I hit the ground running this morning - got up early to move my car and drove it straight to my storage unit and started sifting through things and packing them up. After all this time (I haven't been near the place in almost two years) I kind of forgot what was in there. I hoped it would fit in the car.
As I moved around, loaded, unloaded, packed, took the elevator up and down from car to unit I experienced this strange feeling of nostalgia. "How could this be?" I asked myself. I'd only ever been here a handful of times. It wasn't a home or a particularly nice building. It was always a chore coming here because it meant transporting things up, down, around, in and out. Then I realized. I only ever came here when a great adventure was about to begin. I came here before setting out on the road, before going to New Zealand, upon my return, on trips either from or to Humboldt, or long drives across the desert; always on my way to something grand.
This time was no exception, except this time - I was never coming back. I felt it in my bones and the moment I got here; San Francisco was not my home anymore or ever again. It was bittersweet in that way that only good memories can be. And that bittersweetness extended to my storage unit. My days as an adventurer have changed shape.
With my headlamp and a giant coffee I worked away until the afternoon when sanity demanded that I take a break. Then I decided to spend too much on lunch at my favorite sushi spot and go for my favorite walk in my old neighborhood.
The Presidio is just as beautiful and lovely as ever - although a bit busier. I reminisced as I walked, about the time when the whole block was still abandoned and falling apart and no one ever came out there - a whole forest in the city all to ourselves. My feet carried me naturally over the old trails they knew so well. I didn't even have to think about where I was headed. Until I got to the cliffs above Baker Beach and.... something was very different. I usually hopped the fence, walked down through a forest and got to the bunker using a secret trail. This time I couldn't figure out where to hop the fence at first because - the forest was gone. They cut down all those beautiful cypress trees above the beach.
This saddened me.... alot. A plaque informed me that it was for native reforestation efforts, which I support. But those trees were so beautiful! For a hundred years or more they were so beautiful. And the protection and secrecy they offered was gone. No more secret trail, alot more tourists.
Luckily my other favorite secret spot was still there, still hidden away, mostly undiscovered and still offered this amazing view.....
Goodbye San Francisco! Goodbye unit 2106!
As I moved around, loaded, unloaded, packed, took the elevator up and down from car to unit I experienced this strange feeling of nostalgia. "How could this be?" I asked myself. I'd only ever been here a handful of times. It wasn't a home or a particularly nice building. It was always a chore coming here because it meant transporting things up, down, around, in and out. Then I realized. I only ever came here when a great adventure was about to begin. I came here before setting out on the road, before going to New Zealand, upon my return, on trips either from or to Humboldt, or long drives across the desert; always on my way to something grand.
This time was no exception, except this time - I was never coming back. I felt it in my bones and the moment I got here; San Francisco was not my home anymore or ever again. It was bittersweet in that way that only good memories can be. And that bittersweetness extended to my storage unit. My days as an adventurer have changed shape.
With my headlamp and a giant coffee I worked away until the afternoon when sanity demanded that I take a break. Then I decided to spend too much on lunch at my favorite sushi spot and go for my favorite walk in my old neighborhood.
The Presidio is just as beautiful and lovely as ever - although a bit busier. I reminisced as I walked, about the time when the whole block was still abandoned and falling apart and no one ever came out there - a whole forest in the city all to ourselves. My feet carried me naturally over the old trails they knew so well. I didn't even have to think about where I was headed. Until I got to the cliffs above Baker Beach and.... something was very different. I usually hopped the fence, walked down through a forest and got to the bunker using a secret trail. This time I couldn't figure out where to hop the fence at first because - the forest was gone. They cut down all those beautiful cypress trees above the beach.
This saddened me.... alot. A plaque informed me that it was for native reforestation efforts, which I support. But those trees were so beautiful! For a hundred years or more they were so beautiful. And the protection and secrecy they offered was gone. No more secret trail, alot more tourists.
Luckily my other favorite secret spot was still there, still hidden away, mostly undiscovered and still offered this amazing view.....
Goodbye San Francisco! Goodbye unit 2106!
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