“I will be one of you…some day,” I mumbled to myself as a single tear ran down my cheek.

Painted crosswalk at Castro and 24th St. in Noe Valley.

Sea foam green and ugly stone.

James Lick Middle School. Go Licks!

Purple house, purple car.

Warning tape.

Metal fence and road cone.

A sad Dane.

Pete’s Cleaners sign.

Sushi lunch at Hamano Sushi. It was a bad hotel restaurant atmosphere, but with good cheap sushi and friendly Japanese hosts.

Bernal Heights Park, as seen from a dead end on Cesar Chavez St.

After exploring the area on foot and eating a delicious sushi lunch, J. and I spotted a barren, grassy hill to the east. This hill, Bernal Heights Park, was our next destination.

Another purple building.

Green and orange house on a hill.

No squatting dogs.

Blue door on the edge of the park.

Walking up to the top of the hill.

Woman and her dog dwarfed by rock.

Spandex lady doing stretches above the bay. Binoculars revealed her to be in her late 30s and possessing slightly hairy arms.

The view from the top was world-class. Bernal Heights might not get the tourists, but its view rivals that of Twin Peaks. The hilltop features a powerful microwave tower used for cellular transmission, cooking popcorn, and frying gonads. The whole park is designated as an off-leash area for dogs, making everything but the dirt trails a minefield.

The 101 and 280 interchange.

Erosion reveals railing foundation.

Boats behind Hunter’s Point power station.

Trail.

Man walking his dog with Noe Valley in the background.

Tree-lined Folsom Street.

Rocks made for sitting or breaking bottles.

The Golden Gate Bridge and the other park on a hill, Buena Vista.

South Van Ness Avenue.

Downtown.

Yellow flower.

J-Dawg Jammy Fresh chillin’ with hur cam at B-Heights.

Caroline Nik in the city.

After taking in the view, we descended into the Mission and went in search of burritos. Triunfo!

Fungus balls.

Repainted arrow.

A fun slide built on a hillside in Bernal Heights.

A tough looking old car: chrome, skulls, baseball bat, red lights, first aid kit.

The rear window.

Porch.

A lantern flower.

Redundant addressing.

Elmo and his two gay lovers.

Graffiti covered truck.

Large 99¢ Store.

Mission Theater.

Exotic produce for sale, including these prickly beasts.

Another old theater.

People along Mission St.

El Capitan Theater must have been a beautiful sight in its day.

Cacti for sale.

J. getting directions to the popular Bi Rite ice cream stand in the Mission.

Yesterday was the first Sunday of the month and the Alameda Point Antiques and Collectibles Faire. This massive event takes place on the grounds of the former Alameda Point Naval Air Station and is a sprawling collection of over 800 vendors and thousands of attendees. Everything under the sun is for sale under the sun. The food vendors are better than average and reasonably priced.

That morning, we met at Pier 41 and caught the Blue and Gold Ferry for $7 one-way. The ride was memorable, passing under the Bay Bridge and going along the massive cranes and stacked shipping containers of the Port of Oakland. We walked from the pier through the sprawling parking lot towards the gates. Heat rippled off the pavement. It seemed like Decepticons would attack at any moment.

Sail boat race as seen from the ferry to Alameda.

Boat.

Tanker ship passing under the Bay Bridge.

Our ferry going under the Bay Bridge.

Two bridges.

American flag with seagull poop on it.

Containers at the massive Port of Oakland.

Crane.

Sail boat passing a heavily loaded container ship.

Old parking spots.

The desolation of the Alameda airfield.
Threading through the rows of goods, we realized how daunting seeing everything would be. Our strokes became broader, first looking at one side of the row at a time, then both sides, then just down the rows.

For lunch, I ate an emasculatingly long and spicy sausage on a bun with sauerkraut and all the trimmings.

Crowds at the flea market.

Dolls parts.

Tennis rackets.

Containers.

Ninety-five dollar duck.

V. and J. heading home.

By early afternoon the vendors looked like they were getting ready to go. Many had been there since early in the morning, and most of the afternoon shoppers like us weren’t serious buyers. We hoofed it back to the ferry, only to get there two hours early. We passed some time kicking the feather before deciding to take the bus home.

