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| 2006 Best Of The Bay: A Vision Of The Future | ||||||||||||
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| lllustration by Mona Caron |
Despite being a smoker, a boozer, and an eternal night owl, I've somehow found myself slowly being sucked into the naturalist world. Recently I went to a lecture given by Greg Gaar at CounterPulse, as part of the arts and lecture space’s "Nature in the City" series. Gaar treated attendees to an evening of slides from his vast and amazing archives of local history, a wonderful journey through San Francisco's natural past made all the more endearing by Gaar's dry delivery, as in: "See this asphalt parking lot? [Click.] Well, it used to be this creek."
Amid images of an old dairy farm, a hearty buckeye growing in an unlikely spot under a freeway, and the winter's day in 1887 when San Francisco received up to seven inches of snow, there was a snapshot of a weedy plant bearing delicate yellow blooms and sitting prettily on a coastal hillside. A member of the mustard family, this local variety is known as the Franciscan wallflower (Erysimum franciscanum). Its name charmed me, as it had never occurred to me before that there might be an actual bud associated with the somewhat derogatory term "wallflower." It's kind of sweet to think that resident introverts can have a mascot to call their own. And they can consider themselves part of a rare species, as the wallflower isn't as plentiful in these parts as it once was.
Turns out there are lots of other franciscanum-esque types that aren't faring too well either, such as the iridescent-winged mission blue butterfly we've all heard about. Given that our area is at least two-thirds surrounded by water, the local flora and fauna tend to be a breed apart from the rest. And with every supplanting and paving, as Gaar pointed out, precious habitat has been lost and our native populations have declined.
As you might imagine, little has stayed the same since ’49, when the fools for gold showed up. But some changes are hard to fathom. Lone Mountain, the former town burial ground and current site of USF's main campus, used to be 100 feet taller. That was before the cemetery, back when the western half of our fist-shaped peninsula, once known as Yerba Buena, was little more than windswept sand dunes in the west and a small enclave of Ohlone and their missionaries toward the east. As the area developed into a city, those hills, hospitable to beautiful little desert flowers like the dune gilia but not to settlers' homes, started shrinking.
To get the big picture of how the city went from dunes to development, I got a map, titled “Wild in the City” and sponsored by the Planet Drum Foundation, that puts a pre-1870 San Francisco side by side with a post-1990s one. A dotted line surrounding old San Francisco indicates that our city's borders have expanded into the bay and ocean quite a bit over the years, which might explain where some of that mountaintop went. You can also see how rivers carve through the land and pool into lakes. That's all underground now, of course.
As spring set in, I started hunting for wallflowers, so as to commune in person with the early bloomers. Plus, it was the perfect excuse to go to parks with a shy bird-watcher I fancied. We hiked up Folsom Street, past that tree festooned with tiny, hand-knitted red sweaters, one for each fallen US soldier in Iraq, and up to the top of Bernal Hill. After one lap around the park, I could only say for sure that I saw a mustard something, but its leaves didn't resemble the actual native I sought. Along the way, my birding friend pointed out the chirps of bushtits and a kestrel perched on a telephone wire.
A week or so later we tried the Bay View hill overlooking Monster Park to no avail, though I did learn how to tell the difference between a red-tailed hawk and a turkey vulture in flight. Then I e-mailed a guy who works for the National Park Service in the Presidio, who wrote back saying that the sites of some rehabitation efforts are kept from the public — so as to protect the seedlings from the destructive gaze of onlookers, I suppose. The coastal trail he suggested yielded not a single wallflower sighting, though I could see that other indigenous blooms were budding in the patches of land that had been cleared of foreign intruders — and I’m happy to say that my ever-conscientious birder answered nature’s call at the trunk of an interloping eucalyptus tree.
It hadn't occurred to me that the wallflower would be so difficult to spot. So I decided to talk to Planet Drum's Peter Berg to find out how we can make the city more inhabitable for native plants, and why we might want to do that anyway. Berg, who back in 1989 wrote a plan recommending a green program for the city and recently edited Reinhabiting a Separate Country, the Bioregional Anthology of Northern California (Planet Drum), had a lot to say on the subject.
