Cliff walks east and west
I was in San Francisco for a week, and never before have I seen such an uninterrupted stretch of beautiful weather in a city known for fog and cold even in summer.
It’s spring, and the blooming flowers were out—some of them familiar (California poppies and broom and magnolias), some of them unfamiliar (that purple bush and the blue bush and those little lavender thingees).
I stayed at the home of friends who live near cliff walks and classic views of the Golden Gate Bridge. There’s a lookout and a walkway along rocky ledges, strands of eucalyptus and twisted cypress trees, mansions overlooking the precipitous drops to China Beach below and the mirage-like green and brown mountains across the way.
It’s a scene I know well, having been there many times before. But it never fails to awe and surprise, especially the scenic overlooks right before and after the bridge, areas so crowded with cars on nice weekends that it’s impossible to park. The tourists (and I suppose I’m one of them) all want to take photos of themselves in front of the bridge looming so close behind, with Alcatraz a peaceful-seeming island in the nearby bay, and the city gleaming in the background like a magical Oz on a hill—not emerald, but white and shimmering in the very special light that seems to bathe everything here.
I live in a place with islands and cliff walks and a bridge, too. But it has a fraction of the population and tourists, the Atlantic Ocean rather than the Pacific, and four extreme seasons rather than San Francisco’s relative mildness.
And yet, as I explore the San Francisco version, there’s something intensely familiar about it. It’s not that it looks the same, not really. But somehow it feels the same. The birds swoop down, the vistas entice, the waves crash, the views to the opposite shore and then out to the open ocean beckon with an air of excitement and wonder, and the air has that freshness and sweet fragrance that can only be found at the ocean in spring.
I could be home, walking the cliffs that are about a minute from my own house. A cliff walk is a cliff walk is a cliff walk, as it turns out, and one could do worse than travel three thousand miles from one to the other, variations on a single theme.
I was in the Bay area once. I was two years old. I only remember the “candy store” across the street from my uncle’s house.
Cliff walks I have known–very nice. Whether Alaska, Mexico, or Australia, cliffs above the sea are very romantic.
Every time I walk along a cliff at Pt. Reyes or the Marin Headlands, I think about the San Andreas fault, but even that awareness does not detract from the bliss. In fog, in sun, under the stars–there is nothing like the steady crash of the surf, hundreds of feet below.
It’s freezing back east. I think it is because they released another Global Warming Report.
The cliff walk between the towns of the Cinque Tera is the best in the world…..well, maybe that at Lagos comes close. But I agree, any cliff on any ocean will do for serenity.
Oh, and may I add Palermo, Dover, and the beaches of Normandy? So many cliffs and beaches, so hard to choose.
Dusty, ALL,
If you ever have the opportunity to visit the west coast of Ireland, don’t pass up the cliffs on the coast lines of Kerry, Galway, and Claire. These are some of the awesome cliff walks on the planet.
Cliffs of Moher you are speaking of? Yes, impressive too, but I found the west coast of Scotland up toward Invernay, not to be confused with Inverness, much more scenic and remarkable.
But if you are speaking of Inis Mor in the Aran Islands in the Déºn Aengus fort area…..agree. Had not remembered that offhand but now that is some impressive cliffs!
besphoto.comI would have to add Kauai’s Na Pali cliffs (Hawaii) to the list.
http://www.besphoto.com/besphoto/newsite/morefineart/Hawaii/forweb/mistyshorlinetookawainapalicoastkawaihawaii.html
I love San Francisco. You are right, the light has a unique quality at certain times of year, when the mists have blown or burned away.