Travel Journal
On the Way to the National Parks
(with Side Trips to San Francisco, Seattle, and Elsewhere)
Part I
September 2019
By Sandra Bertrand
C.P. Cavafy, one of my favorite Greek poets, once advised, “When you set out on your journey to Ithaca, pray that the road’s long, full of adventures, full of knowledge.”
That proved to be an apt description of my road journey this July to several of the most awe-inspiring of national parks. My partner, Joanne, a high school English teacher, promised me our month’s journey would be filled with friends, fun, and enough memorable experiences to last until our next foray.
As far as destinations go, the first “must see” on our Parks list was Olympic National Park in Washington State, a scenic wilderness we could only imagine. The only hitch was that we had to get out of JFK first, the day after New York City’s Pride weekend and the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising. By the time we’d cleared security - after a further delay due to a knee replacement surgery I’d undergone in February - our boarding gate was shut tight. Fortunately, we were able to secure a second flight, arriving minutes after our original designated time.
San Francisco
If you’re wondering why we landed in “The City by the Bay,” instead of somewhere closer to our intended destination, let me remind you it’s a long road we’d chosen, and I’m trusting you’ll come along for the ride, with some good companions to lead the way.
Our BART train afforded us a smooth ride into the Mission District. Once we hit the sidewalk, suitcases in tow, a rail-thin, homeless woman rose from her sleeping mattress, wishing us a “great day.” It was such a bright, sunny mid-60s kind of day, I could almost believe the woman and her motley crew were enjoying the weather as much as we were.
That proved to be an apt description of my road journey this July to several of the most awe-inspiring of national parks. My partner, Joanne, a high school English teacher, promised me our month’s journey would be filled with friends, fun, and enough memorable experiences to last until our next foray.
As far as destinations go, the first “must see” on our Parks list was Olympic National Park in Washington State, a scenic wilderness we could only imagine. The only hitch was that we had to get out of JFK first, the day after New York City’s Pride weekend and the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall uprising. By the time we’d cleared security - after a further delay due to a knee replacement surgery I’d undergone in February - our boarding gate was shut tight. Fortunately, we were able to secure a second flight, arriving minutes after our original designated time.
San Francisco
If you’re wondering why we landed in “The City by the Bay,” instead of somewhere closer to our intended destination, let me remind you it’s a long road we’d chosen, and I’m trusting you’ll come along for the ride, with some good companions to lead the way.
Our BART train afforded us a smooth ride into the Mission District. Once we hit the sidewalk, suitcases in tow, a rail-thin, homeless woman rose from her sleeping mattress, wishing us a “great day.” It was such a bright, sunny mid-60s kind of day, I could almost believe the woman and her motley crew were enjoying the weather as much as we were.
After a largely forgettable lunch, our Uber car sailed up the surrounding hills to Charmen’s home. Sharon, Charmen’s older sister, had graduated from Bakersfield High with me in the sixties. Since our fifty-year school reunion, Joanne and I had played tour guides to the sisters’ energetic, irrepressible natures, showing them as much of New York as they were willing to digest. Now, through their generosity, we would see their city through their eyes.
That night’s dinner was at Mandalay, the first Burmese restaurant in the city (est. 1984). Knowing Sharon and her husband Scott’s fondness for the Far East, we knew our appetites were in good hands! We started with one of the house specialties, a tea leaf salad made with toasted lentil seeds, fresh garlic, green pepper, sesame seeds, peanuts, shrimp and dressing. Balade, a crispy pancake with a curry dipping sauce, was enjoyed by all, followed by our main course of Burmese flat noodles with coconut sauce, chicken, yellow peas powder, lime juice, onions and topped with fried noodles. A veritable feast! |
Left to Right: Sandra, Sharon, Charmen, Scott, Cal
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The next morning over breakfast with Charmen and her Japanese American husband Cal, we were treated to stories of his foundation. A former Vietnam vet, he now trains vets to fly-fish in nearby waters and beyond - an activity to help alleviate post-traumatic stress disorder (PTSD). Charmen is a design consultant, her natural flair evident in the clean modernistic lines of her home.
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When Sharon joined us, we were ready to set out for San Francisco’s Embarcadero. A brief ride ensued on one of the city’s historic streetcars. These vintage vehicles, “museums in motion”, were built in the twenties and thirties, some requisitioned from as far away as Milan, Lisbon, Melbourne and Osaka. Ours included the original wall instructions to passengers in Italian. For the record, unlike cable cars, streetcars operate with a trolley pole, getting their power from overhead wires.
Landing at the original 19th century Ferry Building, we explored the majestic concourse of artisan food shops and farm stands, pausing for tamales and a chocolate and salted caramel giveaway. The salt air beckoning us, we took a leisurely if chilly walk on the pier, which afforded us a splendid view of the Oakland Bay Bridge. Salesforce Park was next on our agenda, the city’s answer to New York City’s High Line. In 2018, following an eight-year construction period of the new Transbay Transit Center and Salesforce Park, a crack in one of its beams was discovered. After some 278 days of closure, the Center was reopened, just in time for our visit. |
This oasis in the sky sports 600 trees and some 16,000 plants - a botanical wonderland. After such a surprise, wouldn’t a little tree-hugging among the conifers in Olympic National Park be anticlimactic? I wondered.