He explained how the world can be divided into bioregions, the entirety of an area fed by a watershed. Our watershed starts in Mount Shasta, the source of the Sacramento River, and extends down to Big Sur. Our climate: winter wet and summer dry. The dominant characteristic of our bioregion is diversity, from the redwoods and 16 varieties of oaks to the geologic mixture of volcanic rock and the green granite stone called serpentine that you can see in outcroppings on Potrero Hill.
According to Berg, bioregions should aim to be self-reliant, and humans can either be in harmony with their bioregion or destroy it. If you accept sustainability as a goal, harmony must be restored. That might mean we have to tear up some ballparks, which are nothing more than green pavement to Berg. We could uncover some of those creeks to increase the local biodiversity or start pumping the underground wells and relying on our own water supply instead of Hetch Hetchy. If we diverted Market Street uphill some more, we could extend Glen Canyon Park all the way up to Twin Peaks, which could help bring back critters like the California quail, which need a lot of open space for feeding and shrubbery for hiding from predators.
Though the concrete and eucalyptus plantations have crowded out many homegrown creatures, my friend and I did finally manage to make wallflower contact before summer dried up all the wildflowers — while on a bird-watching venture in Glen Canyon Park, no less. I could see the telltale four-petal flowers through my binoculars. Upon closer inspection, the pointy leaves confirmed it for me.
So all is not lost. And if the wallflower makes a comeback, then maybe rents can roll back to early-’90s rates, corporations won't own the naming rights to the football field, and my bird-watcher will stay gold — even if he does revert back to his wallflowery ways. But I’ll still be going wild in the city.
Editor's Picks
Spin class is for twits when you live in such a gorgeous place, and the Tiburon Loop ("the Tib" to those in the know) is one of the best ways to bomb through 40 miles, three hours, and about 2,400 calories. The popular cycling route has a well-paced mix of hills and straights, and the best stretch is the seven miles of Tiburon Peninsula they rightly call Paradise Drive. The chichi Café Acri on Main Street is accustomed to regular spandex infiltration and has a water cooler, a bowl of bananas, bike racks, outdoor seating, and moist pineapple bran muffins. A couple tips: Stop for all the lights in Sausalito; Marin County cops are humorless and bored, and a ticket will cost you a couple of Ben Franklin's finest. If you ride from the city, on your way home after the bridge as you enter the Presidio, bear right onto Merchant Road, Lincoln Boulevard, and Washington to avoid the bitch pitch of Arguello or Presidio boulevards. You'll be cooled off or blown off your trek by a fresh sea breeze and a sparkly ocean view. For some good routes of varying difficulties, go to www.inl.org/bicycle/tiburon.html. If you get lost, just draft off the next rider you see. Most likely, they're tibbin' it too.
BEST SPOT TO CATCH SOME NAKED NET
OK, so perhaps there wasn't a lot of competition in the category " Best Place to Play Nude Volleyball." After all, not everyone has what it takes to bump-set-spike while letting it all hang out. But those who do can appreciate what a gem the north side of Baker Beach is — and the sublime joy of a fun-loving game with naked friends and strangers. Between points you can enjoy great views of the coast and Golden Gate Bridge while relative seclusion shields you from the views of everyone but kindred spirits and a handful of looky-loo beachcombers. If you're friendly and your intentions seem true, the Baker regulars in the northern corner under the shade structure will invite you to join their games. Their net is set up on most of the best "Baker days." But if you want to be assured of a game, bring your own net and balls.
BEST WAY TO MAKE YOUR ESCARGOTS GO
Remember the sadistic childhood days of pouring salt on snails and watching them dissolve before your eyes? Wouldn't it have been better to hire a young woman dressed in striped socks, a wig, and a conical straw hat festooned with shells and floral antennae to visit your garden by the light of the moon and pluck up the little guys, using only a headlamp and her instincts? For a $20-per-hour "pail rate," Miss Snail Pail (a.k.a. Colleen Flanigan) will rid your garden of snails — and if you like, tell you how to purge, fast, and cook them (snail jerky, anyone?) — and turn the shells into tiny candles ("escarglow"). She shudders at the mention of Sluggo and other pesticides, which pollute water and render the snails inedible; if you're not an organic gardener already, she'll be happy to lead you slowly but surely along the glistening trail to a pest-free and protein-filled home.
