15th May - The consequences of jumping are fatal and tragic

This was (as the now bankrupt former Dragons Denner Rachel Elnaugh more would say) a red letter day.
Hank reminded us all of his presence and the hangover made us get up late but we paid no mind and headed back to North Beach and Coit Tower. This place was built with cash from the deceased and seemingly nutty Lizzie Coit who left a third of her large wealth for the betterment of San Fran. Good on the old boot!
The tower affords pretty spectacular three-sixty views of the city taking in Alcatraz, the city centre, loads of water and a foxy lady that we'll talk about in good time.
But first we had to park up and figure up how to get there. I decided to ask a fifty year old power-walker with a mouth like Jaws from James Bond who was very helpful and lovely and told us to take the scenic route. Then we did the awkward thing of saying thanks, bye etc and walking in the same direction and pace as the other person and having nothing to say to them.
We were ill-prepared for what lay in wait for us following the lady's ill advice that we should walk up to the tower. There is a very famous and scenic street called Lombard street that looks like this:













Instead we got to climb what was, at a conservative estimate, about 50 million steps. No jokes. Tenner bet. Ask my mum.
I didn't mind and was (very) annoyingly running up the buggers two at a time and looking back at the other two who were somewhat less enthusiastic about the ascent. We eventually got to the top and into a lift (5 dorrar) up the monument to generous eccentricity. 'I hope it makes it dis time' parroted the lift guy for, no exaggeration ask my tenner, the 50 millionth time. For me this concern was genuine as it was, to say the least, an antiquated beast. I also developed the early onset of claustrophobia as the further south you go, the fatter Americans get and we were fair packed in to this 'elevator'. Breathless and red I got out just before i thought I'd pass out for no good reason at all. We got some good views through tiny wee windows.














Now the real sightseeing could begin.

We were eight miles away but i could hear her calling to me in the wind. 'Come walk 'pon my back, feel my cables in your human hands, press your warm face 'gainst my cold towers, marvel at my parabola gradient...' she seemed to say.

There was no way I could drive so Ian took charge of the vehicle as we were going to sight numero one on my list and I needed to soak it in.
















As she loomed in the distance I couldn't believe she was so close after seeing so many pictures and films. We drove across to North Vista Point which was absolutely freezing as the sun was about to set, then drove through a tunnel with a rainbow on it from the Dirty Harry films. We could now drive back over to the Presidio side and my all too brief fling could begin.
















It was getting pretty chilly over this side as well but the views were fantastic on a clear day and as the sun said goodnight we stepped on with the various cyclists, joggers, tourists, budding suiciders and prom night kids. It truly is a magnificent structure and you can't really comprehend how much until you actually get on it and 'feel the heft' so to speak.
















I have to say that if I was a confused, desperate homosexual, this is where I would come to end it all. So if I ever tearily book a ticket to San Fran please MAKE THE CALL on my behalf.
It was very windy and I was giddy and thought that I looked like once of those wizard fellas in Lord Of The Rings with my jacket flapping about me dramatically as I demanded photo after photo be taken.
















When we got to the first tower I was idly looking over the edge when I thought I saw a diver swimming around the base of the great weight-transference structure. Then he leapt out of the water with a quick thrash of his tail and bit down hard on a seabird before dragging it under the water! Whaaa?! This was no human it was a seal/sea lion (I can't be sure, I'm no Terry Nutkins)!!!
And another!
And another!
Rapture and joy unbridled! They were all at it! Jumping out of the water and grabbing at birds! I told some nearby twenty-something tourists who appeared to have gone blind, gave up on them and alerted a nearby father and child combo who were equally excited by this unexpected treat.
Amazing.
Here's the tower we watched this from before the other two made me come home.















Then we ordered a fairly substandard take-away, got tickets to see Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles at midnight, didn't go cos we were too tired and went to bed.
THANKS A LOT HANK

14th May

We went a few blocks away from Union Square onto Bush Street and the Mayflower Hotel.
It was good to be staying somewhere that had individuality and was reasonably nice. It was even nicer that when I complained to the staff that our keycards weren't working I also managed to get an upgrade into the nicest available room!
So now we had a seperate sleeping area and a wee kitchen.
Great.
After settling in we planned a night out on the advice of a local bartender who suggested we try North Beach and Columbus Avenue. Unfortunately we hadn't planned on anywhere to eat so settled on Hanks Sandwich Bar before embarking on the walk up to North Beach. This would have been a funny excursion had the repercussions of Hanks 'food' not lingered with us all for days - that's all I'll say about that.

