dropsinthewell

I’ve been to so many state capitals over the past few years, I thought there couldn’t be anything special about them anymore. I was pleasantly surprised, however, when I arrived in Sacramento. My cousin Bryan and his lovely wife Ruth put us up and they did so graciously, considering we got there hours late.

After spending too long talking the first night, we slept in on Friday morning and then took Bryan and Ruth out to breakfast. It was enjoyable to catch up with a relative that I have had so little time with since we grew  up and we grew up on two adjacent farms in Brown County, South Dakota. That was a long time ago and we both agree it’s hard to remember those days clearly. It was still fun to visit about them.

Roy and I took off for downtown Sacramento about mid-morning. On Ruth’s  (the California native) recommendation, we tried out Old Sutter’s fort. This fascinating recreation of the original Sutter’s Fort outlined the life of Swiss immigrant John Sutter in his quest for a meaningful purpose to his life. As you walked from display to display, motion-sensitive audio tapes gave a meaningful and interesting talk about the fort, detailing among other things the fact that it was from this fort that rescue parties were attempted to bring the Donner party out of their winter trap in the mountains.

Sutter attempted to set up a sawmill quite some distance to the north of this fort and upon the discovery of gold at that sawmill, he lost all of his workers and eventually, his thriving business of the fort was dissolved.

After Sutter’s Fort, we went to the California Museum, also in downtown Sacramento. This was an excellent museum with a bewildering amount of information. Two of the displays we found the most interesting were the Japanese relocation in World War II and the Tuskegee Airman exhibits.

We also visited the State Capital building downtown. Although we did not go inside, it was a beautiful sight, and just what you would expect: a white building gleaming in the sun with palm trees against its walls and lining the paths. The perfect setting!

After these views, we left downtown Sacramento and went north to Coloma, where Sutter built his famous sawmill. Although we missed the museum, we were able to see the recreated sawmill next to the creek of gold and a recreated cabin in which John Marshall stayed and where he was living when he discovered the gold. An audio at the cabin was very interesting in its descriptions of the people.

Having been very late for supper on Thursday night, we were determined to be at Bryan and Ruth’s early on Friday night. We arrived in time for a delicious supper served by Ruth and at which we had the chance to meet her sister, who was in town.

I went shopping with Ruth and her sister to get myself some books, as I am now without my Kindle (wonder who is to blame for that.) We had another wonderful visit with Bryan and Ruth that evening. I know Bryan’s a little nervous, now, since he knows I can find his house! Seriously, it was with reluctance that we ate another fabulous meal that Ruth fixed and left them this morning, with a renewed reminder of how important family is.

I sometimes wonder how we survived and traveled in the days before instantaneous communication and how we entertained ourselves at all. I had a chance to ponder this on our first day on the road after San Franscico.

After renting a car, we headed out of the city over the Golden Gate Bridge. I have to admit, I’d have been a little disappointed to leave there any other way. It was cool to drive on the bridge and  take pictures of its bronze suspension system at the same time.

We traveled north out of the bay area because we wanted to see the redwoods of Miur Woods. While I’m not much of a naturalist, I have to admit that these trees, not always so huge around, were definitely taller than anything I’d ever seen. You have to have some respect for the fortitude of trees that can withstand anything nature throws at them and which have been doing that since before the United States was formed.

From the Miur Woods we went further north to Point Reyes, which is about as far out on the coastline of California as you can go without a boat. It was on the way up to Point Reyes that our first indication came that our technology could fail us. The cell phone, which had seemed to be enough charged for the day in San Francisco, gave us a warning beep that the battery was low. Not a problem, we could just get the car charger out and plug it in…except the car charger was in our car….back home. We turned it off, hoping to conserve power and continued on our way.

Point Reyes was beautiful. Again, I’m not a naturalist, but this area of coastline was beautiful. We traveled along through historic ranches (simply the people who are actually living and working cattle out there) and made out way out to the lighthouse at the point.

We stopped along the way to try and spot sea lions and the wind off the ocean was stronger than a South Dakota blizzard…indeed, there was sand blowing in finger drifts across the road, much like snow. While it wasn’t as a cold a wind as a blizzard, it sent a chill through us and we sprinted back to the car for jackets.

