Drive Up the California Coast: Part Four - Arriving in San Francisco 

School, business, strip club. Book store, pizza shop, strip club. 

Looking for my hostel, every sixth building I passed on a street in downtown San Francisco seemed to be a strip club - a pattern I’m sure bachelor parties with fistfuls of singles and lonely men love. 

Even though the area (near the infamous Haight-Ashbury) was brimming with incongruence and odd characters, several people I passed gave me funny looks. One of my hands was holding a bag with clothes and necessities, the other hand cradled a surfboard against my rib cage. Somehow I managed to out-incongruent a truly weird area. Win. 

This was my first time in San Francisco. I put off surfing/homeless escapades for two days to explore the city. 

The sun beamed down on normally foggy San Francisco, validating my decision to retreat to the city. Better yet, the clear skies were forecasted to continue for one more day - the last day of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, a free three-day music festival that happens every year thanks to a generous millionaire who funds the whole thing. More on that later.

I checked my bag and my board into the luggage room of the hostel, drawing more funny looks - this time from international travelers. 

I should rewind a few hours. Prior to arriving at the hostel, I happened upon a really cool area near the Golden Gate Bridge. I climbed on top of bunkers that were apparently built to defend against invaders during World War 2 and snapped some obligatory tourist pictures of the Golden Gate Bridge. I spotted a path that lead down to the beach, so I headed that way.  Out of breath joggers running the opposite way puffed past me as I descended down to a small slice of beach. 

I had no idea where Ocean Beach was, but I knew I wanted to visit it at some point during my trip.  Somehow, by driving through the rollercoaster-like streets and warm-hued houses of San Francisco, I managed to find it. I guess my internal compass is always pointing toward waves. Ocean Beach is known for being heavy and changing dramatically from hour to hour. I just wrote a story about a legendary surfboard shaper who lived near Ocean Beach for 50 years. He told me about 30-minute long paddleouts thanks to relentless waves and sweeping currents. But when it’s good, it’s good. Rumor has it that heavy barrels freight train up and down the beach. 

So back to the hostel. The rest of the night was less-than-remarkable. I met a few travellers, bought a few paperbacks at a famous bookstore while dudes lined up at the various strip clubs near my hostel. Paperbacks and strip clubs, feel as though there’s a joke here I’m missing.     

The next day I met Simon, a really cool British traveller, who was making his way through the the states. Interesting guy - his recent work experience includes McDonalds and an interview with Google. We share a mutual love of The Wire. We went to the last day of the Hardly Strictly Bluegrass Festival, and as the name hints, the festival includes more than just Bluegrass. Did I mention it was free? 

I was just stoked to go to a free concert, and was really surprised at how many great bands I discovered. Take Elbow or Duvashka (spelling?) -  no one ever talks about these bands and they were amazing. 

Prior to the concert, I told Simon he should try and impregnate a woman in every town he visits. He started talking to a girl during Elbow’s show. I nudged him, just a reminder. 

That about wraps up my San Francisco chronicles. Since this entry was missing homeless car camping, don’t worry - the next one will feature plenty of that.