This weekend I had the perverse pleasure of wielding a badass gas-powered saw to tear up the concrete that blankets the backyard of my friend Jon’s new home. Even with the diamond tipped blade it was still slow-going, hard work. We didn’t finish, but we did make some major cuts and create some sweet urbanite bricks for Jon’s front yard. Here are some pictures of the process, including a guest cameo by none other than Justin Lehrer late in the day.
(This post originally appeared in the SF Environment blog on SFgate.com/green just last week and is based on a true story.)
We’ve got great tap water here in San Francisco, but do you know where it comes from? What’s more, have you ever been there? After five years in the Bay Area, I finally had the chance to visit my tap water at its source in the Hetch Hetchy valley of the Sierra Nevada. My name is Lawrence Grodeska, and I’m the Internet Communications Coordinator at SF Environment, and this is the story of one man and his quest for connection with his water supply.
Early one Friday morning about a month ago, I left San Francisco with two friends for a weekend of backpacking. We drove due east for 4 hours and finally hit the trailhead at O’Shaughnessy Dam, the gateway to the Hetch Hetchy reservoir. At 312 feet, the dam itself does not have the impact of the Hoover Dam (726 feet!), but O’Shaughnessy’s story is the stuff of legend.
In 1913, from a proposal by then San Francisco Mayor James Phelan, and aided by lobbying efforts of national proponents of the development of natural resources, Congress passed the Raker Act. The Act granted SF “certain rights of way in, over and through certain public lands, the Yosemite National Park, and Stanislaus National Forest…and the public lands in the State of California, and for other purposes.”
Those “other purposes” boiled down to the rights to flood the Hetch Hetchy valley to create a water-and-power system for the City & County of San Francisco. Situated in a pristine canyon in the northwest of Yosemite, the steep canyon walls were ideal conditions for a reservoir. The Army Corps of Engineers built the O’Shaughnessy Dam over the span of 7 years, battling rugged terrain and harsh elements, as well as the strong protests of fabled conservationist John Muir, to complete the dam in 1923.
I had long been curious to see Hetch Hetchy, the source of the water that comes out of our San Francisco faucets so consistently and deliciously. Perhaps it was the curiously alluring name – apparently the Central Miwok word for a common edible grass in the valley. Or maybe the contentious issue of who should profit from the water system, or even the engineering feats necessary to deliver such a municipal gift across 190 miles. More than anything, however, being an urban dweller removed from the source of his sustenance, I considered a visit to my water supply a pilgrimage of sorts.
Finally stepping onto the O’Shaughnessy Dam that day, backpack and all, I could feel the collective effort that was harnessed to create this enduring tribute to humanity’s ingenuity and brash survival instincts. My three short days of exploring the upper reaches of my watershed paled in comparison to that herculean effort, but I felt proud to be getting in touch with my water, and very eager to trace that water upstream.
After our initial admiration subsided, we trekked through the dry, hot heat of late summer in the Sierra. Thanks to the Raker Act, we had to trek an extra mile! The Act established some strict criteria for the protection of San Francisco’s water supply which are followed to this day. “No person shall bathe, wash clothes or cooking utensils [in, or] any way pollute, the water within the limits of the Hetch Hetchy Reservoir…or in the streams leading thereto, within one mile of said reservoir.” Despite the impassioned pleas of park Rangers upon entering Yosemite, we met a few folks on the trail who were still incredulous about the strict nature of these provisions. Maybe they’ve never drank unfiltered San Francisco tap water, because I think that is all the justification necessary.
Camping at Las Rancheria Falls that night was quite a treat. The small meadow situated at 5000 feet elevation was a perfect spot for taking in the late summer stars so resplendent during the new moon. It may sound like a tall tale, but that weekend I saw the most spectacular shooting star I have ever seen. I even learned a few new constellations with my trusty star chart, including the king, Cepheus.
The biggest delight of all, however, was bearing witness to the hydrological cycle that brings San Franciscans their water every day. There is a foot bridge which crosses Rancheria Falls, above which swimming is finally permitted in a spectacular swimming hole, chiseled by eons of sediment flow. I lingered long at this spot, but being the intrepid explorer, I needed to push further. Bushwhacking over a ridge and dropping back into the river bed, I found a long string of smaller, serene pools and plenty of smooth, wide rocks for sun bathing.
I spent most of my Saturday lounging about the upper reaches of this tributary to the Hetch Hetchy reservoir, a welcome opportunity to divest myself from the cares and concerns of life in the city. Relaxing on the rocks, dipping in and out of the stream, letting the ripples of sound wash over me, I was gently reminded of why water has been called the “molecule of life”. The very biochemistry of life on planet Earth depends upon the unique features of the water molecule.
I’ve always felt drawn to bodies of water, from swimming holes and streams to lakes and oceans. Whatever the reasons for water’s magnetism – basic chemistry or simple soothing pull – I did have a different perspective of Hetch Hetchy as I descended back into the valley on Sunday. Taking in the whole of the reservoir, in all its splendor and conundrum, I was grateful to know a bit more about the water I depend on everyday. For all the controversy over whether the dam and reservoir should be there and who profits from it, San Franciscans could do a lot worse.
Last weekend I went backpacking up in the Hetch Hetchy Valley. Needless to day, it was a great trip – amazing weather, stunning stars, excellent company. I’m actually working on another blog post for work about visiting the source of our water supply here in San Francisco, so I’m going to keep this post short. For now, enjoy the photos I’ve uploaded from the trip.