NEVER EAT AT HANKS. Hank himself staggered in at 8pm as we were halfway through our chow bringing with him what i can only presume was a multiple divorcee of advanced years who thought she still had the goods to cash the checks. He pumped up the volume on the terrible 80's mix and staggered across to get great splashes of cheap white wine into horrible whiskey glasses before briefly leaving his mistress to slur a string of unintelligble (what i can only presume) insults at us whilst stagger-dancing. Hanks place must have been 10ft by 10ft by the way....
















So we headed to North Beach, did our usual party trick of aimlessly wandering around for a good hour, and eventually happened upon a pretty crappy bar with a pretty crappy DJ who upon further inspection I confirmed, WAS in fact a woman. Of sorts.
This place was like a cross between the streets shown in Taxi Driver filled with the people shown in Saved By The Bell - The College Years. Strip club after strip club after strip club with various twats outside trying to entice/force people in. No (t)Hanks.
We went slightly south into what seemed to be an under-18's bar and saw the San Fran Bizzaro World version of Jesse. Yes it was Jewel's band and they were utter garbage and they had no idea.Here we are enjoying another one of Jewel's inimitable solo's
















After one ridiculously priced and weak drink we decided to hop in a cab and go back to near our hotel. Come on San Fran! Buck your ideas up!
We decided to go to Bigfoot Lodge which was the place Ian and Owen had received their shoddy advice some hours hence. This is a good place and there's a massive statue of Sasquatch in the bar and a good video jukebox. This was better.

Ian decided to leave so me and Owen went to another bar called Hemlock which was excellent. Here i encountered a woman who looked like a bag lady wandering around the bar with two coolboxes on a trolley which contained free cake. She was giving out slices and professionally printed fliers as enticements for strangers to her upcoming 50th birthday party. I politely declined... Here i am moments later; the best places usually have the worst toilets. Out of the blue I exclaimed my delight at Bikini Kill to two confused but not overly-perturbed girls and we left.
















We decided to have one more across the road at Vertigo, a bar/club that was themed on the famous film, that should be cool right? Hmmm not really, it was very touristy but it was good to people-watch and we'd had our fair share of boozy fun in the end and we could walk home satisfied.

13th May - 'Holiday Road'

Driving 800 miles in two days is no joke and apparently Seattle to San Fran in two days is no mean feat. So there, we finally achieved something of small worth.
A bum tried to get money off us then told us that people were trying to get him and could he have a ride away from the area. The other two begged and pleaded to take him but I had to put my foot firmly down and we pushed on away from this place.

Getting into California is a real treat. You come down from the snow-topped mountains and roads that are in excess of 5000ft and within 30 minutes you're in baking heat and a whole new state. I'm starting to sound like Judith Chalmers now...but the scenery is spectacular, the kind of spectacular that makes you forget to take pictures.













We went to The Sizzler, a small-town place that meant well but was, to borrow a phrase from Shakespeare, fucking horrible. It didn't matter that they got the orders wrong, the food was similar to a microwave meal and that Ian's arrived 20 minutes later than ours because when it eventually arrived the waiter made the campest orgasm noise of all time as he laid the plate down in an effort to assuage Ian's notorious firey temper and encourage enjoyment of the meal. It was the kind of 'mmmmm' that is usually followed by the word 'mince'.

We also saw crop-dusters which made us go all Jimmy Stewart.

We went over Bay Bridge just after sunset which was great and nighttime San Francisco loomed before us. I was in the back getting all giddy as this bridge was on my list and it's good to drive (or be driven) down.
We had used our Holiday Inn time wisely and booked into Parc 55 (courtesy of Hotels.com - much more on them later....) in the famous Union Square area. Wow. Union Square is FULL to the brim with not-rights. This was quite an intimidating intro to the new city but the plushness of our new hotel helped to ease our unease.
Look, we had a phone on the toilet!











