The Alemany Farmers' Market

The Alemany Farmers Market, known as “the people’s market,” is not to be missed with its organic produce, vegetable and herb seedlings for sale, hot, prepared foods to eat, buskers playing steel drums, and good people. It happens every Saturday, 8 a.m. to 3 p.m.

Apparently it was the first farmers’ market in California, founded in 1943, but that’s hard to believe since farmers have sold goods at markets for a long time. Regardless, it’s established and well loved, and definitely worth patronizing.

It’s accessible by bus and car, located at 100 Alemany Boulevard, at the confluence of the 280 and 101 freeways in southeastern San Francisco, and directly south of Bernal Hill. Parking is free.

It’s a nice idea to avoid plastic—bring cash and your own bags.

One of the best aspects to the Alemany Farmers’ Market is its proximity to a great urban hike—it’s literally on the southern edge of Bernal Hill, one of the prettiest places in San Francisco.

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It's Spring! Yay!

Spring is here! On Saturday at 1:30 in the afternoon, the Sun crossed directly over the Earth’s equator and marked the Vernal Equinox, when day and night are of equal length. The Vernal Equinox occurs anywhere from March 20^th to the 23^rd—this year it was on Saturday, March 20^th.

It's appropriate, therefore, to celebrate the arrival of spring by taking a hike on the green hills of the Bay Area, just now blooming with wildflowers.

Traditions

People have celebrated the Vernal Equinox for thousands of years. The Sphinx of Egypt gazes directly at the rising sun on this day. The Persian New Year, Nowruz, begins on this day. The first sign of the astrological zodiac, Aries, starts on March 21^st—it’s the sign that contains all potential, like a seed about to sprout. Some British Isle pagans believe the earth quickens with certain energy during this time, which they called Eostre (long before Christians celebrated Easter). 

“The ancient trackways, the ridgeways, were said to be the backbone of the dragon,” writes British author Glennie Kindred; perhaps it is especially good now to walk the ridges of hills and mountains—Skyline Boulevard of San Mateo County, Mount Tamalpais of Marin, Twin Peaks of San Francisco.

Winter is over in the northern hemisphere. Plants are sprouting new leaves. Flowers bloom, eggs hatch, animal babies are born. The equal length of day and night recalls the Chinese yin and yang symbol of dualities: male and female, hot and cold, dark and light.

It’s a good time to start a garden, or just get out among the wildflowers.

Enjoy the season!

Lake Merced of San Francisco

At the southernmost point of Lake Merced in San Francisco is a bridge connecting one side to the other. I decided to explore the bridge, see what I could see, and walk around the bottom part of the lake. It was near sunset and I was tired, so this was more of a short reconnoitering than a hike.

The first sounds I heard upon leaving the bubble of my car: gunshots and honking cars. Apparently there’s a gun range, and endless cars zooming down the thoroughfares on all shores.

 

Undaunted, I hoisted the baby into a sling and looked for nature.

The Baby Factor

Gunshots and racing cars aside, this is a lovely place to walk your baby. The lake is gorgeous, the air is crisp and marine, and the trees—what there are—are tall and green. A paved path meanders with the perimeter of the lake, roughly 4.5 miles. There are picnic tables, grassy areas (not just the three golf courses), barbeque pits, plenty of parking spaces, and public restrooms.

But at the bottom line, gunshots and traffic are a drag (Note: Pacific Rod and Gun Club releases its racketing volley on Wednesday, Saturday, and Sunday).

 

The Walk

Nature signs directed me to look for white-crowned sparrows in the coyote brush growing along the banks of the lake. I couldn’t see them. I listened for their “distinctive song, ‘I-I-I gotta go wee wee now!’” I really would’ve liked to hear that song, but there was a fusillade in the background.

In the summer, the coyote brush blooms pale flowers that butterflies feed from. That would be nice to check out. 

Cross the southern bridge where fishermen cast their reels and rowboats push through the water, and watch the ducks. And pigeons--lots of them swooping overhead in flocks. Note the marshy flora and consider that Lake Merced is freshwater, fed by an underground spring, and used to be San Francisco’s drinking source until Hetch Hetchy was made (and possibly could be an emergency drinking source for the City). Try walking around the lake, but avoid rush hour.  

