The four day crossing to San Francisco, something over 2200 miles, is not a journey we would care to repeat in a hurry. We had expected seas to be rough, potentially, in the Bay Of Biscay and such places, but not here in the Pacific. Cap'n Bob, God bless him, has altered course to try to skirt the worst of a deep depression. Lord knows what it would have been like on the original course! Very spooky to see no shipping at all for four days.
By Saturday (17th) winds are up to Force 9-10 and the swell is around 7 metres or more and the boat is moving in sundry directions, as are many passengers. Overnight it felt like it was getting worse, earplugs were essential to overcome the creaking, groaning and crashing and in the early hours one particularly fierce passage created mayhem. Drawers shot open (my smalls went everywhere!), books, papers, glassware etc, were dumped on the floor from shelves. We thought we were all doomed, doomed. I am under strict instructions from my editor that I cannot, at this point, employ any of the "colour of the underwear" or "pelvic floor muscle" analogies which I had in mind, so you will just have to use your imagination.
We do not, incidentally, subscribe to the view, expressed by some on board, that the good Captain had prematurely withdrawn the stabilisers in the quest to save fuel. Both he and the Company hold the safety and comfort of passengers to be their highest priority. He said so, often. The staff in the shop apparently did not look too happy as they were picking the stock up off the floor next morning.
Anyway 6.45am was the scheduled time to pass under the Golden Gate Bridge, (not everybody needed to get up early, some had been huddled in prayer on the open deck with their lifejackets to hand since the early hours!!) and an impressive sight it is too. If anything we felt this to be a better approach than Sydney.
We thought it was a lovely touch that the US Coastguard provided two small vessels to sail either side of Oriana with sailors manning the the machine guns on deck as we entered the Bay. Given the average age of passengers and the lack of ethnic diversity it is difficult to see where the threat was coming from; not many could manage a suicide vest - you should see the problems they have during lifeboat drill in getting life jackets on! No underpants bombers here, maybe a few Tena pad terrorists though. Anyway it is nice to know the Americans are maintaining their high level of paranoia, sorry, I meant alert. On schedule, shortly after 8am, we are alongside Pier 35. But only alongside, not berthed. There follows a 45 minute pantomime as three aged American dockworkers attempt, largely without success, to secure a mere six hawsers to various dockside bollards, accompanied by much animated discussion with the crew as to which bollard is best, several attempts to tip their forklift into the harbour, cleverly disguised as attempts to lift hawsers out of the dock, and sundry advice from a management team in hi-vis jackets with the immortal phrase "safety team" on the back. It took two little men in a pick up about 5 minutes in Nha Trang; there's development for you.
In the meantime something over a thousand people had been queuing in an ever longer conga line around Deck 5 waiting to get off, another classic P&O disembarkation cock-up, though not entirely of their making this time.
San Francisco Cruise Terminal is a classic. Well in terms of 20+ year old concrete warehouses with forklifts and "semi" trucks trundling up and down it is a classic. If you are expecting a visitor centre, shops, even the odd display or person for that matter, forget it. One bookcase with some maps and brochures scattered around propped against a section of fencing is the best you'll get here. Welcome to America. Shortly before 10 am we are on dry land, and it is not swaying from side to side! The plan today was to collect a rental car, scheduled for 10am near Union Square, and take off to explore inland. Given the entertaining delay in docking we are behind schedule, so we catch a taxi, very reasonably priced too, to the Dollar depot. Less than £40 is the price for their smallest car (which they don't have available, so we accept a Ford Focus instead), complete with satnav and a full tank of petrol. Bargain! We, that is Janey, Ian being a technical neanderthal, programme the satnav for the Golden Gate Bridge and Sausalito. There is little risk of getting lost; I suspect the lady barking instructions from the satnav is dressed in black leather and wielding a whip, I will obey. The Bridge is every bit as impressive as our memories of it from best part of thirty years ago now. We stop at the Vista Point by the North Tower and look back to the City by the Bay, bet this is bringing back memories for Matt and Claire as they read it now - remember, 6 weeks, 6000 miles, 1 barbecue, 1 diddy tent. Mad. Anyway,enough of the good old days, we're off to Sausalito. Only 15 minutes or so from downtown S F, Sausalito is small harbourside town with jetties for sport boats, two main streets of high end shops and eateries and in honesty, not much else. But it's worth a stop for a quick browse before we head off for the giant redwoods of Muir Woods National Forest. We didn't get to see the redwoods 30 years back through lack of time and we didn't get to see them this time either! The weather this Sunday, whilst cool, was the best they had had in a long while it seems and the world and his wife (and kids) had obviously decided Muir Woods would be an ideal trip out. Both the main and overflow carparks were solid and the alternative roadside parking was locked for well over a mile from the park entrance. Given the pressure on time we gave up; we'll have to pencil it in for the next visit, another 30 years on?