609 Seventh St., Pacific Grove. www.misssnailpail.org, (415) 350-0020
BEST PLACE TO SCORE A DATE (PALM)
Some people argue that palm trees are out of place in Northern California. In fact, palm trees thrive in our rugged, liberal, intellectual clime, sheltering everyone from the Mission Street homeless to de Young philanthropists. One step into the Palm Broker's garden, and it won't be long before a flatbed truck and tower crane are pulling up to your home, bearing your own proud specimen. The staff will help you select, install, and maintain a palm — or a "palmscape" — for your garden, whether it's a Twin Peaks terrace or the alley behind your recycling bins. Trees range from a $4 sprout to the rare $25,000 Chilean wine palm; among the most popular are the fast-growing Queen palm, the small pygmy date palm, and the prestigious Canary Island date palm. Whatever you select, you can rest assured that you're supporting the northern immigration of these flamboyant yet adaptable plants — not, after all, unlike yourself.
1074 Guerrero, SF. (415) 626-PALM, www.thepalmbroker.com
BEST BIKE ROUTE FOR STARGAZERS
San Francisco is perhaps one of the least friendly cities for stargazing. Sure, our light pollution can’t begin to compare with that of New York or Tokyo, but with the relentless fog that envelopes our city, stargazing isn’t a popular or practical pastime. But if you're determined to drink in the Milky Way, take a nighttime bicycle trek out to Hawk Hill in the Marin Headlands. Bicycles are allowed to cross Golden Gate Bridge on the east side at night; simply ring the buzzer at the closed gate. Ride across the bridge and under the pedestrian-bicycle underpass, through the Vista Point parking lot, and then turn left on Conzelman Drive. The road winds steeply uphill along the coast for two and a half miles. About two-thirds of the way up, the road is gated after dusk, barring entry for cars and, supposedly, bicycles as well; from here you can continue on foot or choose to break the rules. Make your way through the tunnel and walk to the top of Kite Hill, which is crowned with an abandoned WWII battery. It's not exactly the starstruck vista of Big Sky Country, but it's nature Bay Area style.
BEST WAY TO HANG TEN WITH YOUR MOUSE
Let's face it: With ice-cold water, riptides, and a great white breeding ground, surfing is not for everyone. To satisfy your surf curiosity without actually having to paddle out, check out local surf Web site Blakestah.com. A handy resource for surfers and nonsurfers alike, Blakestah does more than just provide curl-friendly coast forecasts. It also features technical data about wind currents, tidal information, and links to official weather sites and lists local surf shops, surf movie nights, surf art shows, beach cleanups, and many other events. There’s even information about sharks in our very own Red Triangle, useful for those concerned about possible attacks. Dave Blake launched Blakestah in 1996 as a compilation of weather resources and to make his own surf forecasts, and it’s now the longest-running surf forecaster on the Web. He recently passed on the forecasting work to his friend Gioni Pasquinelli, but the site remains an electronic gathering place for the Ocean Beach surf community and armchair surfers.
BEST OLD-SCHOOL STREET SURFING
In the mid- to late-’70s, when kids rode short, narrow skateboards with loose trucks, before the days of ollies and skate parks, the place to street surf in San Francisco was called Cragmont. Today the occasional street surfer still enjoys the Cragmont route, which winds along numerous streets between 14th Avenue and Quintara and Ninth Avenue and Judah, alternating north and east. Though never great, the street surface is better than most, and traffic in this Inner Sunset neighborhood is light for San Francisco. Kids and grown kids can hop on the 6 Parnassus bus (which runs until 1:40 a.m.) at Ninth and Judah, get off at Cragmont and Quintara, and skate back to where they started, either bombing down Ortega or cruising over a block or two and going parallel. With a one-and-a-half-hour transfer, the dedicated street surfer can get the most out of his or her Muni money.