Our first bus was caught in the market traffic. The driver, who had been exceedingly friendly with us, got into a yelling match with an aisle-blocking woman with a stroller. We left the bipolar bus and transferred to the O. For a fare of $4 had a scenic ride across the Bay Bridge to the Transbay Terminal.

The sun was setting.

It was time to start heading home.

It was time for afternoon coffee and pastries.

Bellies full and goodbyes said, we boarded the train to head back home.

Patchy paint job near Duboce Park.

A building on Steiner that both of my parents had set foot in their past.

Father and son. My awkward pose is due to the enormous camera bag.

Water fountains.

Executive beach chair.

Graffiti.

Father walking towards sea wall.

Sale 50% All things expect tobbco.

Caltrains ready to head south.

On Tuesday, lady and the tramp headed out early in the morning to a sneak preview event at Adobe’s San Francisco headquarters. We signed NDAs, got name tags, and sat in an auditorium with fresh coffee and pastries. The presentations lasted two hours. Afterward, a fine lunch of salmon and not salmon was served.

The building was near a weird part of town called Mission Bay. Surrounded by highways and water, the area is a mixture of industry, new buildings, and vacant lots. I decided it would be fun to take a stroll down Mission Creek to take a look at the house “boats” docked there. It was fun. From the boats, we walked along the waterfront in South Mission Bay past all sorts of weird piers, warehouses, and enormous docked ships.

Underpass along the train tracks.

Tiled building along Mission Creek.

J. climbing over a fallen fence.

Graffiti.

Mushrooms with fly.

House “boat”.

Dilapidated store on a pier of Mission Creek.

Empty stadium seats and an epic sky.

Large vessel.

No parking sign.

Unnecessary warning cones.

A massive Navy hospital ship in for repairs.

Fence with bell.

The ruins of old piers.

The walls of the dock, with crane.

Modern parking structure.

Abandoned cranes.

Bio diesel pump.

We hung a left at 20th St. and walked through an ancient looking industrial area that had both abandoned warehouses and functioning ones. No one seemed to pay us much attention, though one truck driver who had been trying to get his trailer through a tight squeeze asked us if we were the people he had talked to on the phone. If we had said yes, who knows what kind of adventure we could have had.

Decorative awning.

Warehouse windows.

More warehouse windows.

Safety stories board of an abandoned factory.

The hook.

No parking.

Smokestack.

Rusted wall.

Oddly proportioned door.

Buildings.

On the tracks of the T-line train.

The towers of Mission Dolores.

That evening, we didn’t dilly-dally. After a bunch of botched attempts, we had acquired RAM SIMMS to install in J’s aging laptop. I was excited to go home and try installing them. After a few incorrect seatings, the computer was rolling in memory. From there, I took it to the heights of new operating system ecstasy!

On Wednesday, J. was meeting someone for a networking lunch (Note: she was not from Cisco Systems, Inc.). I was left to my own devices. We parted company, she towards organic salads and chowder, I towards a face full of pesto pizza squares from Golden Boy in North Beach.

After one slice, I wrapped my second to go. Joggers in their tight spandex suits passed me as I climbed Filbert St. Hill up to Coit Tower. I ate pizza during the climb, either appearing as superman or superglutton to the casual athletes looking my way.

Coit Tower as seen from Filbert.

Looking west from the hill.

Shaded trail, cooled by morning mist.

The droopy flowering shrub of Telegraph Hill.

The “crookediest” street in the city: Lombard.

Viewing platforms overlooking the bay.

Snow not falling on Bay Bridge behind cedars.

A friendly surprise left on someone’s windshield.

A secret garden off the wooden pedestrian steps of Filbert.

The wooden steps. No cars allowed.

Walking down the steps, my eyes were drawn upward by a cacophony of squawks. Above, around twenty green feral parrots were hanging out in the treetop. I had heard about these birds before but had never seen them. There’s a 2005 documentary by Judy Irving about the birds. According to the internet, the quiet pedestrian steps of Filbert are a common stomping ground. If you read it on the internet, it must be true.

