Chapter Four. Psycho-oceanography

Exultation wells up approaching the Bay Bridge

Uncovering the uncanny in the quotidian, your Flaneur concludes with a recapitulation. Another circular chapter in the narrative of a single day.

January had been dry and mild, and I made two crossings at the beginning of the year. 31 January 2014 seemed like it may have been the last of the exceptionally warm days. But I missed my shot and since weekend Ferry service is suspended in January and February, my next chance came on 4 February.

It was still quite mild but the weather was changing. A chilly snap happened the next day. This day was somewhat cold in mid-Bay yet overall it was a day with a warm center to it. The transitional weather came with vast cloudscapes, sweeping and poignant.

I pulled in to my usual dockside haunts

It's sort of a kookie California scene, but that's what we dig

Very high tide, the oceans begins to overwhelm

the water was so cold the bones of my feet momentarily petrified

It felt like riding a motorcycle across the Golden Gate bridge

while wearing sandals

After a stout ale and some MK Ultra herbal medicine

 I was feeling a little anchorless as I sauntered over to the Pier

There I discovered a mirror on the past

It seems that long ago these guys showed up

Not long after that these cats were gone from the picture

High Tide and green grass, the clock says it's time to depart

(The green trees and elevation are Fort Mason, 

next comes Aquatic Park with the Maritime Museum,

behind it is the commercial Ghiradelli Square,

lastly the high-rise eyesore memorializes the City's political machine.)

Now as then, the beaky ladies of the Wharf look on

They are as sharp as gulls and they miss nothing

"with me ragged old bag on me shoulder"

The Bay awaits the traveller

Nothing remains but the souvenirs

Back under the portentous bridge

next week they are changing its name to honor Willie Mays

Just before the atomic sunset

looking back, leaning toward sleep,  

the afternoon a half-remembered dream

4 February 2014

Chapter Three. The Fragmentary Past

The Flaneur returns once again to 4 February to the San Francisco bay and it's environs--
wintry, watery and weird.

Maritime historiography

My Aquatic Park hang spot

The Balclutha

Sign and symbol

Hercules was the name of a town where I first lived in California.

It's in Contra Costa county visible to the extreme right in this photo

Hyde Street Pier

A free-wheelin' waterfront town

(note the polar bear swimming past)

Play, "Nearer, My God, to Thee"

Black junk to convey you to Alcatraz Island

A city made of wood

Oneiric clouds over Mount Tamalpais

Somnolence among the sea lions

Time for this one to sail home

4 February 2014

Chapter Two. Davy Jones' Locker

By faint popular demand, the Flaneur herewith adds a few additional scenes from his 4 February Bay crossing. A true Baudelarian flaneur, he is very fond of ports where some appear to care whether or not they accept an invitation to a voyage; and he is a lover of clouds.

 The exit ramp to Davy Jones' place.

 You sit for uncounted years looking at the Golden Gate

 through the veil of a lace curtain

 Fortunately I had worn the right gear

 Ha ha, how stupid they look

 Looking back at Marin, the North country

A golden road leads ever on 

Last night I watched The Poseidon Adventure,

tonight I'll read a chapter of London's The Sea Wolf

before the sensation of waves billows me out to deepest sleep

Did you know that David Bowie's given name is Davy Jones?
Here he is singing "The Bewlay Brothers" from his LP Hunky Dory

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8a82arE0JSQ

4 February 2014

Remains in the sand

Davy Jones' Locker, also Davy Jones's Locker, is an idiom for the bottom of the sea: the state of death among drowned sailors and shipwrecks.^[2] It is used as a euphemism for drowning or shipwrecks in which the sailor(s)'s and/or ship(s)'s remains are consigned to the bottom of the sea (to be sent to Davy Jones' Locker).^[3]
The origins of the name of Davy Jones, the sailor's devil,^[2] are unclear, with a 19th-century dictionary tracing Davy Jones to a "ghost of Jonah".^[4] Other explanations of this nautical superstition have been put forth, including an incompetent sailor or a pub owner who kidnapped sailors.

The Secret of the Sea Part One, Chapter One. February Crossing.

Given the chance and the choice, your Flaneur will spend his day on the San Francisco Bay. As intermezzo, an afternoon's picnic on the beach drinking Old Viscosity stout with sardines, I sang Donovan songs and stood for a moment in the icy Bay waters just shy of the gate.

 Wrap-around simulacrum

My mind is on the sky

Approaching the Port of Oakland

 looking back at San Francisco and the bridges

4 February 2014