That night we returned to the Embarcadero. Coqueta is a lavish tapas restaurant with a roomy and rustic allure and where the small plates won the day. Patatas Bravas, smoked potato balls fried to perfection, and Gambas al Negro, a dish of gulf prawns in olive oil, black garlic and chili sauce emerged as the favorites.
Joanne’s brother Dan and his wife live in a restored Victorian house in the Panhandle section, close to Haight-Ashbury. The psychedelic days of Janis Joplin and Timothy Leary are gone, but the neighborhood still retains multicolored storefronts, along with a few aged “flower children” among the newer, well-heeled inhabitants. A brief visit was an ideal beginning to our second day.
That night we returned to the Embarcadero. Coqueta is a lavish tapas restaurant with a roomy and rustic allure and where the small plates won the day. Patatas Bravas, smoked potato balls fried to perfection, and Gambas al Negro, a dish of gulf prawns in olive oil, black garlic and chili sauce emerged as the favorites.
Joanne’s brother Dan and his wife live in a restored Victorian house in the Panhandle section, close to Haight-Ashbury. The psychedelic days of Janis Joplin and Timothy Leary are gone, but the neighborhood still retains multicolored storefronts, along with a few aged “flower children” among the newer, well-heeled inhabitants. A brief visit was an ideal beginning to our second day.
Dan recommended Zazi, a small French bistro for lunch on nearby Cole Street, the menu boasting a tip-free (!) array of delicious salads and soups. Prices include a living wage for the workers plus a revenue share of the business, paid family leave and a comprehensive insurance plan. Colorful Gallic posters and photos of the French actress Zazi adorn the walls.
As we were headed back to the Mission District for a dinner that night at Sharon’s apartment, I felt I could indulge my passion to visit Mission San Francisco de Assisi (popularly known as Mission Dolores). It is the oldest intact mission of the twenty-one that comprise the California mission chain, and one that had intrigued me since its prominent role in Alfred Hitchcock’s film Vertigo. In the cool darkness of the parish church, rows of empty pews only enhanced the ghostly, ethereal quality of the space. Outside, the cemetery garden features a prominent statue of Father Junipero Serra, the original founder of the statewide mission complex. |
Father Junipero Serra
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A lighthearted mood prevailed that evening. We dined on one of Sharon’s Indonesian courses, followed by heaps of homemade ice cream that Scott had provided. Conversation drifted to the couple’s early year of roaming through Thailand, Cambodia, Burma and the Kyber Pass, hopping on and off steamers with the can-do spirit their young lives provided. With the same inventiveness, they purchased their current home. Scott’s architectural business is housed on the ground floor, with their upper floor apartment sporting an eclectic mix of objects reminiscent of their travels.
Fourth of July, our last day before our Alaska Air flight to Seattle, came and went too fast - our hosts grilling on the peripheries of Cal’s perfectly appointed Japanese garden. By the time we said our farewells to Sharon and Scott, the fog had rolled in, obscuring the distant view of the Pacific from our hillside.
How do you say goodbye to The City by the Bay with its never-ending riches of old and new friendships? With 4:00am hugs and kisses and the promise to return.
Fourth of July, our last day before our Alaska Air flight to Seattle, came and went too fast - our hosts grilling on the peripheries of Cal’s perfectly appointed Japanese garden. By the time we said our farewells to Sharon and Scott, the fog had rolled in, obscuring the distant view of the Pacific from our hillside.
How do you say goodbye to The City by the Bay with its never-ending riches of old and new friendships? With 4:00am hugs and kisses and the promise to return.
Seattle
“Another urban junket?” you’re probably asking. But wait, there’s a method to our madness…
Plans to meet up with Annaville and Nettie, our favorite Dutch couple from Amsterdam, were hatched months prior. The Call of the Wild held great interest to them, inspired in no small part by Hollywood’s own version of the West. Besides, Seattle was close by, wasn’t it?
Leaving the SeaTac Airport, we hopped aboard the efficient Sound Transit Light Rail service into the central downtown area. Our chosen hotel, The Moore, is billed as an econo-classic hotel with a 1920s lived-in charm. Built in 1907 by developer James A. Moore as a hotel and theater complex, it retains just the right mix of retro glamour and budget-friendly prices. When we arrived, the downstairs coffee house was packed to the brim with early morning drinkers of the hotel’s own brand.
“Another urban junket?” you’re probably asking. But wait, there’s a method to our madness…
Plans to meet up with Annaville and Nettie, our favorite Dutch couple from Amsterdam, were hatched months prior. The Call of the Wild held great interest to them, inspired in no small part by Hollywood’s own version of the West. Besides, Seattle was close by, wasn’t it?
