$105: ($43 + $31 + $31) Anthony Chabot Campground, Oakland, CA
The Bay Area is a magical place. And somehow, despite the traffic, when I drive down 580, I feel alive again. Like driving is a special pleasure. Faster. More intense.
To really experience it properly, I would need to rent a 1988 Acura Integra, but driving my VW Touareg without a trailer was still invigorating.
With three more days in Chabot, I visited family and friends in the area.
One my stops was San Francsico’s Pier 39. A place I visited as a kid, and even played a middle school band concert.
I know, I know. It was 1984. The technology to make hair and glasses look stylish did not exist. If I remember correctly, we were playing some Christmas tunes, and selections from Flashdance.
Rather than take BART in (here’s Grandma, my brother, and I on free BART day on the 1970s)…
…I took the ferry in. Can you imagine having this view on your commute every day (on fog-free days, anyway)?
Another favorite stop was to Fisherman’s Wharf for a sourdough bowl of clam chowder, and a visit to the Musée Mécanique – one of the quirkiest, and my favorite, SF attraction. It’s on Pier 45, and chock full of antique arcade machines.
Then, my friends took me to their neighborhood near Bernal Heights Park, and this view.
If I hadn’t gone to music conservatory on the east coast, I would’ve loved to have made my home here. Wouldn’t you?
At long last, I had to make my way back under the Bay Bridge, and up the mountain to the campground, considering what could have been, and thankful for the time spent in the Bay Area – then, and now.