Wednesday 15th September
I drove 0 miles today for the first time in weeks. The hostel is in the grounds of Fort Mason and it's easily walkable to Fisherman's Wharf from where the ferry to Alcatraz departs. On the way I stopped to do some gift shopping at a couple of the many touristy gift shops.
At pier 41 I bought a ticket and waited for my ferry. The trip across to the island took about ten minutes once the ferry was loaded. On arrival there was a brief introduction. The speaker asked various nationalities to raose their hands and the British were by far the largest group. This is consistent with the high incidence of British accents I've been hearing while in San Francisco.
I climbed the hill to the cell block, stopping occasionally to take arty photographs of the decaying cocrete buildings I passed along the way. Despite the huge numbers of tourists there was a feeling of grimness and desolation about the place; it wasn't hard to imagine life as an inmate here.
Inside the cell house I took the audio tour. This was very worthwhile, detailing life inside the prison. There were plenty of opportunities to step inside cells and look out between the bars, but unfortunatly we were kept at ground level, able only to gaze up at the upper cells and gun gallery. The utility corridor up which the three escapees -- later the subjects of the movie Escape From Alcatraz -- climbed was visible through a sheet of perspex. Although these three escaped into the water they have not been seen since. It is unknown whether they surived the swim to land.
Another event related on the tour was the Battle of Alcatraz. One man managed to scale the railings of the gun gallery at the end of the cell building unnoticed and spread the bars open with a threaded device. He took the guard by surprise and captured his guns. But he couldn't open the door to get out and were trapped inside. He and his accomplices took some guards hostage, shooting many, but after a siege of a few days were killed.
I had a look around the recreation yard, a bleak place with strong wind from the bay, and then walked back down the hill. On the way I stopped to look at some museum exhibits about the work some prisoners were put to, and a movie about the history of the Island. Then I got back on the return ferry.
I explored further around Fisherman's Wharf. It's all very touristy. Pier 39 was interesting. There is a colony (pride?) of sea-lions there that occupied some walkways after the 1989 earthquake. Now they live there all year round on about 50 wooden pontoons. As I watched about half of the pontoons were occupied and on many a struggle for dominance was going on. The stronger males would repeatedly evict competitors by shoving them with their chests. I saw one sea-lion attempt to invade a pontoon five or six times. Occasionally the defender would be ousted and replaced. Presumably they were fighting over the females who basked in the sun, oblivious to all the drama, except when they were caught in the cross-fire and accidentally punted into the water. It was thoroughly entertaining stuff.
The rest of Pier 39 is a kind of shopping arcade with unusual shops and restaurants boasting views of the bay. I discovered a poster explaining that the pier was the first private construction on the wharf. No-one thought the owner would be able to get the 16 permits required to build it especially after the likes of Rockefeller failed in similar schemes. Perhaps he had the right friends in the right places, such are the whims of government planning committees.
I tried to take the tour of a WWII submarine, but they close early on Wednesdays and I arrived just too late. Instead I grabbed some food, strolled around some more and returned to the hostel.