We finally reached the fartherest that we could drive and got out to the sight and sound of the ocean waves pounding the shore far below the cliff we were on. The wind was so strong and so constant up there that trees were growing sideways instead of straight up. The tops of the trees appeared to be pointing out to the ocean instead of up to the sky! There was some more climbing “up” to get to the tip of the cliff. Indeed, it seemed we climbed a long way in a cold gale.

When we reached the outpost viewing platform, we could see the ocean before us and the lighthouse below us–300 steps down. That, of course, meant you would also have 300 steps back up. Given the fact that this is considered one of the windiest spots in the country (regular winds at 40 mph and gusts of up to 100) about the time we got there, they were closing the steps because the wind was so strong they were afraid of people literally being blown off of them or down them! I was not sorry, but I think Roy was disappointed.

We came back and then took another car route out to see some more sea lions. This is where the second technology blunder came: Roy went walking out with the camera and I decided to stay at the car and perhaps read the last chapter of the book I had been following on my Kindle. Guess what? No Kindle. I tore that car apart, went through every bag and suitcase and finally had to come to the realization that I had actually left my Kindle in San Francisco.

I immediately tried to call the motel and, either there was no power or no signal on the telephone. Roy came back with great pictures and stories of the sea lions, but we were a little dampened by the possible loss of my reading books…on my Kindle!

Back on the main road, we were miraculously able to get the telephone to work. We called the motel and those wonderful people had already found the Kindle and were making arrangements to ship it back to me.

Feeling a little better, we headed on down the road towards Sacramento, where we were supposed to spend the evening and night with my cousin. We had a late start, and were hurrying along on what we thought was the shortest route when we came across the mother of all traffic jams. There we sat, locked in traffic that refused to move (and we were in the middle of the countryside) and we knew that my cousin and his wife were expecting us for dinner. Nothing to do but call them.

The third technology issue: the phone, which had eased our minds about the Kindle had apparently given its all, because it wouldn’t even turn on! So there we sat, buried in traffic, with the clock telling us we were now officially late, and no way to let them know that we were not just inconsiderate slobs!

We finally broke out of the traffic jam, but it forced us to go miles out of our way. We were actually considerng the possibility of stopping and offering some gas station employee five dollars to borrow their phone, when we reached a town with a decent-sized fast food selection.

And that’s where technology saved us. I found a restaurant with free wireless and was able to get my computer up (and it was none too well charged) and contact people through e-mail.

We finally made it – very late – to my cousin’s house, with many apologies for our tardiness. They were understanding, But technology has become incredibly important to the traveler of the modern world. We charged our cell phone and our computer and we made sure we had all the proper cords for our GPS. Traveling is most definitely not the Wells-Fargo stagecoach anymore! Now if only I had my Kindle so I could read in the car….

We spent the morning today at one of San Francisco’s most popular sites: the island of Alcatraz, the site of one of America’s most famous and fascinating maximum prisons. It was an interesting way to spend a day of vacation, but it was a visit that will stick in my mind for a long time.

If you get to San Francisco, I suggest you take the shuttle boats offered to travel out and see the grim structures on the island. I expected to see just history about the prison, but I was surprised to learn that the island served first as a miliitary fort and a military prison for Civil War soldiers. You can still see the remnants of the Civil War portion of the buildings. I also saw evidence of an occupation of the island in the 1970s by protesting American Indians.

But without a doubt, the most imposing part of the visit is a trip up an extremely steep hill to the maximum security prison, now abandoned, which sits on top of the hill. The audio self-guided tour is an absolute must and the sound effects of the audio will actually cause you to jump and turn, expecting to see the prisoners and their guards behind you.

The cells are mostly empty now and oppressively small. Most people have seen pictures of the tiered cells stacked up three high, but seeing it is a very impressive site. It’s hard to think about the men, prisoners and guards, who died out there. While I’m not an expert on ghosts, I did feel oppressed and subdued out there, as if the essence of what these men went through is still there.

As impressive as the walk through the cells is, the view from the walkways is probably even more poignant. It is a mile or so away by water to the city of San Francisco, remining the men on a daily basis what it was that they were cut off from.

It’s an interesting trip out to the former prison, but it’s one of the few places where I didn’t even want to visit the gift shop. There’s something about buying prison-type lunch trays or hats that say “Property of Alcatraz” on them that take away from the solemnity of the occasion.

