through a big orange D on a blue background. Weird!

After working up a sweat, the open stretches of Emerald Pool and Silver Apron Beach at the midpoint start to look mighty fine for a swim if slipping to your death weren't a real hazard. The scenery flattens out a bit at the top of Vernal Fall in pretty much the idealized version of mountain stream in the woods - an idyllic spot for a picnic and dip for tired feet.  Heading back down via the easier John Muir Trail gave us nice views back toward Mount Broderick and Liberty Cap. Much to our chagrin, the whole loop – only 5.4 miles (~8.7 km) - took us over 6 hours... but, hey, the gain in elevation was 2000 ft (~610 m)!  

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North America

Stinson Beach and Point Reyes National Seashore, CA (United States)

Feeling a little peckish, we stopped off in Stinson Beach in Marin County. The west coast town reminded us of our favorite Ocracoke with its art galleries, beach-themed shops, and daytrippers headed out to the sand. Lunch was fine, if a bit pricey, and we were pleasantly surprised by the live music. The older gal in flounced skirt, cowboy boots, and black stetson, chatting and making the rounds on the deck, ended up being the frontman of the band. We abandoned our misconceptions when they launched their set. A penchant for Serge Gainsbourg manifested itself in a charming style they were calling “Francobilly.”

Wandering back and forth in a GPS-dead zone, we eventually found Duxbury Reef. The marine protected area is one of the largest shale reefs in North America. We had intended to spend a few hours indulging in a pastime of Rich's childhood that I had never experienced: exploring tidal pools for urchins, starfish, and other sea creatures. Sadly, our delays meant that we arrived to find the tide was up, and there would be nothing to see for hours.

We caught a feel for what we missed in the exhibits at the Bear Valley Visitor Center of the Point Reyes National Seashore. There was even a display of nudibranches, the psychedelic-colored mollusks found at the reef, albeit crocheted versions from some local crafter.  How twee! There are 150 miles of trails at Point Reyes, but we only managed the Earthquake Trail on our brief pit stop. Interpretive signs about plate tectonics and its related damage dot the trail since the park is located on the infamous San Andreas Fault. Blue posts mark where one section of fence jumped 16 feet away in the devastating 1906 quake, which begs the question, "Where is The Rock when you need him?"  

Golden Gate Bridge and Muir Woods, CA (United States)

We figured the payment for a red-eye flight would come in physical discomfort rather than our wallets. What we didn't bargain for was the additional 1.5 hours in line in the middle of the night at the rental car office at the San Francisco. Why did we even bother making reservations if walk-ins were in the same queue? Their slogan should be “Thrifty - You Get What You Pay For.”

After a few hours of shut eye, we got back into the rental car and headed north. This route actually put us driving onto the Golden Gate Bridge. This icon of San Francisco, of California even, has spanned the 3-mile-long channel between the bay and Pacific Ocean since 1937. The bridge is popular with photographers (of course), pedestrians, bicyclists, and sadly, jumpers. This once longest suspension bridge in the world can also lay dubious claim to second most popular for suicides, since, if impacting the water at 75 mph didn't kill you, the hypothermia will finish the job.

On the other side of the bridge, we observed self-induced personal anguish. Road racers were pedaling up the punishing hills of Marin county. Sure, the scenery was ace with glimpses of the crashing waves on rocky coasts and evergreen forests. But you're still on scorching pavement, being passed none too gently by impatient SUVs and Route 1 convertibles, and going steadily - or more often, very wobbly - uphill. Just witnessing the Sisyphean struggle was akin to the pangs I feel watching those miserable sods who ski cross-country on TV, and those are Olympians!

Muir Woods National Monument - named after naturalist John Muir - was our opportunity to see the old-growth coastal redwoods. We weren't the only ones. The parking lots and subsequent shoulders of the road were packed, and we heard German, Japanese, Spanish, and French in the visitor's center. Amazingly though, most of the crowds heeded the signs for respectful quiet on the trails - even the Filipinos! Of course, there is always that one guy, and curiously enough, tonight's role was played by a Canadian sports fan loudly pontificating on his team's prospects for the season. Aside from this minor disturbance, peace and tranquility reigned in the Bohemian and Cathedral Groves. In the latter, there is even a plaque commemorating an earlier visit from international folks – delegates in town to draft and sign the United Nations Charter - to honor President Franklin Roosevelt, who died shortly before he was to open the conference.

The majestic Sequoia sempervirens can grow up to heights of 115 m, roughly 380 ft, and the trail along the ridgeline offered an interesting perspective. For most trees, it would have been high enough to down onto them, but since these are redwoods, it just meant the neck strain looking up wasn't quite so severe. The cool temperatures under the canopy were such a nice respite from the brutality of a North Carolina summer, and the forest floor was covered in a riot of ferns and clover with leaflets the size of quarters. Maybe it's the jet-lag speaking, but we felt like even the fresh air had a different quality to it, positively exhilarating with all of that photosynthesis pumping oxygen into the environment. The coastal redwoods can live 1200 - 1800 years. It's crazy to think that the entirety of our nation's history could be reduced to only a fraction of their tree rings. Not so crazy – and maybe this is the O2-mainlining talking – to imagine these giant inhabitants as ents from the Lord of the Rings.

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North America