After having a late sushi dinner in which the arrangement of the fish in the chirashi eerily resembled Chthulu, my co-adventurer and I found our way into the post-midnight mists of the former military base at the northwest corner of San Francisco, seeking adventure. We started under the Golden Gate Bridge and made our way out into the darkness, wandering our way through old World War II gun turrets, searching for the narrow, steep path to the beach. We stood at the edge of a precipice, doused by the sounds of crashing waves but enshrouded in so much mist that we could see only grayish nothingness below. After playing with long exposures and light, we descended to the beach. The only occasionally visible bridge beckoned in the distance, and we made our way back towards it, stopping occasionally to dare the waves to hit us. By then it was close to 2am, and a few miles away, a city of hundreds of thousands was finishing up its partying and starting to hail cabs home. We were completely in solitude, as if we had traveled hours to some far-off place.


The Golden Gate Bridge... beautiful Art Deco icon, overphotographed into
near-banality by tourists and professionals alike. It's still awesome.


Full set on Flickr