We needed to replenish some gluten free stocks and toiletries so as we came down from the hills on our way to Napa Valley we stopped off at a small local Mall, and as is so often the case in America, nestling in the back corner of the parking lot was the local diner, the Shoreline Mexican Diner to be precise. You've got to have at least one big ignorant burger when you're over here haven't you? Janey, with the new sylph like figure, was more restrained with an omelette, but was tempted to try gf tortilla with, would you believe, refried beans. We reckon they register on about a par with grits on the list of gourmet culinary delights, you know the line "you can eat it, but it tastes like **** " (with acknowledgement to Crocodile Dundee). We were reintroduced also to that other US staple, endless refills of coffee. It is good to get off the beaten track.
The intention was to have a go at some wine tasting in the Napa Valley, especially after the good time we had in New Zealand. Napa is a bit more commercialised though. $15 a head charge to taste a maximum of five wines all retailing at over $30-$40 a bottle seemed a bit fierce. I'm not sure that my palate, or my wallet for that matter, is sufficiently refined for $40 dollar wines. Napa is a pleasant enough town though, but like so many small towns in the US the centre is made up of broad streets with mainly local administration offices, law courts, and a few upmarket shops and restaurants, all the major retail and similar activity is out in the suburban malls and roadside strip developments. But it was a good place to visit and wander for a while.
Just by chance(ha ha!) we located a small Outlet Mall for a little retail therapy, but we were restrained; Bass, Gap and Banana Republic could have taken a hammering though! Instead some new earplug covers from Bose and some bits from Osh Kosh b'Gosh for some lovely little people we know!! It was, by now, late afternoon and we were beginning to feel somewhat weary after the shenanigans and lack of sleep over the last couple of days so we headed back south towards the bay area and the promise of a motel for the night.
There is never a shortage of motels in this country, so on this occasion, thank you Mr Marriott for providing a decent room with a bathroom nearly as big as Cabin A228, a humongous bed, which didn't keep pitching from side to side, doors and wall panels which didn't creak and groan like an erupting volcano, and free wifi! Thought I died and gone to heaven! We were up bright eyed and bushy tailed, as always, and on the road back to SF well before 9am on Monday. Coming at the city from the east we had to cross the Bay Bridge this time from Oakland. There was some mild congestion at the toll booths, $6 charge but you only pay to enter SF, it's free in the other direction, simpler and less congestion at the booths apparently, how logical is that? We drop the car off with Dollar on schedule before 10am, efficient and excellent value, and catch a taxi driven by a talkative Armenian guy back to the ship to unload purchases and overnight things, I don't really want to be toting my negligee all round San Francisco.
Spot the difference at Pier 35! The Star Princess has docked this morning, less a cruise liner than a massive pointy barge with a dirty great block of flats stuffed on top of it. If this is the future of cruising I'm back to the Norfolk Broads. Oriana looks quaintly old fashioned and really rather attractive alongside this monstrous confection. But the real change is onshore. Not only are some few hundred Oriana passengers leaving or joining today, small beer, but also some few thousand American consumers likewise to and from Star Princess. All roads around the terminal are closed. Numerous buses are banked across the road to ferry the assembled multitude to and from hotels, airports etc. Porters everywhere. Uniformed hosts and hostesses, don't get your hopes up, they're nearly all of pensionable age, are there to greet and direct you. Yesterday's soulless warehouse is now a bustling hive of activity. It is still a great soulless warehouse though. Suitcases are coming and going all over, and every where, shuffling queues.
It is nice to see, though, that when they need to, for their own interests, P&O can organise disembarkation pretty efficiently! Bet you don't have to queue for two hours till your raffle ticket number comes up in Southampton in April - thank you, good bye and sod off is more likely to be the mantra I suspect. Anyway, we try to dodge the queues as best we can and head back to A228, unload the bags, reorganise, head up to the restaurant for a quick coffee, bowl of fruit and croissant and suitably recharged head back out.
