From the lakes of Minnesota
To the hills of Tennessee
Across the plains of Texas
From sea to shining sea
From Detroit down to Houston
And New York to L.A.
Where’s pride in every American heart
And it’s time we stand and say
That I’m proud to be an American
Where at least I know I’m free
And I won’t forget the men who died
Who gave that right to me
And I’d gladly stand up next to you
And defend Her still today
‘Cause there ain’t no doubt
I love this land
God Bless the U.S.A.
– Lee Greenwood
Friday 16 June 2023
Day thirty and the last day. I probably – no, almost certainly – say this every time, but it’s been the best trip yet. I’ll say the same thing next year, for sure. Each time, the bar is raised. Los Angeles, Boise, Indianapolis, Chicago, St Louis and San Francisco have all delivered. It gets harder to leave each year.
I went out for an extra-long walk today, all the way down to Crissy Field near Golden Gate Bridge and back, about 10km. I figure I’m going to be spending a lot of time sitting down in one place – fifteen hours of it, from about 11:00pm this evening – so why not get in some extra steps beforehand? It may surprise you to learn that the weather was overcast and windy this morning. It’s like the Groundhog Day movie.
After breakfast and packing, we walked up (and I really do mean up) to famous Lombard Street – the second-most crooked street in America, so the joke goes, aside from Wall St. The entire city is full of steep hills and it’s amazing to me that they decided to build such a sprawling metropolis in such a hilly part of the world.
Then it was on to Fisherman’s Wharf for one last time and jumped on the Big Bus, a hop-on-hop-off double decker bus that takes a 2.5-hour loop around San Francisco and across the Golden Gate Bridge, stopping at many of the city’s most popular and iconic spots: Union Square, the Ferry Terminal, Golden Gate Park, the Palace of Fine Arts and, of course, the Golden Gate Bridge.
We hopped off near Union Square and walked up to Chinatown for some lunch. You can’t go wrong with wonton noodle soup and a couple of BBQ pork buns. Then it was back on the bus and across the Golden Gate Bridge. We were sitting up top, so the wind was quite something. We had all been warned to take off our hats before we got onto the bridge, and I could tell why. I’d love to know how many people on these busses ignore the warnings and end their tour short a cap or two?
Getting off the bus on the Marin Headlands side of the bridge – aptly known as Vista Point – we walked back across it’s length. Wind wasn’t as bad as on the bus or as it was yesterday, but it still made it’s presence known.
The sun came out, treating us to some postcard-perfect shots of the city, and we walked on to the Palace of Fine Arts via Crissy Field, retracing my steps from this morning, where we caught the Big Bus back to Fisherman’s Wharf. It was beautiful out of the wind, and the views of the Golden Gate Bridge and downtown San Francisco are hard to beat. An early dinner in one of the many good Italian restaurants there put a nice full stop on our day.
I was tired when we got back to the hotel to collect our bags and go to the airport – stick a fork in me, I’m done. It was a breeze going through security, a far cry from the usual bunfight you get in the evening at LAX’s international terminal. The only downside to flying out of San Francisco compared to LA is the extra 2-3 hours flying time.
And so ends another trip. Thirty epic days. Lots of beer. Lots of food. Lots of sunshine. Some amazing experiences that I won’t forget anytime soon – jumbotron at the Sox game, on the blue turf in Boise, up in the IndyCar Radio perch at the Indianapolis Motor Speedway, Yosemite’s waterfalls absolutely raging after an enormous winter of snow. Plus: more laughs than I could even begin to count. I’m looking forward to going home but also to coming back.
It’s been great, America. See you in 2024!
kitchtrips 