After being denied the opportunity to hire a bike, I looked to my second favourite visitor pastime – floating around on a ferry. Checking out the San Francisco Bay ferry routes, the farthest service point seemed to be Vallejo. Easy choice. That’s vall-ay-o, not vall-ar-joe as I called it. Silly me.
When I got the ticket, it had no wharf number on it, nor any direction to where to catch the ferry. This forced me to return to the Ticket window? The service man says: “tum left, be” What? Left out the door is along the 5km promenade. Found a Wharf B, and a guy from Frankenstein #7 grunted when I asked “is this the ferry to Vall-ay-o?” No sign up at the wharf either. They must get asked a zillion times a day by idiot tourists what ferry is what. Crazy. Maybe the homeless people could sort it out for them at Fisherman’s Wharf.
The ferry trip was great. Huge expanses of water, and a fantastic panorama of San Francisco receding as the ferry makes its steady way northwards. With little housing on waters edges, the bays and inlets are surprisingly undeveloped.
Vallejo appeared in just an hour. While there is a lot of heavy industry around the port, Vallejo is an access point for popular wineries in the Napa Valley. As I got there, Regional tourist places were setting up stands at the wharf to entice the arriving Friday afternoon tourists.
Not me though, I was only going to be in town for a short while. Just enough time to sit in the park, have a coffee, and then make a toilet stop. At the local John F Kennedy Library, I asked where the toilets were. Blank looks. Had to get someone else to help with that question. Ohhhh, the restrooms! Down there.
To take in a different perspective of the greater San Francisco countryside I caught a bus back to San Francisco that went through Oakland and around Berkeley university. The bus came into Frisco proper over the vertigo inducing Bay Bridge.
A nice way to finish a few hours sight seeing.