In case there was any question

I'd lived in San Francisco for a couple of years before I noticed that a MUNI bus seemed to be crossing the Golden Gate Bridge. So one day while at the Bridge on a scenery break, I hopped on the bus and found that it climbed the hills on the other side of the Bridge and circled around at Fort Cronkite and Rodeo Beach in the Marin Headlands. It immediately became my favorite bus line, despite running hourly on Sundays only.

Without a car, and especially after Bryan moved on with his Ford Explorer, it would be long before I'd start to feel claustrophobic and have to get out of the City. So there was a period where almost every Sunday I'd hop on the bus to get recharged in the fresh air and open space in the Headlands. I've tramped all over the cliffs, explored the hilltop ruins of the abandoned batteries, clambered over stone arches to hidden tidepools, combed the gravel beaches for carnelian stones -- and all within site of the dense urban crush.

For whatever reason, it's been ages since I'd done this, so today dawned with such astounding clarity that I dropped everything and jumped on the bus with a sandwich and a bottle of water. And it was the perfect day.

In solitude I hiked a few trails through my old haunts, the hillsides blooming with electric wild irises and fields of golden poppies. Little birds twittered amongst the blossoming blackberry canes and turkey vultures turned lazy circles in the gentle breeze. The air was so clear that I could see the Farallon Islands 27 miles out at sea, the Santa Cruz Mountains to the south of the City, Mt. Diablo rising vividly to the east, and Pt. Reyes sprawling out to the north. At the end of my hike, I waded into the frigid grey waters and soaked up the warming rays of the setting sun while surfers tamed the pounding surf.

This, this is why I still live here.

It was a good day.