Last weekend, we squeezed in a mini break to San Francisco. It was long due, since July probably, and our friends down there wouldn't take another excuse. Now howsoever ardent a mountain lover one might be, who could resist the temptation of California? More so when it is the exciting Bay Area. Not me!
Also, since we have lived there once before in the course of our nomadic sojourns, the place evokes some very warm memories. Therefore I just wanted to go, for the sake of a closure may be.
But the most seducing of all the factors was a visit to the Golden Gate Bridge. This was my third visit to this spectacular and probably most photographed bridge, yet I have come back unquenchable again. There is something about the geographical juxtaposition of the bridge that makes it so unique and impressive. I often imagine it as a giant, mythical red bird emerging out of the blue waters. And each time I have been there, the bird has fanned out its wings and made more room for itself in my heart.
The Golden Gate Bridge spreadeagled across the Pacific... the San Francisco downtown rests on the watchful cradle of the bridge... the throbbing pulse of the Bay Area traffic runs on the bridge... walking by its towering presence... the evening sets in and so does the legendary fog... the flaming orange doused by the dense, mysterious fog... frenzied seagulls follow us around the ferry... a cargo ship crosses under the bridge... my mind rushes to plunders of the Caribbean and the whimsical Jack Sparrow... the fog, the gulls and the ship with the majestic Golden Gate in the backdrop paint an unforgettable picture of drama and timelessness... the prized moment when nature and man conspire together to create something so breathtaking... night creeps in and the walkway on the bridge beckons... the thrill of the crisp ocean air and the scant traffic... one look up at the climb and drop of the mammoth railings... some golden memories relived, some more spun... a golden day indeed.