This adventure starts about an hour before taking the previous photo. I had decided I wanted to go visit the Golden Gate that day because I already had tickets for Alcatraz for the day after which was my last day in San Francisco. The grey tint on buildings and cars, the white sky, the steep road ahead of me… The hints were everywhere but I wasn’t looking at them.
I went to a bike shop I had carefully researched the night before, I rented a bike and started my journey with my trusty Google water bottle, one banana and some Mexican version of chips. Several minutes later the sky started to clear up while I cycled by the seaside and my optimism regarding the weather was leaving a long trail behind me.
The second hint came five minutes later. Looking back it was evident that I should have stopped and returned at that point but I come from a country where we have two important genes. One of them makes you feel like you are a “macho ibérico” and the other one is an Iberic relative of Biff Tanen from Back to the Future who sits on our shoulders and says “¿A que no hay huevos?”.
I looked back one last time.
I then looked at my mount which was impatiently waiting for me and I quickly resolved to continue pedaling.
Several minutes later here, more wet than minutes before and at a distance from the Golden Gate where you still didn’t feel like an ant I saw this.
Before crossing the gate. Depiction of an optimistic who doesn’t check the weather before leaving home. The map in the front part of the bike was necessary. It took more than 30min of pedaling to get there from where I picked the bike and it wasn’t a straight line.
When you play too many videogames the real world starts to remind you of multitude of virtual worlds, like Half-Life 2 and Minecraft in this particular case.
After the cold and deadly bottom part of the bridge this is next point where you feel the tiniest.
There were phone cabins like this one every other pillar.
At the end of bridge the third hint was awaiting me. I was still fully optimistic believing that the weather would get better at Sausalito, my next stop so I dismissed it.
But the weather didn’t get better. It got worse. When I arrived to what I thought was the center of Sausalito everything but the Mexican equivalent of a 7 Eleven was closed. And a banana and a bag of chips aren’t enough fuel to pedal kilometers of steep road. I entered into the shop, I bought a funny looking sandwich and I made the Mexican cooks there realize that not every Spaniard is mad, or even knowledgeable, about soccer. After I recovered some energy I left the Mexican delicatessen in search of Muir Woods, a forest north of Sausalito with some of the tallest trees in the world. On my way there I passed through the real center of Sausalito where real restaurants, including Italian restaurants, were open and whispering my name. My optimism took a hit and I felt cheated by Sausalito. I was cold, I was tired, I didn’t have a single ray of sun tapping me on my shoulder and it was raining more and more but I still had some pride so I continued pedaling towards Muir Woods.
A few minutes later, almost outside of Sausalito the weather had became more and more intense. With utter despair I entered the last shop in town in search of an umbrella but they had none. By that time my third eye was completely open, drenched in water I accepted my defeat and turned back. My imaginary opponent, however, didn’t leave without scars as I made it to the next ferry that connected Sausalito to San Francisco as they were leaving covering in 4min and a few seconds a distance that, according to the map, required 10min. While looking back I silently shouted: “I’ll be back”.