The headquarters of Nature in the City is a small room in founder Peter Brastow's Cole Valley home, where the view of his Edenic backyard inspires his mission to encourage city dwellers to engage with nature. Founded just over a year ago as a project of Earth Island Institute, Nature in the City has paired up with Shaping San Francisco for a regular series of spring and fall talks at CounterPulse, on everything from local edibles to international activism. It also works with neighborhood organizations like the Haight Ashbury Stewards. Brastow has mapped the natural areas of the city and is working on creating "the best urban nature Web site in the world," but he hopes to inspire more weeding than reading. "As people connect to the land with their hands, they become committed to getting involved as advocates," Brastow says. He’s also hoping to recruit more members. "Most volunteers now are in their 60s, 70s, and 80s, who have been retired and full-time advocates for decades. The question is, how can more people integrate activism into their daily lives?"
(415) 564-4107, www.natureinthecity.org
Wine Country is Wallet Country, so it's no surprise that the few campgrounds near the Russian River are either high-rent or jam-packed (or both). But then there's Warm Spring Recreation Area near Lake Sonoma: gorgeous, affordable, and smack in the middle of the Alexander Valley wine region. The drive-in campground sits a mile above the many fingers of the 2,700-acre lake; some sites have a lake view, others look upon vine-striped hills. You can also bring (or rent) a boat and camp out lakeside. The grounds lack running water (said to result from a decision by the US Army Corps of Engineers to drill for nonexisting groundwater rather than use water from the lake). But hey, the lack of amenities means a less-crowded campground, a dip in the lake's more refreshing than any shower — and who needs water when you've got wine? The trip to the lake takes you down Dry Creek Road, from which you can take a short side tasting-shopping trip to one of dozens of wineries (just follow the signposts along the way, and try Murphy-Goode for reds, Ferrari-Carano for fume blanc).
3333 Skaggs Springs Road, Geyserville. (707) 433-9483, www.reserveusa.com/nrrs/ca/wasp
BEST GOBSMACKER OF A BOCCE COURT
Shaded by a small shelter and surrounded by a chain-link fence, the dusty, unkempt lanes at the Aquatic Park bocce courts may not appear inviting at first glance, and neither might the very serious pro players who practice here (San Francisco is home to two world-class competitors, Mario Cuneo and Benji Tosi). But the dilapidation is made up for by the marvelous waterfront view and the languorous game itself, which seems to have been invented for playing between bites of panini and slurps of red wine, and which finds its ultimate expression in sets overlooking a gobsmacking vista of the bay. Most afternoons you can learn the ropes by spying on a group of older Italian American players — the city's bocce roots are in its Italian immigrant community (the game was a pastime for ancient Roman soldiers). And the scraggly lanes, with their rundown clubhouse, still have the vibe of their 1950s heyday, when the courts were open to men only and "Little Italy" was a neighborhood rather than a star on a tourist map. But a proposed extension of the F streetcar line may require the courts to be razed or at least relocated. A final triumph, if it goes through, of old-timeyness over authentic history.
Van Ness and Beach, Aquatic Park, SF. (415) 274-0201
BEST REMINDER TO STOP AND SQUEEZE THE MAYONNAISE
People who wax nostalgic about their childhood often strike us as being amnesiac or delusional, but if there is one thing we miss about being knee-high to a feral parrot, it is that first-time rush of discovery that turns the merely ordinary into the extraordinary. There are those who manage to retain their fresh eyes into adulthood, and as luck would have it, conceptual artist Kate Pocrass is one such person. The adjective might be in its title, but Pocrass's Mundane Journeys guide to San Francisco is anything but. Eschewing typical guidebook intention, Mundane Journeys takes us down familiar streets while highlighting their most unfamiliar aspects. Each interactive journey, with titles like "Think About the Mailman" and "Catch the Money," is playfully conceived and illustrated with charming simplicity by Patrick J. Kavanagh. Herein you'll find the best source for Cuban soft drinks, the best use for bubble tea, and the luckiest cheap cologne in town. Even the most jaded of residents will find their capacity for wonderment increasing with every expedition. Watch for the upcoming second edition in an independent bookstore near you.
