musings

Turned out that the family in the Dormobile next to our tent were English - the guy was from Birmingham, his wife from Ireland. They had been here for nine years, mostly in Canada. Had a long chat with him - it was good to hear an English accent once more. Told us of his experiences with GPs. He once gashed his right hand and his wife drove him to the doctors. She fainted on the surgery floor as her husband, holding his bleeding hand in the air, wrote a cheque for the medical bill with his left hand before the doctor would attend to it. He knew of people who would be paying bills off for the rest of their lives despite insurance. Stories like that makes you realise how good the NHS really is.

After packing away the tent we sped off up the coast road to San Francisco. Actually, sped is not really the right word - the coast road was slow, winding and hilly. We got on the faster Route 101 eventually and that took us directly to San Francisco. Trouble was, when we arrived, a thick cloud of fog was rolling in from the Pacific and enshrouding the hills and valleys of the city. We drove over the Golden Gate Bridge without seeing a thing. Drove through, not seeing much of the town itself for the fog.

Found a campsite about 40 miles from San Francisco and pitched the tent. Next task was to find something to eat in the nearby town. Had a teenburger at the A&W and then returned to the campsite for a game of pool and wrote a few more letters.

This entry was posted on Saturday, August 28th, 1976 at 10:41 am and is filed under travel. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.