It was getting late…like supremely late. I just finished dinner in Sausalito with my good friend Joe, when I laid it on him that I had no place to camp out for the night. I kind of sheepishly asked to crash on his couch, but from the second that the words left my mouth I knew the plan didn’t have legs. I quickly reeled them back and made a half truthful gesture that I’d just head back toward the coast. I’d be ok. That something would come along just in time like always does. You should know that Joe is a complete gentleman and that wasn’t ever going to fly. A man of great mystery and endless connections, he said “ I’ve got it, do you trust me?”
I followed him. Not that I really had another plan or choice in the matter. Where else was I going to sleep in the middle of a huge city? After twenty minutes of on-ramps, toll bridges, and narrow city streets, we approached a dimly lit side access road under a bridge that seemed to wind off into nothing. Towering fences lined with barbed wire and spooky buildings dripping into the bay, I crept along close to his tail lights. I was positive that we were heading straight into a horror film. In fifteen minutes more we stopped. One massive locked gate decorated with more barbed wire and a single floodlight towered over our cars.
After a few swift taps on the key pad, Joe granted us entry. Beyond the gate, a restored out building gave way to a fridge stocked with brews, wood for a fire, and city lights: San Francisco laid out in front of us like a post card. Awestruck and coming down from the high, I was exhausted and wanted to settle in for the night. He pointed out a path up a gravel road that switched back and forth several times.
Joe led us further into the darkness where we shared a few more stories and cold ones before he bid me goodnight. Alone in this strange place, I did my best to settle my fear and soothed myself to sleep.
To my great surprise, I awoke unscathed and unbothered. Wild turkeys and distant harbor rustlings welcomed me to Terminal 4, a weathered shipyard, urban sanctuary, and strange dream bathed in the most delicious light.
Beyond the city, I turned back toward the coast and reconnected with the Pacific Coast Highway. She led me south-bound through the local surf scene at the Outer Sunset District and onto Pigeon Point for the night.
