The End of the Tour

Three hundred and fifty-eight days (just shy of one year) after Tucker and I arrived back from our last location gig and subsequent trek across the States, we loaded up our trusty steed and headed north. Back home to the redwoods… sort of.
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Although our weekend personal getaways take us to San Francisco proper, our own home-away-homes during our location gigs have always been among the redwoods on the peninsula. There, the sidewalks are paved with fallen leaves and the smell of earth permeates everything, even when the windows are closed.

This time though, there were no such cabins available. As a runner up for accommodations, I had been hoping for a beach house in Pacifica or even a house in Daly City that might have a yard but even that search came up empty. And then, a week before take off, a search lacking filters came up with this beauty (photo from MLS):

It was as if someone had secretly stolen a redwood cabin from the woods and tucked it away in their backyard in the city. Although I would miss my morning walks in the woods, the commute to work would be wonderfully short, and once the door to the street was closed, Tucker and I would have our own private cabin. No one floor flat and no cramped quarters of a junior one bedroom like the other city options I had inquired about. A proper house (only 700 square feet, but still a stand alone house), in a small garden, where Tucker and I could be safe, secure, and forget we were only steps away from a concrete jungle.

I must admit though: it's not all concrete.

At the end of our street, just a ten to fifteen walk away (depending on how much sniffing Tucker needs to do), is Kite Hill—a quarter acre mound of green where numerous trails from different parts of the city (and elevations of the city) intersect. Here, people come to just look out across the bay or let their dogs socialize in the morning. 

Even within the city, there are strange pockets of nature, as if nature fought back, refusing to give up every square inch to manmade edifices—no matter how beautiful they might be.

​One afternoon Tucker and I wandered about this forest known as Sutro Park which, although it had only a couple miles of trails, seemed many miles away from the city that surrounds it.

Tucker found this meta art piece rather ridiculous. Humans are always trying to replicate Mother Nature's work, but here in her own gallery it was blasphemous. 

On the other hand, this is exactly what this city is about: little gems of creativity and individuality. And an incredible respect and reverence for nature. This was merely someone's expression of that. That love of nature is reflected in the architecture and in the city design as a whole.

Just from Kite Hill, I could see three green spaces: Corona Heights, Tank Hill, Twin Peaks. I could see people on those mounds of earth, so I estimated they couldn't possibly be that far sway. I decided Tucker and I should trek to a couple of those green spaces and get to know the city.

Indeed it was not far—it just a lot of ups and downs to get there.
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Corona Heights Park was only half an hour walk on city streets before our feet touched soil again. Up through the dog park to the tippy-top where we could see much more of the city and the bay.

That mound out near the water is San Bruno Mountain. I had looked into staying near there as well, but learned that Tucker would not be allowed on that grassy knoll. It's one of the few green spaces within the city that is not dog friendly. It was immediately taken off my list of possibilities.

Although Corona Heights offered a lovely view of the Bay, I still longed for the westward view, the ocean, the place where the fog rolls in, and so we headed northwest to Tank Hill.

Many hills (and about twenty minutes) later, we arrived at its base. There, in the distance, those two little reddish pillars are the Golden Gate Bridge.

​We climbed the hill to find more people here than at Corona Heights. 

Everyone was standing facing east, looking out at the Bay that we had seen from Corona Heights. I wanted something different. So we went around the rocky outcropping to find the view that suited us better:

​There was still city, but much more of Nature and a lot less of Man to be seen.

​Tucker and I sat on the grassy knoll with rocks behind us, getting to see the most of nature that we could this deep in the city.

​San Francisco is a beautiful city. I’m not knocking it. I’m just more of a woods and sea kind of person. However, every night when I walk Tucker, I take the time to really see every individual house (and hope no one thinks I’m casing the joint) to appreciate the attention to detail. The details make up the whole and every distinctly individualized house makes up the city itself. These patches of green spread about the hills and valleys is what makes San Francisco so unique. People realized that Nature is important and that open space must be preserved. It’s why real estate is so expensive here: there’s a limited amount to reside in. The rest is for Mother Nature.

​Even secret passageways have the touch of Nature—like this one we took to get down from Tank Hill. It’s called Pemberton Lane—four city blocks of stairs. And on every riser flat was an entrance to a home. People live here as if tucked away in a fairie glen.

In under two hours, Tucker and I had traversed over four miles of the city and spent a good deal of that time on soft earth. So overall, it’s not bad to live in the city. But we will absolutely be venturing beyond the city streets as often as we can to be under towering canopies of redwoods and along the shore, taking in the sea air and watching the fog roll in.

And that's another great thing about San Francisco: you don't even need to leave it to get to the ocean.