Bolinas: a loop from downtown to the beach

No signs lead to Bolinas, so it’s difficult to bumble upon this seaside village. In the spirit of day tripping, Bolinas is a beautiful, quiet place to bring a baby or a child, especially mid-week when there’s less of a weekend crowd, as it’s no secret hideaway in the age of GPS. 

The Baby Factor

The one-mile loop is easy for small kids and babies in slings, and the beach is expansive, with plenty of room for running and playing. Keep in mind there’s no shade on the beach.

There are few lunch options besides picnicking. Kids might appreciate the Coast Café with its high chairs, crayons, chalk for using on the patio tiles, and Raggedy Ann dolls. Parents like the organic food grown within 25 miles of Bolinas. Next-door is the Bolinas Market, with tables and a grassy area behind the store.

The Details

Start on downtown’s main street, Wharf Road, at the library, the Bolinas Market, or the Coast Café, for food, water, and the bathroom. Walk east on Wharf Road towards the mountains, passing crab fishermen at the muddy flats, a boat club, a gallery, a hotel, and dozens of houses perched over the water on stilts. Wharf Road dead-ends at a rocky jumble where the Pacific Ocean meets Bolinas Lagoon; a salty old bench faces the sea and a leg of land from Stinson Beach.

Hug the shore to get to the wide beach—there’s about a hundred feet where land and sea merge. High tide makes the path impassable for children; your hike’s shape will be a horseshoe rather than a loop.

The beach is wide and sandy, strewn with flotsam in its upper reaches, decorated with driftwood, and bordered by a steep hill covered in greenery. Kids play naked, surfers ride waves, and women sunbathe.

A concrete ramp with graffiti-covered sides leads to Brighton Avenue, a street that connects with Wharf Road and downtown Bolinas. During high tide, enter the beach here.

Sunday Streets: No Cars, Just People on the Embarcadero

Sunday was a beautiful day with the sun shining on the Bay Area and such good air quality that the silhouette of Mount Diablo stood out clearly on the eastern horizon, even from my vantage point in San Francisco. Best of all it was a designated “Sunday Street” day, where San Francisco shuts down a long section of road to motor vehicles, opening the street for pedestrians, bicyclists, strollers—anything powered by legs, feet, and hands.

The selected stretch was mostly along the Embarcadero, starting in quiet China Basin, south of the ballpark, all the way to frenetic Pier 39. From end to end it was 3.8 miles. Even if the streets weren’t closed to cars, the walk is great with a constant view of the bay and the Oakland hills in the distance. There are green, grassy spots and play structures along the way for the children, public restrooms, and some cool, funky restaurants. As well, much of the route was part of the historic Barbary Coast Trail.

We began our walk at Mariposa and Illinois Streets, essentially on the backside of Potrero Hill.  My husband and I brought our baby in a stroller, and took sunhats, water, and carrot bread with my friend Jeannie’s homemade blood orange marmalade. Mariposa Street turns into Terry A. Francois Boulevard, curving along a waterfront, juxtaposing fishermen on old docks with razor wire on cyclone fences. But it was cool, immediately seeing people on bikes in the middle of the road. We’re so used to being watchful for cars, it took some time getting used to being in the middle of the road.

In the distance was the Bay Bridge. We mused, if we make it there, that’d be great. We didn’t think we’d walk all the way to Pier 39.

We walked on down Terry Francois Boulevard to where it doglegs to the left at Pier 48, the first green, grassy patch. Children were shrieking and sliding and jumping in an inflatable, plastic castle.

The route then connected with 3^rd Street, at Mission Creek, locally known as Shit Creek, as least by my old-time San Franciscan friends.  We crossed the 3^rd Street Drawbridge, my husband musing about what it would be like to live in the tiny office above the road.