Lost in the moment, I broke into rap:

I’m seeing birds
I’m seeing birds
Everybody see me ’cause I’m looking at birds
I’m seeing parrots
I’m seeing parrots
Take a good hard look at how I’m seeing parrots.

I’m looking at birds, and
Taking pictures of them, and
I got a weathered and cheap
Nikon D40, cam
I’m the king of Filbert
Looking at birds like parrots
If you’re not seeing birds,
then you better be watching ferrets.

In the tree were around twenty green parrots.

Two parrots grooming each other.

As soon as I started taking horrible quality photos of the winged beasts, rain started to fall. I walked briskly for shelter amongst the fortress-like and soulless brick buildings of Sansome St. Despite the foul weather, the fowl had put me in an excellent mood.

I popped open my chintzy umbrella and plowed into the rain to meet J. for coffee at the Ferry Building.

On Wednesday, J. and I took the train to the Inner Sunset and went on a walk through Golden Gate Park. She was meeting a friend that afternoon at the DeYoung Museum. I was meeting an old boss downtown, so I said goodbye and took a leisurely stroll through the varied plantings of the botanical gardens towards the train. The succulent’s zone was a juicy sight.

Downtown, I emerged from the tunnels early, so I walked to the ferry building, got some coffee, and sat outside watching the boats. My borrowed smartphone buzzed. The meeting had to be postponed until tomorrow. With the rest of the afternoon free, I walked through downtown and back home.

Steps.

Old sign on Irving.

Stone wall.

Downspout.

Scenic drive sign.

Succulent!

Cactus and kumquats.

Japanese Gardens.

Metal wall and palm in front of the DeYoung.

The pleading cat fountain.

Plenty of benches.

Here lies irrigation. May he irrigate in peace.

Two-tone grass.

Fern.

Chilean rhubarb.

Another view.

Flowering bush.

Berrying bush.

Fern valley.

Pink magnolia blossoms.

The radio tower of Twin Peaks.

Pink building and gas station sign.

Yellow.

Pretty cloud.

Container ships in Oakland.

Thursday morning, I hoofed it to the train, then hoofed it to an interview. Afterward, I grabbed some Vietnamese bun and went searching through the less touristy shops of Chinatown for a source of kicking feathers. The kicking feather is a toy I got addicted to in China. It’s like a cross between a hack-y-sack and a shuttlecock. With kung fu kicking skills, the players pass the toy between each other. In a low-ceilinged junk store, I found one for $2. The seller blew dust off the toy when I handed it to him. I asked if he had more than one. No, nor did the man know where more would come from. A few stores later, I found a big supply that cost twice as much. I bought one anyway and gave J. and excited call to share the news. With a steady supply of feather toys, I don’t have to be as precious with mine.

The famous “Painted Ladies” near our apartment.

A church that resembled a crashed blimp.

City hall.

Orange glass.

Decorative roofs.

Decorative doorway.

Decorative shrubbery.

Gingerbread man with enormous dong.

That afternoon, I met my old boss for coffee.

On Friday morning, it started raining. I had to walk downtown again. I suffered from inverted umbrella syndrome. The hole in the heel of my shoe allowed water to get pumped in during my confident stride. I was in sorry shape when I arrived at the security desk of corporate America. Two different security guards asked me how I was doing. I must have looked a little off-kilter.

Japan Center.

Nearly a full moon.

This is my kind of color scheme.

Purple shingles.

Blue building, pink blossoms.

That evening, a friend was in town so we met for dinner. Afterward, we walked the length of Haight Street. Most of the stores were closed, so we had to entertain ourselves with the bums, drunks, pot smoke, and Amoeba Music. We parted company and walked back home.

On Saturday, the potential of rain and tsunamis ended up being sunny and tidal wave free. The morning was spent walking between stores along Geary in search of RAM and cheap mouse pads. After a Vietnamese lunch on Clement, we walked into the Presidio through the Arguello Gate. Birds, bees, and flowers were in abundance. After making out at Inspiration Point, we hiked along some new trails down to Crissy Field and Fort Point. From there, we walked to the Palace of Fine Arts to catch a bus downtown to watch the Chinese New Year parade.