Alcatraz draws many people from all over the world, and if you are going to San Francisco, it is definitely worth your time!

Have you ever noticed that when people travel together, there is a dominant trip partner and a recessive trip partner? Roy is the dominant partner in our travels and I am the one who is along for the ride. He religiously reads the travel books, gleans fascinating information and facts and unravels the deep mysteries of the public transit systems in strange cities.

 I’ve noticed we are not alone in this. Other people get on public buses and immediately pocket theirs and their partner’s bus passes. Other couples sit together, one patiently watching the other read maps and figure out routes. The dominant always asks the questions, always buys the tickets and always leads the way.This has always been the way for Roy and I.

I’m so used to it, I don’t even notice that I’m kind of the dead weight of the travel group. So, when the dominant partner makes a misstep, it’s a real disaster and with the recessive dead weight along for the panic ride, it can become exciting, but not fun!

Today, we had such an epic fail. Two days in San Francisco and Roy has the bus system pretty much figured out. He drags me to the bus stop he wants and then orders, “Watch for bus 30 going to Caltram Depot.” Then he studies the map. “Here comes 30!” I excitedly head for the bus. “That bus is 30 going to Jefferson,” he says calmly dragging me back to the curb. It was going so well. I never figure out how he stands in the midst of tall buildings in a big city and figures streets and directions, but I am definitely in awe of his ability. And that’s why today was odd.

I blame it on the cable car.We decided one just doesn’t visit San Francisco and not ride the cable cars. After having done it, I don’t necessarily recommend it. We stood in a long, sunny line for a little over an hour, were assailed by terrible music from a nearby panhandler who wasn’t too shy to beg for donations, and in the end, we were packed so tightly into the cable car that we could see nothing but the stomachs of the people standing in front of us. And we were the lucky ones, because at least we got to sit.

The car jerked and rumbled and bumped its way up and down the hilly (and when I say hilly, I MEAN it) streets, and every so often, the driver would stop and pack a few more people in the car. It was very claustrophobic for everyone and it precluded us from seeing anything. About all we got were sore bottoms from the rough ride and claustrophobia.

When we got off, Roy said, “We’re not waiting in line for another hour to bump blindly back down the street in the cable car, we’ll take the Number 30 back up the hill and it will go practically right by our hotel.” That sounded like an excellent plan, but it didn’t go well. First, we had to walk five blocks to find a bus stop with a 30 bus stopping at it. After we got there, we were convinced by a native of the city to take the express bus.

It’s not like Roy to take random advice that goes against what he has figured out for himself, but for some reason, the dominant partner made a mistake and got on the express bus, so of course, the recessive partner went along. Ten blocks into the bus ride, Roy decided we were wrong, so then, we made our second mistake: we got off the bus in a strange spot, with no recognizable bus stops and a street that we couldn’t find on our map.

We began rushing madly up the street in the direction we thought we should go. It doesn’t help when the recessive partner perceives that the dominant partner is somewhat panicked, because at least in my case, I was willing to help with the panic.

And that’s when I discovered a new definition for lost. Lost is when you are standing on a street corner where many of the street signs are in foreign languages (at least, foreign to us), looking at a map, which mercifully was in English, and the business outside of which you have chosen to stop is a topless bar. We didn’t need English to figure that one out.

It was at this point, that Roy decided he had about had his fill of being lost and since I, as the recessive partner, was doing my part by panicking, it was up to him to get us out of it. Whether it was his outstanding skill at this or sheer dumb luck, he managed to find a bus stop just down that street which had the right bus and the next thing we knew, we were on our way back to our hotel and the adventure was over.

Roy doesn’t have many epic fails when it comes to getting us around on our travels and today I was reminded that this is a very good thing!

It’s funny the difference a day can make. This morning, I got up in a quiet little home in West St. Paul, kissed my grandson on the head and took off out the door. Because Martin, my son-in-law, allows his generosity to overcome his common sense, Roy and I took the first leg of our journey in his Explorer. We parked it at the Minneapolis light rail station and we knew a moment of angnst as we contemplated locking the keys into the Explorer. After all, once we had done this, we were pretty much on our own and anything left inside, was not going to be going on vacation with us.

