[usa22] san francisco

My final day in San Francisco I feel warrants an Italian start and so I begin in the very homely and distinctly European Cafe Puccini, with a very large iced latte. From here its a final walk up Columbus Avenue to the North Beach and the tourists and performers of Pier 39 for a final bit of gift shopping. I'm beginning to feel at home in San Francisco to the extent that I have long stopped using my guidebook to get around the North East corner of the city. I wanted to ride the Street Cable Car back into the city so I could cross it off my 'touristy-things-done' checklist, but when I get to the end of the Powell and Mason Line the ticket booth is closed for lunch. I decide not to wait and instead make the uphill hike back to the hotel.

For the afternoon I'm heading west toward the picturesque Alamo Square and the Golden Gate Park beyond. I make a stop-off at the Visitor Information Center in the city where in a curious reversal of fortunes I end up giving the woman behind the desk tips on how I should get to the airport. Eventually she recommends I book the shuttle I suggested to her. I had seen Alamo Square depicted on a number of watercolours and postcards in the gift shops of Fisherman's Wharf and was keen to take it in for myself. The green space is bordered by wooden houses typical of the San Francisco hills beyond which is a view of the various skyscrapers of the city's Financial centre. After a few attempts to emulate the postcard images with my own snapshots I continue west toward Golden Gate Park.

At the manicured lawns and flower beds of the Park my inner football fan again gets the better of me and I find myself heading toward what's identified on the map as Kezar Stadium. Another incredibly lush football field in a seated bowl awaits and for the second time on my trip I vow to play there one day. Sitting in the stadium's seats watching various East Asian pensioners waddle around the running track I take a look at the paper map given to me by the woman at the Visitor Information Center. From here it seems it is only a mile or so to the Pacific Ocean along Lincoln Way and so I decide to continue in that direction and cross over 1st Avenue in the direction of the beach. Well over a mile and 36 block further one I decide to take another look at the map, and notice a small red box I had previously missed. This red box tells me that the area on the map to the left of Divisadero Street is not to scale. So for every half mile I thought I had just walked, I had actually walked a mile and a third. So I carry on and three miles after leaving the stadium I finally cross the Great Highway and am able to stare out at the Pacific Ocean. Not wanting to miss the opportunity to be a kid again, I take off my trainers and socks, roll up my jeans and tread gingerly across the hot sand of Ocean Beach to the waters edge for a paddle. My inner child satisfied I retreat back to the promenade and lever the sand from between my toes before heading up to Cliff House and the picturesque walks of Lincoln Park.

I head along the Coastal Path where breaks in the trees offer not only incredible views across the Bay to the Marin Headland and Golden Gate Bridge, but also incredibly steep drops to the waters below. I'm passed by countless joggers and can't help but wonder how many have come close to perishing on the rocks below on a wet winter run round this path. The sun is setting across the Ocean and my legs are beginning to tire so I decide not to head on to the Bridge and instead turn inland for the long walk back to the city centre. As a measure of how far I've come the walk takes me an hour and a half and the only stop off I take is to help an American-Asian woman close her garage door. "Thank you, I've been waiting so long for someone tall to pass by," she says, indicating that there is life after the World Cup for Peter Crouch.