Day 6: Birth of a Revolution

In the Paris of the West

 Raeray awakened on Day 6 with no pressure to hit the road. We’ll be staying in San Rafael for two more nights, until Michael Ray has to catch an 11:35 a.m. flight back to Nashville. Raeray’s other half, Morgan Rae, will continue the adventure on her own from there. At this point, San Francisco is the most beautiful city she’s ever seen, but she’s not looking for big-city life. It’s easy to understand, though, how so many people have left their hearts in San Francisco.

The day’s plan was to see as much of the city as possible, leaving the Redwoods and nearby peaks for Saturday morning. Hippie instincts were calling Raeray to the cradle of the movement – Haight and Ashbury streets – or as locals call it, The Haight. We found a spot to parallel park just a half-block from the famous intersection. A meter accepted credit cards for the $2.50-per-hour fee with a two-hour limit. With Penny Lane tethered to Morgan Rae, we began our expedition, heading south toward Golden Gate Park. A guitarist was preparing to play at one storefront, and an artist had laid out paintings in front of another. An antique clothing boutique was a flash back in time with its pill box hats like Grandma Cash used to wear and authentic flapper dresses from the Roaring ‘20s. Farther down the street was a traditional hardware store with racks of live plants outside. Along the grassy edge of Golden Gate Park, four artists had set up shop, each with a distinctive style. One did Oriental paintings, another worked in acrylics, a third painted local landscapes and the other did metal etchings. They were pleased to discuss their works with passersby. Record shops, music stores, eateries and more boutiques lined the opposite side of Haight back to Ashbury and beyond. A red building at 1524 Haight was once Jimi Hendrix’s home, and around the corner were addresses assigned to Janis Joplin and Jerry Garcia.

Neither of the latter houses boast any special markings. The Garcia address is often cited in tourist books as the Grateful Dead House. The band used it as a home base only from 1966 to 1968, but it has become legendary. It is less than two blocks off Haight at 710 Ashbury Street. Raeray found a couple from New York standing out front with their toddler daughter and another young woman from Canada. We chatted with them about how inconspicuous this was for a major attraction, and as we talked a woman came out the door with a large dog. She sat down on the steps eating a sandwich. She was maybe in her 60s and identified herself as Francine. She said Deadheads do often pester her, but this is a good place to live. She bought it 30 years ago, when she decided to move here from New York City. She had been living in Manhattan, and her sister was involved in real estate in San Francisco. This house just happened to be available, she said, and at that time “it was no big deal” that Jerry had ever lived there. She raised a son and a daughter there with her husband and continues to enjoy the location. A few years ago, a film crew contacted her about allowing them to bring another Dead founder, Bob Weir, in with his family as part of a documentary. She reluctantly agreed and said she was impressed by how gracious he was. She did see a Grateful Dead concert before Jerry died in 1995.

From Haight Ashbury, Raeray headed along the edge of Golden Gate Park to Ocean Beach. Morgan Rae has spent much of the last six week at Ocean Beach in San Diego, and she expected this one to be similar. Not so. In Southern California, privately owned shops line the streets selling unique local creations and featuring culinary delicacies. San Francisco’s Ocean Beach is across a four-lane boulevard and hidden by dunes with a smattering of shops and a few restaurants scattered across a 10-block area nearby. But the sand and sea do not disappoint. The shoreline is wide and the surf churns for those brave enough to don wetsuits and surfboards. There are miles to walk along the ebbing and flowing of the tide. Sharp rocks add to the beauty where a historic building known as the Cliff House overlooks the beach. The structure is part of Golden State Park and operates as a restaurant.

Raeray had an early dinner at the Java Beach Café at the end of Judah Street. The eatery was primarily a sandwich shop, but its menu also featured some specialty items. Morgan Rae tried a hummus veggie bagel and bowl of broccoli-cheddar soup; Michael Ray had dried tomato quiche with a small salad. Most impressive at the Java Café were the soup and a house salad dressing that we declared the “best ever.” It was a mix of Dijon mustard, shallots, olive oil, salt and pepper, according to the server. We’ll try to make it at home. The time was nearing sundown and Raeray was beachside. We hadn’t watched the sun drop over the water in two days. We walked down the beach a mile or so talking to strangers while Penny Lane played with other dogs. Light clouds scattered the brilliance of the sun as it reflected over the waves. Surfers’ silhouettes bobbed in the distance, and the sky turned a brilliant pink as darkness fell.

One last challenge awaited before Raeray returned to San Rafael. We needed to find and navigate Lombard Street. This famous lane has a block-long stretch that consists of eight hairpin curves. It has been called the crookedest street in the world. We found the street itself after getting lost in The Presidio of San Francisco – one of the many massive parks spread across the city. We began on the four-lane end of Lombard which is The 101 and continued to the intersection of Van Ness Avenue, where Lombard almost disappears. The famous portion of the street is up a steep incline and over the crest of a hill. Morgan Rae was shocked when the street became lined by walls, paved with bricks and as twisted as a Slinkie. She slowly made her way down. From there, we drove quickly through Fisherman’s Wharf with its Friday night traffic and back to San Rafael. We’ll check out the wharf in the daylight of Day 6.