You can't come to San Francisco and not ride the cable-car can you? A day pass costs $14 and off we go. The locals casually hang off the side with one hand nonchalantly holding the grab bar, high fiving passing travellers on the cars going in the other direction. No such flashy nonsense for yours truly, two hands locked on the bar like grim death, I've been on Health and Safety courses, I'm surprised I didn't demand one of the interior seats for the elderly and infirm! We get to Union Square and I can open my eyes again.
We plan to walk up Market Street and along to Alamo Square where there are some well known old properties called the Painted Ladies. As we pass through Civic Square on our way we divert to a small anti-war demonstration taking place outside City Hall. In the gravelled plaza in front of City Hall row upon row of paired Army boots are lined up in a poignant and touching testament to the loss of life in Iraq and Afghanistan, each pair of boots has a tag with the name of a dead serviceman, some also bear a small US flag. Organisers are slowly reading aloud the names of every serviceman who has died in these conflicts. The solemnity and dignity of the occasion is in quite marked contrast to some of the jingoistic posturing of politicians with which we are more familiar. Somewhat chastened we continue on to Alamo Square, which is well worth the visit giving a real feel for San Francisco of yesteryear.
Retracing our steps past the Opera House and Symphony Hall we catch a bus along Market Street to Union Square. One thing we do notice though is the very large number of homeless adults sleeping rough around the city, maybe not quite on Mumbai levels, but pretty significant. We always said this is not a country to be poor in; if you believe the disadvantaged have only themselves to blame you're off the hook.
It's time for a little retail therapy, not much though, Union Square is not a haven for the bargain hunter. We toddle on to China Town, which, surprisingly, is full of Chinese shops, restaurants, churches and tourists. By now it's mid afternoon, much warmer and less windy than Sunday, and we haven't had lunch yet.
A little birdy tells us Fisherman's Wharf down by Pier 35 has lots of good, cheap ish seafood eateries and you know us. Indeed one of our table companions at dinner the other night asked us if we ever did anything other than search out local eating places and reminded us we could try grasshoppers in Mexico, but we declined those in Vietnam. At least we don't come back to the ship for all our meals like some.
Anyway it's back on the cable car, a quick hop off at Lombard Street for a photo opportunity at the crookedest street, and hop back on to Fisherman's Wharf. Clam chowder or shrimp cocktail followed by grilled garlic prawns and salad, $16 a head, hog heaven! The food offerings are pretty good, much of the rest of the development leaves a bit to be desired, reminiscent of Skegness in parts, but we did locate some reasonable shops so our gift buying is taking shape.
Pier 39 is famous for the seals, basking on pontoons and barking away merrily, not to be confused with the golden labrador on Pier 43, which also barks away cheerfully but does not have flippers and a tail fin; it is an easy mistake to make nonetheless, but the view from Pier 43 is every bit as nice. (Some people may recall now the alsatian dog which was mistaken for a brown bear in Yellowstone National Park, similar kind of issue at Pier 43!). Now for the downer. We knew he was going, but that doesn't make the parting any easier when finally it comes to pass. Cap'n Bob is with us no more. He has jumped aboard his snowy white pilot boat and sailed off into another "beautiful" P&O sunset. No longer will we be wakened by his Tigger-ish enthusiasm for another "wonderful" day aboard this "fantastic" vessel, no longer will we be exhorted to share his enthusiasm for the "phenomenal" opportunities he and P&O have worked so feverishly to present for our sole enjoyment, no longer will we marvel at his capacity to transmogrify the mundane to the superlative. No longer will the sun worshippers on Deck 14 ogle his shining pecs and abs as he soaks up the rays in his off duty time with the singer from the theatre company at his side! No longer will we be able to marvel at his boat handling skills. It just won't be the same.
But fear not, Cap'n Dave is back from his holidays to steer us to the calm waters of the Caribbean and home, and even as we write this, two days after leaving San Francisco, Cap'n Dave is delivering dolphins and whales by the bucketload, calm seas, and rising temperatures. The man's a genius.
So it's off to Zihuatanejo. No, I don't know where it is either, not sure that half of Mexico does for that matter, but never mind, we could get a chance to pick up that sombrero I never got from Benidorm! Tomorrow another special lunch for those of us lucky enough to be going round the world.