The route continued along Willie Mays Plaza, on the cold side of the ballpark, but we hugged the water’s edge on the Barbary Coast Trail, named for the old red-light district in the days of the 49ers, now a trail made of concrete. Whooshing by came a bald and bearded man, his bike weaving happily, his sound system blaring a song by Musical Youth:

It was a cool and lovely breezy afternoon

(How does it feel when you've got no food ?)

You could feel it 'cause it was the month of June

(How does it feel when you've got no food ?)

So I left my gate and went out for a walk…

He was the Pied Pipers of bicyclists, with a throng behind him, including a Burner woman in hot pink, blowing bubbles.

Pass the Dutchie on the left hand side

Pass the Dutchie on the left hand side

It a gonna burn, give me music make me jump and prance…

I saw a homeless man turn and stare, and when he looked back, he was smiling. And all along the east side of the baseball stadium was a long, rectangular waterside park with tall, rustling trees. We stopped for a diaper change and hoisted the baby onto a sling I carried.

The rest of the walk was the Barbary Coast Trail, running parallel and just east of the Embarcadero. The northbound lane of the street was closed to motor vehicles. Now people were out en masse.  Martial arts practitioners flipped each other around at the diamond-shaped Rincon Park, also known as Cupid’s Span because of the enormous sculpture in the middle of the lawn of Cupid’s arrow piercing the heart of the City.  

We stopped at Tcho, a chocolate company, and tried free samples, preferring the darkest chocolate. We wandered through the Ferry Building, loving the smells of cheese and coffee (there’s a public bathroom here, by the way).  We meandered down the open road, noticing that anyone with a sound system strapped to their bicycle invariably had a following of people behind them—everyone likes a song. And more power to the busker’s on the sidewalks! There was even a band of kids, Exit to Rock, belting out Clash and Ramone’s covers.

Finally, just as the Embarcadero was opened to motor traffic at 3:00 in the afternoon, and the wind was beginning to blow, we reached Pier 39 and the Aquarium of the Bay. We sat and ate the last of our carrot bread, savoring the delicious marmalade. When we were leaving we noticed a modest playground, right alongside the water.

 

We decided to walk the whole way back, although we were tired and the baby got grumpy. We stopped for a rest and a bite at a very cool diner on the water, Red’s Java House, just south of the Bay Bridge. The homemade chili and beans, topped with huge chunks of cheese and wedges of yellow onion, was under $3; the cheeseburger bun was a fair hunk of San Francisco sourdough. I met a young, very pretty woman in line for the bathroom, drinking Pabst Blue Ribbon, who yammered about the great price of beer. “You can get a bucket of six beers for cheap!” she shrieked.

 

By the time we got back to where we began, our dogs were barking, the baby was sleeping in the stroller, and a crisp wind was blowing. We were still excited from the walk—that we went the whole route and back, the discovery of some places new to us, and the fact that there are a half dozen more of these car-free Sundays to come.

What and Where?

Sunday Streets Website

http://sundaystreetssf.com/

Tcho Chocolate

http://tcho.com/

Red’s Java House

Pier 30 (Bryant & Embarcadero)

(415) 777-5626

http://www.yelp.com/biz/reds-java-house-san-francisco

The next Sunday Street is April 11th, going along the Great Highway and through Golden Gate Park. 

Potrero Hill: From Water Tower to Library

My mom called this morning and mentioned Potrero Hill Library was having its grand reopening. “There’ll be a lion dance,” she said, “but I just want to get some books.” She’s had to use other libraries for years, it seems, while the Pot Hill Library underwent major renovations. I said I’d come over to her house, and walk to the library where I hoped to catch the Chinese lion dance, curious about my baby’s reaction to the leaping lion costume and the pounding drums.

It’s been a while since I’ve walked across the top of Potrero Hill from my mom’s house to the library. Today I rediscovered one of my favorite routes.  

The big blue water tower on 22nd Street, between Carolina and Wisconsin, is my first reference point. A good decade and a half ago, there was a crappy fence around the water tower and my teenaged self clambered up it like a monkey and I trespassed the grounds around the tower, climbed the trees, and never encountered anyone else. Now the fence is new, tiny chain link, and the tower is off-limits. Ah well, my interests have changed.