Menacing storm clouds.

Side of a school.

Flowers.

Presidio Heights.

The view from Inspiration Point.

Bird.

Tall sculpture made from fallen eucalyptus trunks.

J. on the trail.

Golden Gate Bridge seen from benches on the cemetery overlook trail.

Trees and grass.

Tombstones.

Old door to the horse stables.

Pet cemetery.

Rest in Peep.

The city.

A family sneaking off the pier with a catch of crabs.

A lone sail boat drawled by the Marin Headlands.

Rusted, cracking chain.

The chains.

Splash.

Surfer examines the potential for death near Fort Point.

Surfing under the bridge during a tsunami warning.

Hummingbird!

Hummingbird!

Spectators.

A small sampling of the pungent masses.

Nightfall.

The parade route was packed from Chinatown to Union Square. People were setting off firecrackers. There were dragons, marching bands, senators, firemen. We walked reverse of the parade into the swarms of people. Our legs needed to rest. We hopped on a bus headed home. Sleep.

Peace out!

Despite living here for three years in the past, it seems like I’ve barely scraped the surface.

Since when did SUCCESSORIES start making barricades?

Textures.

Red building.

Two fish tacos from Nick’s Crispy Tacos on Polk and Broadway, served “Nick’s way” with a crispy inner shell and guacamole.

Ugly towers near the edge of Fisherman’s Wharf.

Mosaic fountain.

Window.

Rusted sign.

View of the city from Municipal Pier.

Two Koreans fishing for Dungeness Crab.

Warning sign.

Container ship.

Green retaining wall.

Flowers near Ft. Mason.

A scooter parked outside the youth hostel at Ft. Mason.

Ultraviolets.

A yard full of flowers.

Bright house.

Buzzers.

A row of colors.

Flying pig hood ornament.

Vacant lot in the Mission.

Electronics and chicken carcasses.

Shoe planters near the restrooms of Alamo Square. Very cool.

Another shoe.

An abandoned church in Russian Hill.

A heavy looking building.

Muffin top.

Sea lions at Pier 39. Many were gone, but there were at least 30 or so left.

Platforms that would have been once full of activity.

Wise dog.

Segway tour.

Tiger.

Coastal trail at Land’s End.

Surfers below the trail.

Tree tunnel.

Flowers.

Descent.

The otherworldly Seal Rocks Beach.

V. exploring a massive accumulation of sea foam.

More sea foam than I’ve ever seen before.

Seal Rocks Beach with the Golden Gate Bridge in the distance.

The floor of a bathroom that had slid down the hill.

Painting.

Painting.

The floor of the bathroom was now the wall.

A signal tower in the inlet to the bay.

Tall grasses.

Trees near near the trailhead above the Sutro Bath ruins.

Blue flags mark new plantings.

Pink trim.

WTF?

Looking south towards Golden Gate Park and Ocean Beach.

White picket fence.

Other door.

Onion domes.

Not creepy at all.

I think I’d rather not take my laundry here.

Ivy on stairs.

No pee.

Dual buzzers.

Delicious calamari salad from Burma Superstar Restaurant on Clement.

Beef from the same restaurant. All the food we tried was very good.

This week, we stayed with a friend in Russian Hill. It was great to see him again, watch movies, eat meals, play games, and go on walks. But our time was limited. On Sunday, we packed up our bags once again, got a cab, and headed towards the future.

Our cab dropped us off at the drizzly doorstep of our new apartment. The building manager never met us to give us keys, so we called his supervisor/father and waited. Keys delivered, we payed our prorated rent and set our bags down. We were “home”: a furnished studio near Alamo Square. It’s a month-to-month rental, decent and fairly cheap considering all utilities and internet are included. We’ll use this as a base until we get jobs and can afford to move into a bigger and more permanent place.

A view of our table.