www.mundanejourneys.com
Remember how you felt the first time a fellow cyclist showed you the way to "the wiggle"? How relieved you were to discover it wasn't necessary to haul your sorry single-gear cruiser up the Haight Street hills en route to Golden Gate Park? This private knowledge, handed down like a grandmother's recipe for artichoke dip through generations of bicyclists, has now been made emphatically public with the appearance of official MTA street signs and "share-ows" demarcating the flattest route from Market Street to the Panhandle. With a minimum of fanfare the new route markers, emblazoned with quirky wiggle lines and posted along various street corners from the Duboce bikeway to the Fell Street bike lane, appeared just before this year's Bike to Work Day — one more piece of the long-awaited Citywide Bike Network puzzle to fall pleasingly into place.
What more awaits you, street cyclist? You have seen the waters of the bay in full sun, cruised past the tourist mills of Fisherman's Wharf, and rolled down the grassy, sheer slopes of the Headlands. You wonder: Is that all there is? Far from it. The long flat stretches, railroad tracks, broken glass, and potholes of Third Street and its concrete fiefdoms await you. Places normally hazarded only by car are the urban cyclist's final frontier. China Basin, India Basin, Islais Creek: expansive views, glimpses of an apocalyptic landscape slowly gentrifying, and fun-filled romps through various construction sites and sun-dappled cement cathedrals. A scattering of bars and clubs and a great yard full of huge shipping containers line the future pathway of the Third Street Light Rail, and near Illinois Street you catch glimpses of artists lugging cumbersome packages wrapped in butcher paper. Further in, past grand abandoned warehouses scrawled with graffiti, you hear the electric sounds of bands practicing. You can't tell if the music is good from this distance. But it is a damn good day to ride a bike.
BEST LOVELY BIKE ROUTE FOR MASOCHISTS
Maybe you're going a bit too easy on yourself. Maybe you haven't truly earned your time on the asphalt. A ride up 17th Street is the real thing, though. Start pedaling straight up Haight, from Market and Gough clear to Golden Gate Park. Take your time up Market. Enjoy the ride, the palm trees, the neighborhood. At the intersection of Divisadero and Market, angle your front wheel slightly to the right, and begin the ascent. Pace yourself. It's OK to stop and catch your breath. Right below the crest of the hill, before the final ascent, is a little flat spot right at the intersection of Uranus. No jokes, please. At the top, at the intersection of Clayton, pause and look back. By night the city is a plate of jewels spread out before you. By day she is a banquet. Turn back again and down towards Cole, a sharp drop. A right on Stanyan and a left on Parnassus brings you to another hill — a mere molehill to you now. A final plateau awaits, and your passage through the UCSF corridor is a victory lap, stars dancing at the fringes of your vision. In moments you will be above Judah Street, the Sunset plain awaiting your swift wheels. You're a bicycle mercenary.
One of the reasons we find ourselves on the treadmill at the gym, even when it's nice outside, is that there's a sort of satisfaction in knowing exactly how far you've run. The meter that reads four miles offers a lot more satisfaction than "out to the 19th Avenue overpass and back." That's one of the nice things about the Bernal Hill loop — it not only skirts the lovely Bernal Hill park, but it's almost exactly a mile long (or so we're told by a friendly cop who drove her car around it once, before they put the road gates up). It's also a great place for hill training — the route is basically all up and down. The view is spectacular — you get a nearly 360-degree panorama of the city — and as long as you don't mind a bunch of dogs racing around underfoot, it's pretty much the perfect San Francisco run.
Oh, Rusty Wells, we have such a crush on you. But not just because you're a kick-ass Urban Bhakti Flow yoga instructor. Or because most of the classes that you teach are pay what you can. Or because your melodic singing voice is the stuff that Cole Porter dreams of. Or even because you travel the globe spreading the sweet love of sweat and devotion that comes from an affirming, life-enriching, abs-sculpting power class. We adore you because you are so charming and charismatic. Even though your classes are always mat-to-mat, you still have room in your heart for a kind word or an adjustment for every student in the room, maintaining a personal touch that must be difficult to sustain in such mass quantities. A great big namaste to you.
