A sentiment that I have been going to the nice parts of town and that I should explore wider. Following James’ advice I swing down to the Dog Patch, what a great name for a neighborhood, and then on to Hunter’s Point. This is where the big docks of San Francisco used to be. The seashore is now pretty desolate but full of interest. Some cameos:
The Bikeyard is run by a German lady named Franziska.
All surfaces are taken by old bikes, bits of old bikes, engines from old bikes and old bike paraphernalia.
“Can I take a photo?”
“OK but not of me; do you want to take a picture of xxxxxx?” I didn’t understand the name. “Who?”
In an old container around the back there is beautiful white Emden goose with bright blue eyes. She gets special food from LA and has her own paddling pool. She is very affectionate towards Franziska but doesn’t like me much. “She lives inside with me.” Geese are famously squirty. “She wears diapers – look.” Sure enough there are some soiled goose diapers.
I spot a sign that says – Parking for Hell’s Angels only.
I park my bike with total disregard for my own safety and wander into the yard of The SF Hell’s Angels. Spotlessly clean, great paint, no blood, no empties nor discarded underwear. “The old order changeth giving place to new.”
Heron’s Head Park is a piece of reclaimed land in the middle of the old docks. Fantastic selection of birds in post-industrial setting.
Get goats going on your weeds. I stumble across a goat farm run by happy charming people. They rent out the goats to people who want land cleared of vegetation.
That would be a nice job.