Today has been rainy. It has been an incentive to stay inside and adjust to the new digs.

On Friday, J. and I checked out of the hotel and were picked up by one of our kind hosts for the weekend. Our luggage was of an embarrassing quantity for just a weekend stay, but only we seemed to notice. As we passed over the Golden Gate Bridge, I couldn’t help but imagine a helicopter view of us pulling away from the car just in time to see words “Full House” appear.

CHITTY CHI BOB BOTTA!

Situated on the northern border of San Rafael, was a remodeled Eichler home in the Modernist style. Our hosts had two wonderful, friendly dogs with white hair and quiet dispositions.

The weekend was full of activity, though the highlight by far was a trip out on the bay in the couple’s 50 foot powerboat.

I’ve been on few boats in my life, but that Saturday helped me understand their appeal: freedom, fresh air, amazing views, being a part of a dock of like-minded hobbyists. I felt a little out of place though, like Nick Carraway mingling in Gatsby’s social circles. It’s a way of life that seems both attainable and impossible. Maybe I can start my boating at the dingy level.

The bay was full of other pleasure craft, shipping vessels, sea birds, and seals. We departed from Sausalito, headed towards the Golden Gate Bridge, then around Angel Island to drop anchor in the still waters of Paradise for a lunch of sandwiched, coffee, and chocolate.

The boat.

J. tending to a rope.

Controls.

A moored fishing boat by the dock.

One of many junky boats moored in the water.

Cormorants in a row.

Stopping for gas.

Our boat was filled with 300 gallons of marine diesel. $$$

Moving out into the open bay.

Pelican in mid dive.

Pier and city.

Driving.

Heading towards Golden Gate Bridge.

Another view.

Sail boat.

Sail boats and the bridge.

Splashes once the boat had started planing.

Seaplane.

J. and the bridge.

A view of Angel Island.

Our hosts.

Our us.

The bridge in the evening haze.

On Sunday, we borrowed a car and drove up to the top of Mt. Tamalpais. Lunch was a split Safeway sandwich and Fruit Gushers, sitting on a secluded little rock overlooking the whole Bay Area. Fog was consistently rolling westward, but there were pockets of views.

Afterward, we wandered around the green, blooming hillsides feeling a bit like lost Teletubbies. There were rabbits, groundhogs, and numerous birds. Dirt trails cut across the tall, soft feeling grassy hills. Everyone seemed to be heading towards the ocean.

Our route back to the house took us by Bolinas Lagoon and up a windy, nearly one lane road through the wooded hills. It passed Alpine Lake and dropped us out at Fairfax.

Wooden stairs to the top of Mt. Tam.

Smooth, maroon bark.

The view north.

Green hills.

Shaded trail near the top.

Moss on a rock.

Trail.

Oil tanker near the Richmond Bridge.

Looking towards the city from Mt. Tam.

Crows everywhere.

Bay leaves, ready for some stew.

The city in the distance.

Trail on the green hills.

Amazing view.

The tree at the top of the hill.

J.

A groundhog.

Seals in Bolinas Lagoon.

The road home.

Dam!

On Monday, we took a walk up a trail near the house. We found a nice tree at the top of a hill and sat in the dappled shade watching hawks prowl for lunch. Game and human trails went everywhere. We took one down the hill and found another shade tree overlooking a neighborhood. I got a rash on my arm from lying there and looking at the gnats, but it was worth it.

A sunny day for a walk in the hills.

Woods on a hill top.

Mossy rock.

A good tree for sitting under.

Barbed wire fence.

A bumble bee.

That evening, J. and I made our hosts a thank you dinner of green curry and chicken lab. The curry contained fresh lime leaves from the tree in the backyard. No food poisoning was reported.

Our weekend ended with an early ride back into the city on Tuesday morning. I’m thankful for the trust and generosity our hosts provided. Someday I hope to return the favor, or to try to pay it forward. After all, you can’t spell “generalized reciprocity” without “I”.

[SFX: Studio audience laughter.]

-
This blog post was written in front of a live studio audience and is a Miller-Boyett Production.