We spent an inordinate amount of time in the Minneapolis airport and that’s when I had my first random thought of the day: I’m so glad I’m not an employee of the airlines! They spend the whole day trying to get nervous, demanding, cranky, upset and otherwise intolerant people safely on planes to the right places with all their parcels and they must do it all whilst trying to guess which of these persons might be someone who wants to blow us all up so they can make a political statement or live in infamy! I heard one man grousing as he came through the security, “Before you know it, they’ll be having us travel naked!” The security clerk behind the desk intoned with a straight face, “Well, it would certainly save on the luggage check wouldn’t it sir.” As for me, I’ll gladly take off my belt, watch, shoes, jacket, etc. and stand in their little scanners and have all my personal items sorted through, just so long as they do manage to catch the nut who thinks blowing up my plane will improve the world!

It was at exactly 11:30 Central Daylight time and after we were lined up in the plane like sardines in a can that I had my second random thought: I should have packed a sandwich. Instead, Roy and I put in our time on the three-hour flight to San Francisco trying to make do with two cups of iced Coke and a packet of airline cookies that were seriously not Sara Lee or even General Lee in quality.

Our first thought when we got off the plane was: i want some food! We managed to find a poorly cooked toasted sandwich (one) in a small airport restaurant. I think the sandwich was a leftover from lunch…two days ago, but they made up for that by charging us as though it were the last bite of food on the planet and worth its weight in platinum. And we were so hungry that we actually ate the whole thing! The hunt for food was on.

We caught a shuttle to our hotel. The shuttle driver, who turned out to be pretty cool, figured out pretty fast that it was our first trip to San Franscico, so he took some of the sharp, steep hills with all the finesse of Steve McQueen in a scene from Bullit. It was actually pretty fun! Our hotel is an institution which is seriously the cutest, quaintest motel. And when I say cute, I mean small and when I say quaint, I mean expensive! It’s an older motel that relies heavily on atmosphere and despite my nasty words, I do find it to be a very unique little home for the next three nights.

We took a bus almost at once out to the bay because our next thought…not so random…was “where is this Golden Gate Bridge?” There is a sight that will not disappoint you. The bronzed cables and metal work rise up out of a beautiful bay and even though you’ve seen it a thousand times in pictures, it really is an awesome sight. We took pictures of the bay and the ocean and only about one hundred shots of that bridge. The view was clear today and we could see Alcatraz squatting out in the water and we tried to get down to Fort Point, but couldn’t find the right path.

We were still starving, so we did what we rarely do: we went into the snack shop at the Presidio and figured we’d get a Pepsi and a Snickers. Negatory. We ended up with a water and two of the flatest, hardest oatmeal cookies we have ever eaten. They were like flattened cardboard with twigs stuck in them, but we were so hungry, we ate them. They made the airline cookies seem like Mother’s homemade.  I wanted to go in and tell the cook, “In South Dakota, they make oatmeal cookies that you can sink your teeth in. Here you make cookies I could break my teeth on!”

After hiking around the Presidio and walking a ways out on the Golden Gate Bridge, which was really fun and really safe, because with empty stomachs, we wouldn’t cause the bridge to collapse, we left the bay, knowing full well we will never be able to convey in words what a beautiful sight it is.

We came  back to our motel still on a quest for food. We walked a couple of blocks and found an Italian place. We figured that was safe. They didn’t have cola products. What self-respecting eating place has no Coke and no Pepsi? Isn’t that illegal or something? They had a special on meatballs and so we decided to order that, but like a certain little place in Washington, DC that will be forever burned in my mind, everything else was extra. So, Roy ordered the small special of meatballs (which had no side) and I ordered the large order of meatballs and a side dish. We had no idea how much it cost or how much we got. Roy got three very small and very spicy meatballs and I got five with a small dish of roasted potatoes. I wanted to ask for butter and salt for them but I had a feeling that would display my rather prosaic eating habits, so I ate them plain. I shared my meatballs with Roy–okay, I gave him one of mine, that way we both had four! They asked if we wanted desert and we said no and paid the bill–which was not small and left. Truth was, I had my eye on a little desert place we had seen on the way down to the restaurant. It was called “Walgreens” and they not only had Pepsi–they also had Snickers!

And that’s how I managed to get up in a quiet little home in West St. Paul this morning and come to rest tonight in this quaint little hotel in San Francisco. Isn’t modern travel wonderful? Now if they could just do something about these cookies they’re handing out!