Not only are some San Francisco streets pucker-time narrow, especially in a full-size pickup truck, the roller coaster angles add to a sense of adventure.

Nikki, Nate and Bennett live on the 17th steepest street in the city, in an enclave named Noe (“no-ee”) Valley.

As our truck glides into their driveway, the change in angle between the street and horizontal apron causes our poor truck to twist on its suspension.

The view from inside is more radical.  Unloading is easy… just open the downhill door and let everything roll out.

We do all this, of course, so Stella can be amused from her viewing angle above.

Since our arrival there has been a LOT of wind.

I love wind.  I love sailing.  I love windsurfing.  I love soaring in a hang glider or sailplane.  I love flying kites.  I love playing with the wind.

But I especially love leaning into the wind, being supported by an invisible force, the wind pressing against my angled body, almost able to take flight and join the birds.  (I’m not sure how much birds love soaring, but it did seem a couple were trying to line up and drop poop on me!)

At nearby Pacifica, the holiday decorations were angling to leave California and be blown to Mexico.

Trees nearby have taken on an angular, aerodynamic shape from the prevailing ocean breezes.

The high wind whips up sea foam and sprays it along the shore.

At Pacifica, swell conspires to wear away the pilings, while sensible birds pack into a wind shadow next to the boardwalk.

All the while, the strong Pacific swell is doing its best to wear down the shoreline near our RV park.  We are really hoping our site remains horizontal and not suddenly vertical.


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