Day seven:

We "wasted" most of the day stuck in California traffic jams. There were many and they were inexplicable. California drivers aren't the best. If anyone pulls off the road, they stop and look at them. They cut one another off in traffic and cut in line if at all possible. They could all use a dash of southern hospitality.

We had another fine breakfast at the Groveland this morning. People were talking about the high water at Yosemite this year and what a great show it is, so we were lucky to see that in July. I learned that many old West characters have probably stayed at the Groveland, including Black Bart. Also learned that "Lyle" haunts one room of the place and the lights continually go off and on in that room. We were across the hall and saw no sign. The innkeeper said that oriental people will not stay in the room. Hmmm.

The drive back over the Priest grade was scarey once again, this time going downhill in bright sunlight. Most of the grade had to be negotiated in first or second gear at speeds below 20 mph. No, I'm not kidding. Cutting across middle California to the coast was totally annoying as we stretched what people varyingly called a two and one half to four hour drive into five and one half hours to reach Santa Cruz and California highway 1. The coast drive was spectacular. We stopped at numerous overlooks, but like San Francisco itself, these beaches were cold, windy, and fog was rolling across most of them keeping visibility to a minimum. Nevertheless, the hardy were there at the state park beaches, surfing in their wet suits on an almost placid sea. The surfers were patient. Beach combing attire was long pants and hooded sweatshirts, temps in the 60's with a cold wind. There were crowds at Pescadero Beach and Half Moon Bay.

Some odds and ends comments. As much as San Francisco is made for walking, and it is totally, with the name of every street engraved in the sidewalk at every corner, pedestrian traffic signals that count down, 10, 9, 8, 7, etc., as your green light wanes away, and lights that stop all traffic at busy intersections so pedestrians may walk in all directions at once, the signage for driving is not the best. The sign may say right lane this and left lane that, but when you get to the intersection, there are lanes going three directions! This happened more than once! Fast food places are few and far between, gas stations are hidden. We got off the expressway four intersections in a row to find gas at any price. And I have paid 2.69 for gas out here! Then the gas pumps don't half work: this pump is broken, that card swiper doesn't work, receipts are a rarity, and the staff couldn't care less, and don't speak English anyway. If a fast food place or gas station has a restroom, and some don't, then it is one small, men/women restroom and it is dirty. There apparently are no signs allowed on highways to direct you to gas, food, or lodging and the highway "blue" signs are hit or miss, or so last second that you pass them before you can read them. As we were searching for gas, we noticed three cars in a row get off the freeway and roll straight across to re-enter, finding nothing at the top of the exit, as we had done after driving around searching. I guess there is a lot of chaos and are a slew of angry drivers on California freeways.

In California you don't have to travel from the mountains to the ocean. They are in the same place. Oddly, to me, there are no beach homes along the coasts, but rather farm land, right up to the edge of the cliffs that plunge into the sea. Mountain ridges run along in front of you and then dive into the ocean, creating fantastic vistas of cliffs, waves crashing on rocks, platoons of pelicans, and scores of nesting birds on outcropped ocean rocks, and even an occasional beach combing person or two. You have to figure if it is freezing on these beaches on July 16, then it is never warm here. We successfully made our way back to the Chancellor hotel and had a fine dinner at Sears Fine Dining. The owner who passed away last year at 108, had recently been on Leno because he was still serving as the host of the place at that age, seating 50 patrons or so per hour. Alas, we just missed him. The wait staff average 20 years of service to the restaurant. Isn't that amazing? I tried the fried cajun catfish (no it wasn't as good as Golden's on the Square in Newnan, but was palatable). The green beans were weird looking but tasty and the french fries a delight. Sissy had a chicken/ceasar salad and tomato lintel soup and declared everything scrumptious. We checked out the people still swarminig around the Harry Potter displays in the entrance of the huge Barnes and Noble next to the Chancellor, but decided to get ours back at home rather than lug another souvenir back home. It will be a struggle for us to get on the air plane to return home for we are loaded with stuff.

Today, Sunday is our last day in town. We are planning to scope out the Coit Tower and Pier 39 and just follow our noses. San Francisco fills with people downtown during the weekends, so there are throngs of interesting people for people watching. I was expecting to see a huge homosexual presence in the town, but if they are here, they are invisible to tourists.