But we endeavor to not be tourists. Our needs are not of bowls of bread, but cold hard cash. We wish to lie our heads upon our own beds in an over-priced apartment rather than the everyman’s motel. When we climb the steep hills with lattes and dogs in our arms, we will be regarded as locals. Our calves will ripple with taut muscle. Our clothes will be of the finest fog misted cotton. Our shoes will smell of the piss of a thousand crazy hoboes. We will look at the Frenchmen and visiting bumpkins and chuckle.

“We were you once, you poor bastards.”

Over the past week, I’ve been on a few job interviews. In between, there has been a lot of walking. Here are some of the things I’ve seen:

J. on the 18th floor balcony of our hotel in Nob Hill.

Not our hotel, but close: Hotel Huntington.

Alley mural.

A strange mobile fun house in Chinatown called “Whacky Shack.” It was abandoned due to how creepy it was.

Vietnamese food for our first lunch.

The wonderful view from my friend’s apartment.

Looking down from our hotel.

Sailboats on Sunday.

Click for a panoramic from our hotel balcony.

Rusted pipe.

Gun on a ship.

Caution.

Depth markings.

Hole.

Rope coil.

Tank and Ford.

Alcatraz.

Palmistry Machine in the wonderful and free Musée Mécanique at Pier 45.

Horse racing.

Flying a helicopter.

Opium-Den.

The accurately depicted automatons of the Opium-Den.

Dancing puppets.

Creepy laughing monster in a glass box.

A great game where you have to jump a ball-bearing up a series of slopes.

Baseball game.

Violet door.

City at night.

Go! Go! Power Decals!

Grocery store mural.

Cherry blossoms everywhere.

Stair texture.

Alley.

Street circuits.

Brick revealed below asphalt.

Gnarly trunk on Russian Hill.

Alcatraz seen from Hyde and Lombard.

View of Northbeach and the Bay Bridge from Lombard.

The Great Highway by the beach.

Red icicle grass.

Looking south on Ocean Beach.

Surfer with Marin looming in the background.

Seaweed on a pole.

Nature and wall, similar color.

A gay color scheme.

We were walking the length of Golden Gate Park when we looked up and saw this hawk on a eucalyptus.

Bison in the Golden Gate Park paddock.

A random troll.

Cheerio-shaped growth on a bush.

Lake.

Waterfall.

Aloe.

Burgers at Taylor’s Refresher at the ferry building.

The pyramid building at sunset.

Feathers on grey pond water.

Near the end of the week, we went on a long walk from Crissy Field, across the Golden Gate Bridge, and into Sausalito. From there, we took the ferry back. The weather was overcast until we crossed the bridge. Then overcast again when we reached the other side. But the views were amazing.

Heron.

Beach flowers.

Memorial.

Dogs looking at other dogs.

Pollen on buds.

Nice color scheme.

A great source of coffee and food at Crissy Field: The Warming Hut.

The birds.

Climbing the hill to get to the bridge.

Golden Gate Bridge.

Bunker.

Firework.

Walking across the bridge.

Cables.

A post.

A row of lamps wt. the Marin Headlands in the background.

Warning colors.

A weathered structure beneath the bridge. Nearby were numerous seals.

Sea tunnel.

Seals as seen from the bridge.

Shipping boat.

Battlements at Fort Baker.

Mattress and flowers.

Climbing a dry hillside.

J. on the hill.

Yellow flowering trees.

ENTER NOT DO!

Homes of Sausalito.

More cherry blossoms.

Old pier remains with the city in the background.

The bell on the the Sausalito ferry.

The Golden Gate Bridge at sunset, heading home on the water.

The first week has felt long, but in a great way. I have no place to live, no job, and no clear idea of the future. But everything is wonderful now. I thank my savings, gracious hosts, and J-DAWG for going along on the ride of a lifetime.

Things can only go downhill from here…

J. and I arrived in San Francisco this morning. The weather was perfect: clear air, blue skies, mild weather.

We hauled our numerous pieces of luggage up the thirty degree incline of Powell St. from the BART station, dropped them off at the hotel, got some lunch in bustling Chinatown, and checked in. Our room is on the eighteenth floor, looking east over the rest of downtown, with views of Coit Tower, the bay, Treasure Island, and the East Bay in the distance. The panorama is gorgeous, and it fills my heart with joy.