(415) 333-YOGA, www.rustywells.com
Working charter boats is for chumps. Turn the key in the ignition, throw up some canvas, motor-sail around the bay, smile a lot, point to some "dolphins," get a fat tip. And there are a fair number of "skippers" out there who don’t deserve the Coast Guard–issued captain’s licenses they carry in their waterproof wallets. But Steven "Sparky" Pomianowski of Spinnaker Sailing is different. Salty and sun-hardened, Sparky got his sea legs sailing for Greenpeace back when French CIA agents were planting bombs on their boats. Climb aboard his vessel and sail into adventure. When the engine of his boat quit out by Angel Island recently, he assessed the flood tide to be favorable and continued course under a double-reefed mainsail (no Coast Guard needed, thank you), entering the port with slipway, his sails tacking back and forth like a second seed America's Cup entrant. Using every bit of seaway to his advantage, Sparky gently laid the ship portside to the dock. Fat tip.
Spinnaker Sailing, Pier 40, South Beach Harbor, SF. (415) 543-7333, www.spinnaker-sailing.com
Everyone had a girl like Christabel Zamor in their sixth-grade class. She had long brown hair, big eyes, and the uncanny ability to draw a crowd with her enchanting hula-hoop skills. Her hooping would stop playground traffic as everyone paused to take note of the strange sensations in their stomachs and, oddly enough, in their naughty areas. Gorgeous, athletic, and seductive, Zamor has changed very little since those days. She can still hoop like no other and she still draws a crowd. Zamor, otherwise known as HoopGirl, has capitalized on the inherent sexiness of hula-hooping by devising an erotic workout plan using the “toy” as her only piece of equipment. You can see her perform at various clubs throughout the city or even get a private lesson. Hoop it up.
(415) 515-0469, www.hoopgirl.com
He’s smart, he’s funny, he has a tremendous depth of knowledge about sports (and the business of sports), and his philosophical comments are sometimes even better than his sharp analysis. He's Ray Ratto, sports columnist for the San Francisco Chronicle. Here's Ratto on rich athletes behaving badly: "No amount of stupidity performed by this gifted/privileged class will convince the other members of that class to behave as though they still have a sense of shame." Ratto on the Internet: "Anything that doesn't get you led away in cuffs while the neighbors tell TV reporters that they always thought you were up to something makes you stronger." Ratto on the World Cup: “The American contribution to the World Cup is now complete, so let's look at the bright side — at least Bruce Arena didn't say anything that calls for sensitivity training.” You get the point: Ray Ratto is one of the few remaining good reasons to read the Chronicle.
Most bike rides have one glaring flaw: They’re loops. All that pedaling and there you are, right back where you started. But this 20-mile station-to-station ride, Orinda BART to Castro Valley BART (via Moraga Way, Canyon Road, Pinehurst Road, and Redwood Road), takes you through some of the most beautiful country in the East Bay in a noncircular way. The bulk of the ride is on East Bay Municipal Utility District watershed land, which means it’s lightly trafficked, and once you’ve passed the hamlet on Canyon Road, virtually uninhabited. It’s hard to believe that only a few miles separate you from the urban bustle as you ride through quiet canyons, shady forests, and sunny chaparral. Although the terrain is rolling (the ride incorporates about 1,000 feet of climbing), the ascents are for the most part mild and well separated. If your bike has gears and you know how to use them, you should have no problem. And you won't feel like you're going in circles.
Of the many balls you’ll notice on an afternoon walk through Mission Dolores Park, at least this guy’s won't be hanging out of a pair of pink booty shorts. Instead, they'll be flying over the heads of annoyed sunbathers or bouncing through soccer matches and Frisbee sessions. Chad Gholson's semiofficial kickball league (well the word "league" is perhaps too strong for the scene at Dolores) is more midday bacchanal than serious sporting event, but that doesn’t mean there’s a lack of healthy competition in the air. Indeed, some members of Chad’s crew have begun to talk about uniforms, rules, and scorekeeping. Whatever, dudes. Go harsh someone else’s mellow. For now the bases are made of beer cans and half the players stand around drunk and smoking, waiting for the chance to show off with a no-spill home run. Come join in before the squares get their way and the fun stops. It doesn’t matter who you are or exactly when you show up (Sundays from about noon to 5 p.m.). The only rule is BYOB.