'Cable guy'



A quick drink in the hotel bar confirmed that we were in slightly over our heads here.















So we ventured aimlessly out and after a bit of walking went to various ill-advised bars. A very dead faux English 'pub' and then a terrible terrible Irish bar that is typical of any tourist part of any city. Here we were treated to horrible covers of Pink Floyd and U2 by Val Kilmer and his drum machine. This picture is a fitting review of the evening...















But we weren't too concerned, we were here and had plenty of time to go to places we wanted to be and when you're going to wake up to this kind of view from your hotel window you can't possibly be pessimistic.

12th May

Tara wasn't finished yet. She had an encore of benevolence when she made us breakfast.
Ian tentatively put forward that I was snoring gently through the night like a beautiful cat. I'm one of those people who finds the notion of them snoring beyond comprehension so i secretly scoffed at his suggestion (knowing that i could never ever be as inhumanly loud as my travelling chums).
We bade her and her parents house farewell and turned our backs on Seattle with a single tear in our collective metaphorical eye and headed down the Interstate-5 well rested and well fed.
This was a drive and a half. We had no actual target or anywhere to stay, just a granite-faced determination to get as far down the west coast as possible and a whole load of Adam and Joe podcasts to keep the cabin fever at bay.
We'd been told to go to Portland as it is supposed to be amazing but it's a little too close to Seattle and unfortunately we would not be able to 'party'(a word that should never be used as a verb) there as we wanted to get to San Francisco; the next phase of the odyssey.
It did indeed look like a really good place. Stonking bridges traversing what seemed like the main area and the most interesting thing we saw driving through quite frankly boring looking Oregon.




We managed to go til about ten in the evening and surrendered at the feet of a pretty swanky Holiday Inn in the town of Yreka (Archimedes fans rejoice)! Yreka the town was as desolate and bleak as Yreka the museum in Halifax that m,y parents mistakenly took me to on a bank holiday only to discover it was shut. I managed to get my blag on and a bit of a discount from the lady on the desk - this slightly countered the disappointment of missing out on the spectacular Astoria to Megler bridge that would have entailed a 100 mile around diversion.

11th May - "Who are you and what have you done with Jesse?"

Checkout time. The worry about Jesse's disappearance has now been replaced with acceptance and we can now begin to grieve. I personally will never forget him or what he did for us that night. These were dark times. One of those hangovers that makes you question your place on this earth and doubt your ability to look after yourself properly.
But what's that shining through the blackness on this actually very sunny day? It's the welcoming beacons of The Five Points cafe and Tara Secrettie! The former fed us monster food again before we set off through downtown and back to Tara's house for the third act in her production of multiple kindnesses.
Free bed and board, pizza, cookies and cable TV whilst she went to ferry her son to baseball practice - this was a very American day and amazing to boot.
We fell asleep watching Sly (but more importantly John Lythgoe)in Cliffhanger, which gave me the opportunity to watch some football on one of the many many channels and nearly explode at the most annoying commentary of all time!
Later on we were joined by Bridget, Seth and Megan for a most wholesome game of Apples to Apples. This passed off without incident and the need for a violent bloodbath was eliminated. Seth ran away with the title, proving that Americans (and Owen) don't know anything about anything! It was great and just what we needed before the longest drive of our short young lives.

I can't find any photos from this day. Instead look at this clip (in Spanish of course) and watch the old man's face at 3:20 and 3:40 .....He is clearly relishing the prospect of that young ladies' death with extreme relish and almost sexual excitement!

10th May

Managed to get a good nights sleep thanks to booze and valium. I set off alone for a game of football (English) which i was very excited about. Turned out to be something of an anti-climax as it was the hottest day in Seattle since records began (admittedly not long ago but still...) and I wasn't exactly in peak condition and couldn't run as much as usual. They really don't do football out here. It was really disorganised and a lot of them, whilst being in great physical shape, haven't got a clue and it was one of the weirdest games I've ever played in. Having said all that it was worth doing and there were one or two players who were really really good - I also managed to stud someone an all-American jock called Todd right in the knee and he didn't love that at all.
For the afternoon the other two got a cab down to the pitches and we headed for North-Bend armed with our new GPS and a list of filming locations used in Twin Peaks.
We crammed a lot into this very enjoyable afternoon starting with the Twin Peaks cafe for some ridiculously big burgers which meant we had to forcefeed ourselves the obligatory cherry pie and coffee.Had a look at some of the fascinating memorabilia on the walls and bought a map of the area that was literally drawn by a child and commanded the Full Authority of such a document....F.A.

