w i d e s c r e e n san francisco

On our San Francisco trip we had only one whole day to spend together as a family and the rental car had to be turned in by that afternoon (we spent the next few days traveling by foot, bus, trolley and cable car) so Sunday morning we got up early and headed across the Golden Gate Bridge to the Marin Headlands and walked the short one mile down to Kirby Cove. On the way to the beach, Adam and I sent Diana ahead while we explored the battery for which I have not yet discovered a name (is it a separate battery or is it considered part of Battery Spencer or Battery Kirby?). We scrambled down a steep dirt hillside from the road to poke around this old bunker. Adam was hesitant at first, the inside of the bunker gave him the creeps. Nothing like the dark little chambers in the bunkers below this one, though: Friday night we explored there and Adam and I both got the heebie-jeebies, unsavory things happen there, maybe evil rituals involving blood and household cleaners. At any rate, the worst thing we found in this sun-splashed hovel was a neatly-capped beer bottle filled with urine that reminded me of the infamous long haul truck drivers who fill up on the go and toss it in the ditch and I’ve always thought it must take a certain amount of dexterity to do that without splashing all over yourself and judging from the state of urinals in most restrooms there must be a fair amount of incidental drippage and cursing.

In the distance across the Golden Gate (on this trip I learned the waterway was called that before the bridge was built) you can see Baker Beach. We went there after lunch before heading into the heart of the city for good. I saw a lot of nude sunbathers (all men) at the north end of the beach but it didn’t surprise me because I’d heard nudity is popular there at certain times. It didn’t seem like they were having a very good time because it was windy and cold and they were concentrated at the foot of a bluff.

There wasn’t any “good’ graffiti in this bunker but it was colorful. A far cry from Freeport, Maine. Adam looks a little preppy, here.  I have to tell Diana I’m picking out Adam’s clothes for now on. I want either a freaking blue jacket or a freaking purple jacket. I really hate these in-between hybrid colors. They’re bad for pictures. I always try to leave this coat behind when we’re going somewhere.

It wasn’t your typical city view from this bunker. Adam is standing on what I would assume to be the former pedestal of the bunker’s refrigerator.

On Friday night, Adam and I were short-cutting behind the big tree you can see growing on top of the bunker below when we came across a humongous red mushroom with white spots. He was petrified and I had to finally pick him up and carry him around it. I guess that little talk about poisonous mushrooms we had last year really made an impression.

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