Our next couple mornings started similar to our first – early runs through the city, coffee, and gluten free pastries.
Fueled on carbs and caffeine, we stopped by to wish our best to the sea lions, and continued west along the Embarcadero, past Fisherman’s Wharf and Fort Mason, ambitiously walking our way towards the most identifiable San Francisco landmark.
Our route tracked the first 6 or so miles of the San Francisco Marathon, from the intersection of Mission Street and the Embarcadero to the Presidio. Neal spent his time visualizing himself as part of the race excitement in 2020; Margaret spent her time wishing they had rented bikes for the trek.
Following another physically demanding start to the day, it was finally time for some rest, relaxation, and education in California’s viticulture.
Meet Eno, a cute and cozy wine bar in the heart of Union Square with a respectable wine list, good beers, and amazing people watching.
Thoroughly quenched, we meandered back towards the bay for the primary event of the evening. Stop 1 – 21st Amendment Brewery and their Hell or High Watermelon Wheat.
Stop 2 – Oracle Park, home of the San Francisco Giants.
This was the 19th ballpark Neal has seen a game at, and easily falls within his Top 3. The views of the bay are beautiful, and as the sun set the sky became filled with all versions of pink, blue, purple, and orange. It was quite the amazing experience, albeit a little chilly.
After getting properly windblown for most of the trip, the next morning we woke up to sunnier skies and warmer temperatures. It was so nice, that many of San Francisco’s residents took the opportunity to get a little sunbathing in.
Our last touristy stop was the famous (or perhaps infamous) Lombard Street, a steep, one-block street with eight hairpin turns known to be the “crookedest street in the world.”
Even though we got there early, the area was already packed with tourists – they were literally being dropped off by the cable car full. Despite the crowds, the gardens and character of the street found a way to remain delightful.
Thoroughly exhausted and sad that our time was coming to an end, we headed back to the hotel to enjoy our annual 4th of July tradition – watching Wimbledon while sipping cocktails at a fancy hotel bar. As the matches ended, so did our time on Nob Hill.
From flowers to fly balls, it was a wonderful few days in the city. San Francisco, thanks for the hospitality!