Beauty on the Bay

By Lisa Bendall

San Francisco is a world-class city with appealing activities, friendly people and an inspiring waterfront Toronto could learn from. After my husband and I attended a conference in nearby Oakland, we took a few extra days off to explore this attractive city.

For us, no matter where we go, travel far from home is always an adventure. My husband uses a power wheelchair. Small things – like cobblestones, curbs and steps – can spell the difference between enjoyment and frustration on our travels. Advance planning is essential.

But when we chose San Francisco as a destination, some of the usual pressure to prepare was eased. San Francisco is within elbow-nudging distance of Berkeley, the birth centre of the disability movement in North America. And, with strong legislation compelling all American businesses and services to be accessible to people with disabilities, we had reason to believe this trip would be smoother than most.

Indeed, it was virtually hassle-free. San Francisco proved spectacular.

We arrived in May, one of the most pleasant times of the year for this city. Winters are rainy and summer brings a clammy fog over the bay area. On this day it was crystal clear and mildly windy. The wares of street vendors glinted in the sun as we erupted into the afternoon from the wheelchair-accessible subway system. A young man, shirtless and smooth-chested in the sunshine, tap-danced on a corner, and the crowd cheered when a toddler ran over to dance with him.

We wandered for a couple of blocks, trailing our luggage and taking in the city. We found our hotel: the Ramada at Union Square, a quaint, narrow, almost claustrophobic lodging (they call it “boutique” style) originally known as the Mark Twain Hotel. The man himself gazed down at us appraisingly from the walls of our room, which was on the top floor, as far from the elevator as one could get. Not a comforting thought in the event of an emergency, but it was quiet, and the room had the accommodations we need. The elevator itself was rickety and tiny and meant that my husband’s wheelchair and all of our luggage had to take turns.

Our first quest would be the world-famous Golden Gate Bridge. Not all the city’s buses are wheelchair accessible, but a good many are, and we were soon enjoying a ride across the city. We glanced up hilly side streets as we passed; some appeared to ascend straight upward in the distance. We passed the University of San Francisco. Its flowery campus was bedecked in colour and it, too, rose almost vertically, like a grand rock garden.

The two main cables of the Golden Gate Bridge are three feet in diameter and contain 129,000 km of wire. When the ambitious project was completed in 1937, its chief engineer, Joseph P. Strauss, actually penned a 42-line ode entitled “The Mighty Task is Done.”

The higher you go in San Francisco the windier it is, so the breeze picked up atop the bridge. We travelled the bridge to its halfway point – there wasn’t time to explore the Marin Headlands on the opposite side, so we headed back to shore.

The next morning we headed for Pier 39, at the Fisherman’s Wharf. This attraction offers arcades, a carousel, a turbo ride, street performers and a squabble of perhaps 700 sea lions that pester tourists like pigeons. To get there, we actually took a vintage streetcar, using a platform lift at the streetcar stop. It was a quintessential Kodak moment: My husband hadn’t been on a streetcar in almost 30 years. On board, he couldn’t stop grinning.

The Aquarium of the Bay, at Pier 39, boasts an “Under the Bay” area with clear tunnels surrounded by local marine life. Out in the real bay, it would be too dark to see anything. But these large aquarium tunnels, stocked with indigenous fish, create a fascinating illusion. Starfish dotted the sides of the tunnels, and sharks and bat rays soared overhead. We glimpsed a nocturnal, clay-red octopus curled grumpily into a crevice. A huge wolf eel swam alongside me for a few feet. Upstairs, a sort of marine petting zoo gave us an opportunity to touch the spiny backs of starfish and stroke the sleek neck of a shark.

We spent some time walking along the piers, where fresh crab is sold – and eaten – at small, cramped market stands. Further along was the Cannery, once the world’s largest peach-canning facility and now transformed into a shopper’s dream. Boutiques sell gourmet foods (of course, we felt obliged to sample a locally produced Ghirardelli chocolate truffle or two), international musical instruments (we played a steel drum, tried out exotic bird whistles and eventually bought a harmonica for our daughter), jewellery and porcelain.

Then it was on to another wheelchair-accessible bus, this time to make the steep climb up to one of the city’s most scenic points. It was with much creaking and groaning – and a certain amount of doubt the bus would make it – that we arrived atop Telegraph Hill, where the 210-foot Coit Tower stands, built in 1933 by a philanthropist as a memorial to San Francisco’s firefighters. It seemed even more meaningful post-September 11. Here the wind was so bold that I clutched my jacket hood around my face. But it was worth it – the views of the city and bay were stunning.

That evening we celebrated our wedding anniversary, which had come and gone without fanfare during the conference a few days earlier. We savoured a delectable dinner at the landmark Franciscan Restaurant overlooking San Francisco Bay. Although it was on the second floor, an outdoor elevator brought us level, and a ramp allowed us to access a prime table at the window. We dined, of course, on seafood.

Alcatraz Island was a must-see. We had an afternoon to tour this former prison before leaving. The ferry was wheelchair accessible, and upon our arrival at the steep, rocky island, a motorized shuttle cart carried us, and a handful of seniors, up the quarter-mile, 12-per-cent-grade trail. Inside the cell house, we rented a recorded tour, gaining some insight into the harsh prison life through the voiced memories of former inmates and correctional officers. Although Alcatraz is only a mile and a quarter from shore and appears alarmingly close when one is on the city side, the cold bay’s waters are so forbidding that the island might as well be in the distant Pacific. It was virtually impossible to escape. Only one man was ever known to survive a swim to shore – and he was so exhausted that he was easily recaptured under the Golden Gate Bridge.

When we left the next day, we felt satisfied that we had experienced a good sampling of San Francisco sights and sounds. Although there remained a number of attractions we were unable to tick off our to-do list – like the Museum of Modern Art, Angel Island and Presidio Heights – it only compels us to come back one day. When we do return, we’ll have the added reassurance of knowing that wheelchair access in San Francisco is practically seamless.

(Lisa Bendall is the Managing Editor of ABILITIES.)