Mission Dolores Park, between Church and Dolores and 18th and 20th streets, SF.
Maybe it's a little premature to give this award to a project that’s still mostly in its conceptual phases, but the Blue Greenway has already opened up hidden coastal pathways along the city's eastern shore and dotted them with cool public art pieces. So we wanted to be the first to recognize what promises to unite San Francisco landlubbers with their aquatically inclined brethren along a coastline long covered up by the city's industrial past. The project to create a trail along the 13-mile stretch of shoreline between China Basin and Candlestick Point started six months ago with the convening of a task force, which in June revealed its plans, facilitated art installations, and started offering tours. Neglected walking and biking trails at Warm Springs Cove and around the now-closed Hunters Point Power Plant are getting much-needed attention, and ambitious plans are being formulated to open up to the public the old Union Iron Works and other relics of our industrial heyday, as well as to acquire more coastal open space to complete the multicounty Bay Trail. Best of all, the project promises to help the southeast part of town get the open space it needs and to provide more pathways for uniting this corridor with the rest of the city, all while promoting the hiking and bicycling that make for a healthy lifestyle.
www.bluegreenway.org
BEST ROAD TO TEST-DRIVE YOUR MIDLIFE CRISIS
With the elevation changes of a gargantuan roller coaster, high mountain meadows, fabulous sightlines, and sheer 500-foot drop-offs, Route 130 from San Jose to Patterson is a driver's delight. In the 1880s, eccentric western fortune-builder James Lick (also responsible for Golden Gate Park's Conservatory of Flowers) dedicated some of his wealth to have the Lick Observatory built on Mt. Hamilton's summit — on the condition that the state would build a road to it. The current two-lane, forested western portion of Route 130 still follows the original ox and horse-and-buggy road fairly faithfully — with its tight and twisty corners, it's the Alfa Romeo stretch of the route. The eastern half, with sweepers that let the fast-and-furious automotive enthusiast get up into fifth gear, is the muscular, Ferrari-appropriate stretch, with high mountain meadows and sheer drops to awe driver and prize passenger alike.
"They dream/They dream of/Dreams about/Themselves." So says the Jack Spicer verse carved into the Embarcadero sidewalk as part of the San Francisco Arts Commission's Waterfront Transportation Project. The project stretches the length of the Embarcadero and evokes plenty more ghosts of San Francisco's past through poetry and anecdotes plastered onto pylons, plaques, and podiums, the reading of which involves dodging a stream of bikers, bladers, and boarders — but is definitely worth the risk. Take the black, yellow, and white pylon near Pier 32. It recalls Bloody Thursday, July 5, 1934, when 1,000 cops battled 5,000 union members to the slopes of Rincon Hill. Or the list naming the 23 men who died during the construction of the Bay Bridge. Stand outside Pier 40, once the immigration point for the city's Chinese population, listen to the echo of hammers on railroads, smell the laundry and exotic cigars, and enjoy Marlon Hom's bittersweet poem: "Remembering my village/I wish to follow the geese/Home." As fingers of fog expand across the city, ruminate on Harold Gilliam's haunting imagery: "In San Francisco, the fog is ... a daily drama ... the mystery of imagined happenings, the suspected drama of half-seen comings and goings, of ships and shadows ... and men moving like ghosts in the billows."
www.sfartscommission.org
You have to be a little bit crazy to rock climb for recreation. Who voluntarily submits themselves to such a finger-abusing, joint-aching activity? Yet all it takes is the smallest of rock faces (natural or artificial) and you’re hooked. Take Mission Cliffs Rock Climbing Center, where the various climbing walls with colorful handholds make the locale look like an oversize jungle gym. Mission Cliffs can provide that perfect first challenge or make even the most experienced of climbers huff and puff, and a trained and fully equipped staff is there to address any questions and concerns. While rock climbing is among the more demanding of physical activities, it’s also among the most rewarding; looking straight down and seeing your progress is inspiration enough to spur you on. Work, family, pretensions, love handles, dating problems ... all slide away as you rise above. It’s just you and the wall, baby. And that’s what the sport is all about: the emotional and physical catharsis you undergo. So when life gives you a wall, freakin' climb it.