Leaving the SeaTac Airport, we hopped aboard the efficient Sound Transit Light Rail service into the central downtown area. Our chosen hotel, The Moore, is billed as an econo-classic hotel with a 1920s lived-in charm. Built in 1907 by developer James A. Moore as a hotel and theater complex, it retains just the right mix of retro glamour and budget-friendly prices. When we arrived, the downstairs coffee house was packed to the brim with early morning drinkers of the hotel’s own brand.
My head was still reeling from memories of the last trip we’d shared with our old travel buddies in St. Petersburg. Now they were sitting opposite us, as if we’d all just emerged from a stroll through the Hermitage: Annaville, the writing teacher, and Nettie with her great shock of red hair, the actress incarnate - both curious and irreverent as ever.
The Seattle Art Museum was our first stop. Impossible to miss, the 48-foot-tall Hammering Man stood guard over the entrance. Its black steel arm raises and lowers four times a minute, every day of the year except - you guessed it - Labor Day! The most stunning temporary exhibit was a series of 76 photographic portraits by Zanele Maholi, a South African visual activist, through November 23. The self-images are so politically charged, one could almost overlook the startling black and white beauty of each portrait. The brisk air and the sound of screaming gulls greeted us as soon as our feet hit Pike Place Market. It was all here, whatever “all” was, but by the time we had jostled our way through the thickening masses, the best option seemed to be a bowl of chowder. (I must admit, this was one time when I could save the “Oldest Comic Book Shop in the World” for the younger set.) Note: Plan to arrive at 8 a.m. and not a minute later. |
Designed by sculptor Jonathan Borofsky, Seattle’s Hammering Man sculpture
was built to honor the working class men and women of the world. |
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We had prior reservations for the Space Needle that evening, with a preordained time for top deck viewing. This skyline landmark was opened in 1962 for the Seattle World’s Fair and even if its 605-foot height is hardly comparable to Olympic National Park’s Mount Olympus, advertised at 7,980 feet, it was still head-spinning. The open-air observation deck made me want to stay, even with toddlers pushing for space on the rotating glass floor, the city spread far below.
Wandering around in the dark twilight afterwards, I hailed a young man who had picked up on our tentative state. “Lost?” I retorted quickly, “No, just hungry!” Pointing down a nearby dark alley, he recommended a decent Italian trattoria at the bottom. Il Bistro was a “find” for weary feet, with the candlelit interior a further plus. My Pasta Bolognese with a lamb and veal ragu was the best I’ve ever had. Leaving the restaurant, we took a sharp left for a closeup view of The Gum Wall. A local theater company started the tradition of sticking chewing gum to the wall, sometimes with coins, around 1993. The idea stuck, and it remains a popular tourist attraction. |
Our final day was reserved for a trip to Bainbridge Island, a 35-minute excursion across Puget Sound on the Washington State Ferry. Let’s face it: you can’t tour Seattle without hearing the siren’s call of the Sound. It’s worth noting that single tickets only totaled $17 for the four of us, which included our return. (Passenger cars pay each way.)
Bainbridge Island
A short hike from the Ferry, the new Bainbridge Island Museum of Art is an easy stop and free. An emphasis on local Puget Sound artists made the visit particularly interesting. In the center of town, we discovered an outside table at Marche, enjoying deviled eggs, Croque Monsieur sandwiches and iced tea. Before heading back, we managed a few minutes at the Bainbridge Island Japanese American Exclusion Memorial Association (BIJAEMA). On March 3, 1942 with six days’ notice from President Roosevelt, 276 Japanese American women and children were forcibly removed from the island and sent to a California detention camp. The museum was a moving visit for all of us, and it made me wish our new Japanese-American friend Cal could have shared it with us. Once back and in no hurry to leave the Waterfront Park, Joanne and I opted for a sunset dinner at Ivar’s Acres of Clams at Pier 54 while our pals decided on more citywide sightseeing. (Note: Even with loved ones in tow, a brief split-up to accommodate differences of choice can make the heart grow fonder.) |
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Waterfront at Dusk (Seattle)
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The gulls can create quite a racket near the front takeout window, but securing a rear outside table was quieter and worth the wait. The restaurant was founded in 1938 by Norwegian-Swede Ivar Hoagland, known as Seattle’s “King,” “Mayor” and “Patriarch.” Joanne didn’t hesitate to order two pounds of the local Manila clams in a garlic and white wine sauce, and I opted for the Alaska Halibut fish and chips. Watching the sky turn a crimson red over the water never grows old.
We went to sleep that night, counting bison instead of sheep, with images of the mythical West dancing in our heads. In our October issue, Sandra and her travel companions will get their first glimpses of the wonders of the Washington Peninsula, confronting the majesty of one of this country’s most diversified and magical National Parks - ancient coastlines, moss-covered rain forests and pristine glacier lakes. Stay tuned… |
Sandra Bertrand is an award-winning playwright and painter. She is Chief Art Critic for Highbrow Magazine and a contributing writer for GALO Magazine. Sandra was Sanctuary's Featured Artist in May 2019 and will be sharing inspirational journeys in Sanctuary's "Travel Journal."