dryft SF

4/16/2014

Time: 2:14
Distance: 3.1 miles

San Francisco is a city of endless choices, and that starts on the streets. Like most American cities, you’re confronted with a lattice grid that presents you with three new choices every 50 meters. I started this dryft from atop of Russian Hill, and before I left my apartment, I decided that the two questions I would ask myself at each intersection would be:
a) Is it downhill?
b) Is it drenched in sunlight?
If one of my three options answered “Yes” to both, I would take it, if not, I would take a over b. I figured that this system would eventually take me to the ocean, and get some much needed brown into my pasty complexion.

The driving force of dryft is to provide a sense of freedom and engagement, and you get that pretty much from the moment you put your phone back in your pocket. I immediately noticed that I was free to do one of my favourite weekend activities; eavesdropping on the conversations of Americans.

“My original plan was always to be a rockstar.”
“How’s that going for you Bob?”
“Well, I’m 63 tomorrow, and I can’t say it’s really working out. I never even learned to play the guitar.”

These wonderful tidbits of Americana continued as I wandered in squares through the Sunday bustle of Polk, Union, and Hyde. I’d be warned that I was in Yuppie central, but having spent the previous day in what I was assured was Hipsterville, the only real difference I could see was that the people here were a little older and a lot less concerned with irony. But the food was just as pretentious, the dogs just as numerous, and the pricing just as scandalous.

Fittingly, for what is now the capital of the tech industry, SF is seemingly awash with numbers:

While the water was glorious to behold once I reached it, I soon realised that it marked the end of life in San Francisco and the start of tourism. Conversations were now either in European languages or concerned only with the prices of assorted nik-naks being sold along the shore. I wanted to escape this mundane melancholia for a few more minutes and so double-backed a few streets. I was treated to a sight of something undisputedly American.

Satisfied with my dose of real-life, I allowed myself to look over the bay. It is undeniably beautiful even if it horribly popular.

It’s a shame that you can’t combine the feeling of being amongst the inhabitants of San Francisco with the city’s most picturesque views, but as I am here for only a month and so in a way a tourist myself, I thought I would join my brethren for a stroll along the water’s edge.

Having now dryfted for over an hour, I decided to make my way back. Something that I was not looking forward to, especially bearing in mind my previous policy on descending my way here. It was then that I found an unexpected benefit of being a dryfter. On several occasions I was presented with slopes that were closer to vertical than should be legally allowed. If I’d been armed with a map, I would have had no choice but to climb these mini mountains. However, with only a rudimentary arrow as my guide, I was able to take flatter options. When I returned home and reviewed my route, I had indeed taken a fairly illogical path, but I was sure I’d taken the most gentle climb possible, and besides dryfting isn’t about being logical.