2295 Harrison, SF. (415) 550-0515, www.touchstoneclimbing.com
BEST FLIPPIN’ BRAZILIAN COORDINATION CLASSES
If break dancing and martial arts happened to meet in Brazil one hot summer night, capoeira would most likely turn up sooner or later as their love child. A combination of rhythmic, improvisational dance performance and combat, capoeira consists of two participants moving to Brazilian percussion while attempting a bevy of sweeping kicks, nimble dodges, and one-handed flips. Performed skillfully, capoeira becomes a flawless, exceedingly complex flurry of activity with no pause in motion, no lost efficiency between participants. Of course if you’re like us, the adjective "skillful" may not always apply to your coordination or sense of rhythm. Which is why it's nice to know that ABADA-Capoeira is willing to help those interested, no requisite hand-eye coordination needed. Classes on Tuesdays and Thursdays introduce students to preliminary forms and stretches, hopefully preventing an overzealous flip and resulting groin pull. Leave the windmills and one-hand handstands to Mestranda Marcia "Cigarra" Triedler and the other capoeira professionals.
3221 22nd St., SF. (415) 206-0650, www.abada.org
Although they may have a pinch or two of sugar in their tanks, the instructors at queer-friendly Triangle Tae Kwan Do Club are anything but sweet. Indeed, they're a fierce bunch of experts who will kick your ass into next week without a moment's hesitation. The fighting techniques they teach are equally vicious, deadly, and efficient — specially designed to ward off evildoers with the greatest of ease and the most fabulous of nonchalant styles. The main objective of Triangle is to empower the Bay Area LGBTQQ community with training in the ancient martial arts. In keeping with its motto, "Equality-Diversity," however, the club also encourages inner-city youth, disabled people, and the elderly to attend. Rumor is, they'll even let you in if you're straight. You just have to get down on your knees and beg a little. The Triangle Tae Kwon Doe Club is a member of the Triangle Martial Arts Association, a not-for-profit group offering low-cost instruction to all students 10 years and older.
(415) 495-1888, www.triangletkd.org
Local nonprofit Healing Waters organizes camping expeditions, sea kayak outings, and white-water rafting trips down the American River for people living with HIV and AIDS. It's Healing Waters’ Liquid Camp for Teens program, however, that makes the group truly outstanding. A weeklong trek down the south fork of the American River, Liquid Camp for Teens is a life-affirming encounter with nature for HIV-positive young adults from all over the country. They learn to communicate with and depend on one another while coming to terms with their illness. Above all, the program tries to teach the kids that they're not alone. The instructors and staff at Healing Waters are well versed in outdoor instruction methods, and the medical staff is on hand day and night to provide special care. The organization offers trips for adults every other weekend from May to October. Its annual Liquid Camp for Teens outing is free and takes place every July.
167 Fell, SF. (415) 552-1190, www.hwater.org
BEST ATHLETIC WORLD OF DIFFERENCE
Potrero Hill’s World Gym is a true people's gym — a friendly institution with a strong sense of family and community: You can find owners Robin and Joe Talmadge, Potrero Hill natives who founded it in 1989, there most every day. World is a serious training gym for pros (Barry Bonds, Nate Thurmond, Achim "Mr. Universe" Albrecht), but that doesn't scare off an eclectic group of amateur StairMaster puffers (cops, firefighters, schoolteachers, entrepreneurs, socialites, fugitives from downtown and Silicon Valley, UCSF grad students, Chronicle executives, and even a guy who lives in his van on the street). The gym's most distinctive feature is its core of 20 or so independent personal trainers, who have their own clientele and are allowed to operate their training businesses there. They've chosen World Gym as their home base because of the quality of the gym's fitness equipment (Joe, a former competitive body builder, has laid out the equipment for maximum efficiency) and the atmosphere of informal professionalism. Each trainer has his or her own specialty — such as Shari, who handles mature women and men, and Cinder, who works with larger women and makes them feel comfortable in the gym. A world of difference with an eye toward better health.
290 De Haro, SF. (415) 703-9650
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