Today has been filled with pleasant omens. I had forgotten how pleasurable it is to put feet to street and explore this wonderful city. Hopefully the exercise will compensate for all the chow along the way.

Posts might be slow in the next fortnight, but rest assured that I’m still taking photos.

Our hike was 8 miles round trip. The first leg was 1.8 miles along the Pihea Trail. From there, another 2 miles along the Alaka’i Swamp Trail would take us to the Kilohana Lookout. The Alaka’i Wilderness Preserve, popularly known as Alaka’i Swamp, is a wet forest located on a plateau near Mount Wai’ale’ale, one of the wettest spots on Earth. Although the preserve is home to alpine bogs, it is not a true swamp.

Our hike basically started inside a cloud. I was pissed because it obscured wonderful views, but it created a moody atmosphere. The trail was muddy, wet, and full of dripping ferns and moss. There was more moss and of greater variety than I’d ever seen before.

Much of the hike was made easier by a narrow, mesh-coated boardwalk that had been installed in the 90s. Walking on the boards created a hypnotizing rhythm and reminded us of how impossible the hike would have been without them.

During the walk, I dreamed up plans for massively-nerdplayer videogame called “Alaka’i”. Four different settlements of people would fight over a centrally located swamp similar to the landscape we hiked through. The terrain would be harsh, forcing players to stick to the safety of the wooden boardwalks. Unfortunately, this would leave them open to ambushes and other issues. Each settlement would have it’s own specialties that passed down to its players. Those from the mountains would be good at clearing paths, those from the arid hills would be good at digging, those from the plains would be good at hunting, and those from the swamp would be savvy in the muck.

But I digress…

The route.

Sign.

Tall waterfall in Waimea Canyon.

Click image for a 3000px wide panoramic of Waimea Canyon.

Inside the clouds at the trailhead.

Me, a little peeved by the clouds.

Cloudy road.

Pandora?

Shafts of light.

Muddy and foggy.

Misty trail.

More misty trail.

I took a piss overlooking a tense hillside of ferns and underbrush.

Moss.

Unfurling fern.

Moss covered tree.

The boardwalk starts.

More boardwalk over the mud.

Blue balls flower.

Trail foam.

Misty trail.

Vine featuring leaves that look tied on.

Blue skies.

Large bank of moss.

Wet, hairy tree.

Forest.

An endless set of stairs.

Flowers.

A toppled tree exposes it stump.

Crossing a creek.

Ferns along the trail.

Underbrush.

Pooled water among roots.

The descent.

Sister and mossy tree.

The Alaka’i Swamp is an otherworldly plateau of stunted trees and muck. The water is blood red.

Broken boardwalk.

A misplaced step.

Red water.

Stunted plants.

Puddles.

Walkway.

Fern.

After 4 miles of hiking, we made it the lookout. What would have been a wonderful view, all we saw was fog. Crap.

Another fern.

Crossing the creek again, this time with the help of a pole.

Clear skies over the forest.

Canyon wall.

Heading back to the hotel.

The hike took around 5 hours, and was a little grueling on the way back. I daydreamed about the scenery and tried not to focus on the never-ending climbs ahead.

About a mile from the trailhead, we came upon an older woman being helped by a lanky asian fellow. The woman’s arm was in a makeshift sling because she had tripped and likely broken her arm.

There was enough sun to get me very close to burnt. But by the following morning, my ruddy skin gradually changed to a healthy tan.

After a half of day of sitting at the beach it was time to head home. After one short flight to Honolulu, a few hours of playing cards outside in the airport’s Chinese garden, and a 7.5 hour sleepless overnight flight, we were back in Dallas. The city was a stark contrast to tropical paradise: cold, rainy, grey, and bleak.

It was time to put my socks on, let my tan fade, and daydream of playing and having fun on an island in the sun. Hey, hey.