I won't bore you with all the details but it was a great day driving around the woods and backwaters of this very picturesque place and we even managed to find the corner where the sign from the opening titles was filmed.


We finished the pilgrimage off with a trip to Snoqualmie Falls and the Great Northern hotel. Jaw-dropping scenery here. Owen saw the actor Michael Sheen (Frost/Nixon, The Damned United amongst others) but neglected to mention this as he thought I might cause a scene somehow - a good photo op missed there I feel.

We feebly minced through the exceedingly swanky hotel and managed to have a refreshing pineapple juice in top notch bar overlooking the falls. Upon leaving Ian was HIV POSITIVE that to exit this Labyrinthine den of rooms, spas and bars we had to go through "THIS door", authoratatively swinging the door open and proceeding straight into the kitchens. We laughed a lot at this.
Owen's onrushing powerful cold procluded him from partaking in the night of death and the most drunken I have been in many a year.
We'd arranged to go out with Steve who is a rock star in the band These Arms Are Snakes, Erin who is also a rock star with Minus The Bear, his girlfriend, a lovely chap called Michael and A Guy Called Gerald who makes videos for Nike. After meeting in Sun Liquor we went to Erin's nice apartment and encountered something called the Volcano. This worked out well for Ian. Then to the Bus Stop, a gay karaoke bar where i was forced to drink a shot of whiskey and listen to screeching queens.
Things improved when we went to another karaoke bar called the crescent for a couple of Jagers, for some reason we were only drinking shots with the odd bit of beer to douse the stomach pain. When we hit Dunnes I thought it was a tremendous achievement of them to serve Boddingtons and paid tribute to this by drinking lots of it. It was getting wonky and we were talking mountains of shit to each other as the drinks were mixing in our tummys.
We went back to Redwood and by now I was telling anyone within earshot how much i loved the city. Unfortunately in the last half hour of the evening Steve did one of those things where the person you're out with just realises how scrambled they are and fucks off! This coincided with a very strange guy trying to speak to me at the bar in a way I didn't understand and was not comfortable with - fortunately i was drunk and had no qualms about simply walking away from him mid-sentence.
Being in a taxi careering up and down hills in a city centre with lights fair whizzing past your eyes makes you sick. So I did a sick. Great day great night.

JESSE WHERE ARE YOU WHEN I NEEEEED YOU TO HOLD MY HAIR BACK?!?!?

9th May

Once again we got up slightly late and went a few blocks from our superbly located hotel (in the daytime) to the famous monorail. Hmmm.....
We were now downtown and i couldn't resist buying a football from the Nike shop whilst owen got some trainers and I also purchased a smooth pair of Levi's in what must have been record time - none of us like shopping. Ian also gave money to a busker! He was brilliant at playing makeshift drums on the pavement.
We then went to meet up with a chunk of the people from last night at a barbecue being hosted at Tara's and had to negotiate the almost physically impossible hills of Seattle that were right in the city centre and shat ourselves when we had to stop on the cusp of a hill with a busy street and the sea behind us. I was genuinely terrified but Ian pulled through with his Clarkson-esque driving skills and political views. We had a lovely balmy Saturday evening with the addition of a Texan named Dan and Elliot's girlfriend Cara (sp?).

More good banter, good food and two Highland Terriers called Maguire and Abbey who couldn't have been more different.
After watching a few Curb Your Enthusiasms we tailed Elliot around town in search of a lesbian birthday party but couldn't park up anywhere.
The first downer in the town happened when we missed the midnight Pink Floyd laser show by one minute and couldn't get in. The theatre was again, just round the corner from us and we did get the consolation of seeing car after car after car of creepy creepy men cruising the streets looking for payable pusseh. How we laughed t'ward them.
We thought we'd get back to the 1970's hotel and tell Jesse all about it but he wasn't there.....something strange is going on.....