The Long and Winding Road to Our Hotel

When the Boarding Call for our flight to San Francisco finally came, Linette was off buying herself a Super Double Grande Latte Frappacino Mocha Extra Hot with sprinkles at Starbucks. Fortunately, the sick and the lame were pretty slow during the advance boarding, so she made it back just before I was going to go without her. Fortunate for me, mostly. We got settled aboard and soon roared off into the leaden sky.

After a short and mercifully uneventful flight during which we were frequently bombarded by incomprehensible, thickly Hispanic-accented cabin announcements, we dropped down through a low layer of clouds and onto the tarmac in San Francisco. It actually took longer to pick up the rental car than to fly down there. It was, in fact, a rental SUV...which was cheaper for some unfathomable reason, than a compact car. We loaded in our luggage and zipped up the highway to the City by the Bay.

We took the waterfront route and gawked at the wharves, warehouses, and weirdos. The car rental dude had given us a restaurant tip, so we made our way directly there and secured a window table with a view of the Bay and the "Rock". We watched people swimming laps just off-shore (it was by then mosty sunny, but still a cool fall day), and we noticed that several sea-lions were doing the same. (swimming, not watching the people...oh, well...maybe they were doing both, then)


With lunch concluded, we made a quick stop at Ghirardelli's chock-o-lit shoppe to feed my addiction, then walked around the block to see the beach, the hills, and the trolleys. The line-up to get a ride on a trolley was like something out of Disneyland! The afternoon was getting on, so we jumped back in the SUV and made our way across the Golden Gate and up the scenic and insanely serpentine coastal drive to Point Reyes Station.
The sun cast golden light and long shadows across the gently rolling hills as we turned inland for Santa Rosa.

By the time we reached Santa Rosa, it was dark. The name, Santa Rosa, had conjured images of a small, historical town with a few old buildings and about three streets. We had figured a Hilton hotel would stand out like a biker at a tupperware party, so we had no map of the town with us. The town was bigger than we expected. The "drive around until you see it" strategy failed miserably. So did the "ask a local for directions" strategy...three times. We received three completely different sets of directions. I think one of them would have landed us in Moosejaw. Finally, I spotted a big white Hilton sign up on a hilltop, miles north of town. We had found it.

We were rewarded for our trials by a delicious dinner and a couple of glasses of Zinfandel before hitting the hay early, exhausted from the day's long journey.