At Wisconsin and 22nd Street a long staircase cuts through the block in an easterly direction, leading to Arkansas Street and a park. I’ve always loved San Franciscan staircases that work like “secret” shortcuts between blocks. This one was a favorite since childhood, back when I regularly walked across Potrero Hill to get movies from Dr. Video, or ice cream from the Daily Scoop. I love the wide steps of the staircase, framed with sour grass and funky houses, the tall, dark trees, and the view of the San Francisco bay and Oakland hills.

At the bottom is Arkansas Street, and across the street is the park, simply named the Potrero Hill Recreation Area. There’s a trail there, running east-west. I could still see a glimpse of the bay. Uphill were tennis courts. Further east were the Potrero Hill Projects. I left the trail at Connecticut Street to get to the library, passing a community garden where people were hard at work, preparing their beds for spring planting.

So when I got to the library, I missed the lion dance, but ran into some very good friends, munched on free veggie sandwiches and a slice of cheese pizza (courtesy of Goat Hill Pizza and Klein’s Deli), listened to a funky folk band, and watched a group of kids from my high school alma mater, International Studies Academy, give their first choir performance, a hand-clapping, foot-stomping show where they even sang a Coup song.

The Potrero Hill Library used to be a bleak sort of building, single-story, post WWII construction. The bathroom was up a creepy, long, dark staircase. Now it’s two-stories, clean, well stocked with books, and full of light from floor-to-ceiling windows. And it was packed with people, a good reception. I meandered about with my baby in her sling, checking out the art hanging from the ceiling, peering out windows, inspecting the family bathroom (which I am bummed to report has NO baby-changing table, just a lipless countertop next to the sink, already sloppy and wet). One of the best physical aspects of the new library is its view of downtown from the Children’s Area where benches face the windows. I overheard a girl remark to her mom, “This is the perfect place to sit and read a book!”

Three hours later, I trekked back to my mom’s house the way I came. If I had taken regular streets, the climb would’ve been pretty intense, especially with a seventeen-pound baby in a sling and a diaper bag. The trail and staircase made the walk easy, and the baby, kicking her legs and drooling, was thoroughly entertained.  

Potrero Hill Library

1616 20th Street (near Connecticut)

415. 355.2822

www.sfpl.org

Family Storytime

For infants to 5 years old, with parents.

Thursdays at 10:30 a.m.

March 11, 18, and 25

Fratello Marionettes: “Carnival of the Animals”

Saturday, March 27

3 p.m.

All ages

Hardcore Walking Momma

I wondered if anyone read this blog, except for the folks I’ve sent it to, when I received a surprise email a couple of weeks ago from an old housemate of mine, Jeannie Leslie. We used to hike the San Francisco hills—always the hills for their vantage points—and sit on the top, often at sunset because we both worked during the day, and we'd look at the City in the purple and gold light. Seven years passed since we’d been in touch. And then she found me through Hill Babies, perhaps the best thing about this blog for me.

Now she has two children, a five-year-old boy and a three-year-old girl, plus one in the oven. She walks all over the place, choosing not to have a car. Her kids prefer hills and staircases to flat lands. “Stop at the next tree,” she tells them as they run up a hill, and they listen. Then her little girl wants to be carried, so Jeannie squats down, lifting her daughter and her four-month-old, unborn baby up the steepest part of Dolores Street. And she's able to continue a conversation, while I huff and puff with only one fat baby to contend with. 

Jeannie’s a tremendous mom, aside from being a hardcore walker, just unlike any I’ve met. She birthed her two kids at home—her man Duncan delivered the second one before the midwife arrived. She befriends the fruit sellers at the farmer’s markets, gathering bruised produce to make marmalade to spread on homemade muffins. She raises two fat chickens in her backyard of her rented flat in Noe Valley, eating eggs on Wednesday with the neighbor kids. Finally, she and Duncan homeschool their oldest child, one of the smartest and most nature-aware kids I’ve met.

Here’s to many good hikes in the City with my old friend, now a fellow mother, Jeannie Leslie! I look forward to our conversations, the lofty feeling of being on top of a hill with the City spread out below us, and seeing our children play outside.