Erik's Rants and Recipes: Isla de los Altcatraces

May 16, 2007

Isla de los Altcatraces

It is just one of those things.

Just as New Yorkers don't go to the Statue of Liberty, Bay Area folks don't go to Alcatraz. Strictly for tourists, along with the restaurants at the wharf, waiting in long lines to drive down Lombard Street (locals do it in the middle of the night during the winter, when it can actually be a shortcut to North Beach), or eating anything out of a bowl fashioned from a loaf of sourdough bread.

But that is where out of town relatives come in. Just as every New Yorker, when pressed hard enough, will admit that, "well, there was once, when we had family in from Iowa," you will get a quiet, "a few years ago we had some guests from Tennessee..."

Well, yesterday we had family in from North Carolina.

Now, this was not my first time. I had gone on the obligatory childhood trip to Alcatraz many years ago. Growing up in Sacramento made that OK. And I have sailed around Alcatraz, I have passed it on the way to Angel Island (which is very much frequented by locals), and I see it, if not daily, then close to daily. Neither Melanie nor Amalia had ever been, though.

A trip to Alcatraz begins on a boat, which leaves from Pier 33 in San Francisco. Even if you are not going to Alcatraz, at some point in your life, you should take a boat offshore from San Francisco, as it offers some interesting views of the city:

After a short and pleasant voyage you approach "The Rock," as locals are supposed to call it. We don't, but it's what we tell tourists. You see, it is good to know that you are dealing with a tourist (as if the under-dressing, hastily covered by a last minute purchase of a fleece jacket that says SF on it isn't a dead enough give-away).

You can be forgiven, as you walk up, if you think that you are somehow on some Mediterranean fishing village on an island.

"Ah yes, up ahead is the stone millhouse where the village has made its olive oil for centuries."

Ruins and a shimmering blue sea heighten the effect:

A blooming century plant lends the aura of subtropical balminess (and too many photos like this are responsible for the miserably cold tourists you see every summer):

I mean, c'mon! This could be Portugal:

Wildflowers, cypress trees, pleasant pedestrian paths...

Allright. Fun's over. Strip. Shower. Into your blues. If you break the rules, you go to prison. If you break the rules of the prison, you go to Alcatraz...

From 1934 to 1963 Alcatraz was the hardest, most severe outpost of the Federal Prison system. Al Capone, Machine Gun Kelly, Creepy Karpis, Birdman Stroud, are just a few of the names that became numbers in this wind-swept penitentiary.

The shimmering blue of the sea, which looked so inviting on the lee side of the island, where the officers lived, takes on a stark and even brutal character when framed by razor wire and the cement walls around the recreation yard:

The Golden Gate Bridge bekons, "come on Tantalus, reach...for...it..."

But, for an inmate, this was the more usual view:

Sometimes the prisoners could hear the music and voices from fetes at the yacht clubs accross the way. Especially on New Years Eve...

Well, I hope you enjoyed your tour. Be sure to visit the many fine shops and restaurants of San Francisco before you return home! Thank you and come again!

Posted by erik at May 16, 2007 10:13 AM

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