Californi
abeaming
TRAVEL.‘
Ruth Hedges heads to America’s Golden State, following in the tyre tracks of the original road-tripper, Jack Kerouac.
an Francisco. Golden Gate
Bridge. Big Sur. Say the
words slowly. The sun shines in their shapes and syllables: possibility stretches out. California is the land of dreams and destination. where boats have arrived in quest of new worlds: pioneers have fought their way across rivers and canyons: chancers and the desperate have swarmed for the promise of gold and poets have driven thousands of miles for the ride. the stories. the hell of it.
Our first morning in San Francisco. the sun is shining and the light is playing patterns on the gold and blue wallpaper. Chateau Tivoli. with its moose heads. writing cabinets and a pianoforte. is a restored guest house from the late 19th century. where San Francisco‘s ; actors. singers. musicians and travelling entertainers found their digs. Some of the atmosphere remains — shabby chic. you could say. Sunday breakfast includes a glass of champagne. and guests are served cheese and wine every
afternoon. A glass of bubbly down and the day ahead. we walk towards Golden Gate Park. Perhaps because it‘s a Sunday. perhaps because it’s so warm. but perhaps. just because it really is. the park feels Utopian: children playing. families walking. cyclists pedalling. roller-bladers whooshing. even a space for jiving — anyone welcome. Pay $3 and you can enter the enchanted Japanese tea garden and climb over steep. arched bridges and sip tea.
Ifnlike anywhere else in California. San Francisco is a place where you don‘t need a car. It is a public transport-lover's delight with buses. trams. subways and the bell- clanging cable cars shuttling you up and down hills. across town from Nob Hill to North Beach and around the bay from Golden Gate Bridge to Fisherman‘s Wharf. We head out to the famous bridge. spanning across into Marin County. It is as beautiful as all pictures suggest and underneath there is a well-used beach. a boardwalk and a path for wandering along to the
tacky. touristy and fun Fisherman‘s Wharf where you can eat well at any price. from clam chowder out of a big bread roll. to line sea food. all served with a view of the sun sinking into the sea and the sound
MOVING SLOWLY UP A BANK IS A MOUNTAIN LION, ITS LONG TAIL SLINKING THROUGH THE UNDERGROWTH
of wild sea lions barking in the dusk.
Walking home we discover another San Francisco. It’s dark. we‘re in Tenderloin and people are stumbling down the roads. hanging about in doorways. out of their minds. The next day I find out that the state employed a policy of turning people out of mental
Sunshine state (clockwise from top left): Drakes Bay on Point Reyes National Seashore; Golden Gate Park’s Japanese tea garden; diner dining; the funfair at Santa Cruz
institutions with no provision. Is this where the Tories got the idea from. or did we give it to them'.’ Or maybe this has always been part of the city. Jack Kerouac‘s first impressions. published over Si) years ago in ()n the Road. were: ‘Iiverybody looked like a broken- down movie extra. a withered starlet; disenchanted stunt-men. midget auto-racers. poignant California characters with their end- of—the continent sadness . . . ‘
lt lives on. and. as the beat boy would have done himself. we get some wheels and get on the road. Over the bridge and out of the city — whoohoo! We head north to Point Reyes National Seashore. where. at the park‘s Bear Valley Visitor Centre. you can book a spot in one of the 'hike in~ campsites. We choose one by the sea. but not before reading advice on what to do if you encounter a mountain lion (‘wave your arms and fight back aggressively" being the best tip). The walk is about three miles and it is quiet. but not still. Rustlings in
1€9.J;iri Bin-ti THE LIST 85