It’s an eternal mystery: why are there never any forks in the kitchen at work? And where do they go? Kind of like socks at home, forks at work seem to disappear into thin air. Just today, in a moment of proactive inspiration, I decided to do something about this pressing issue and sent the following email to my co-workers.
Hello All,
As you may know, SF Environment has been experiencing a devastating resource shortage right here in our Grove Street office. Yes, I am talking about the strange and sad disappearance of any and all forks that wander into the abyss of our office kitchens.
To fight this creeping threat to lunches everywhere, I’ve created the SFE “Fork Fund” which can be found atop the microwave in the 3rd floor kitchen. Recently, the School Ed program took bold and drastic action to stem the tide of fork depletion by importing forks raised in captivity by Goodwill Industries. However, this will only stem the tide for so long. Help reimburse School Ed, and start building capacity for our next utensil crisis, by contributing to the Fork Fund today.
Next time you’re on the third floor, drop some coins to save the forks. Your lunch — and your stomach — will thank you.
This message brought to you by SFE Staffers for Fork Preservation. Any funds collected will be used directly for the purchase of more forks, and maybe a few spoons.
Only time will tell if this ploy will work. Wish us luck, dear reader.
Hello. I’ve been trying to post a bit more frequently, and I’m working on a few things. However, for the time being, here’s something I’ve been wanting to share for a while. This tune has been up on our MySpace page for a few months now, but you probably didn’t know that. So here it is, the newest finished track from The Real Numbers, entitled “Ugly Face” (music by Dave Ambrose and words by Andy Freeman):
Expect more soon!
Today I fulfilled a decade-long dream of making my own sauerkraut. Maybe that doesn’t sound like the stuff dreams are made of, but it’s true — I’ve been talking about making sauerkraut for years now. The funny thing is, I can’t quite explain why. I mean, I like sauerkraut, but I don’t love it. I don’t buy it all that much. In fact, there is a half-eaten jar in my fridge that probably moved with me from my last residence. Maybe it’s my German-Polish heritage. Or maybe my body knows it’s good for me. Or perhaps I just need another project for all of my free time.
Whatever it is that lies beneath my kraut-making obsession was sated today, and I had a great time in the process. The occasion was a workshop taught by Kathryn Lukas of Farmhouse Culture who is working on creating a California sauerkraut tradition with her delicious local products. Think smoked jalapeno kraut and you’ll get the picture. Kathryn was a great teacher and, I must say, makes a mean kraut. I also have to thank my co-worker Mei Ling for taking me along — you made my fermented dreams come true! Check out some more photos here.
I did it. I finally upgraded to the Intel chipset. In plain English, that means I just bought a MacBook Pro. The package arrived this morning, and I fired her up tonight:
She’s a thing of beauty, and I’m composing this post with her right now. I had been holding out, trying to squeeze the most life I could out of my PowerBook. She’s still working well enough, but two things in concert forced my hand: 1) the prices of MacBooks dropped considerably with the latest models, and 2) Apple announced their upgrade to OSX, Snow Leopard, would not be available for PowerPC machines like my PowerBook. And so, the decision was made.
I have to say, I’m already pleased as punch. I’ve still got a lot of work to do to clean up my old files and applications before I migrate — I mean, I don’t have to, but I want to — so I’m not in the clear yet. I can tell I am going to love this machine, though, and for good reason. I downgraded from a 15″ screen to 13″, which means lighter and more portable for travel. This laptop is a refurb which means reusing a damaged electronic device that was returned and fixed up by Apple, with full warranty and some nice cost savings. Snow Leopard already seems to be a vast performance improvement over Leopard. And, of course, there are all the little things that Apple does so well, all the improvements like the magnetic power cable plug or the fancy battery life indicator or the totally slick multi-touch trackpad. What’s not to love?
My old machine served me well, and I will miss her. She was, after all, my first laptop. However, since she is in good shape, and people seem to still be buying that model of Powerbook on eBay, I think she will go to a good home instead of the e-waste facility, which makes me happy. Almost as happy as being the proud owner of a new MacBook Pro.
I mean, I love Michael Jackson and all, but this is absurd. The following email was sent to all City & County of San Francisco employees this morning. For the record, I gotta say that I had absolutely no interest in watching the MJ memorial today, but apparently plenty of others did…
Colleagues:
I have been advised by DT that due to the large number of City employees watching the Michael Jackson services on their work computers, our internet capacity has reached the saturation point. Please immediately remind all employees that City computers are to be used for City business only. Not only does such activity violate City policies, it interferes with employees’ ability to do the work for which they are compensated, and interferes with our ability to access the network for the conduct of legitimate City business. Prohibitions against improper use of City resources, including computers, are included in both the departmental Statements of Incompatible Activities and the CCSF Employee Handbook. Violations may lead to discipline.
Than you in advance for your cooperation.
Micki Callahan
Human Resources Director
City and County of San Francisco
Well, my new band has a myspace page, so it looks like we are finally legit. Funny how that works. The proof is in the pudding, as they say:
http://www.myspace.com/therealrealnumbers
This project started over a year ago when my good friend (and bassist) Evan asked if I wanted to maybe sing in a band with him and another guitar player. While that lineup didn’t quite work out, it did kick start the creative juices and get me writing some tunes for the first time in many years. After a draining search to fill out the lineup, we found one Dave Ambrose, a guitar slingin’, road-hardened music geek if there ever was one. I don’t know what Dave heard in the crappy Garage Band demos that Evan and I posted, but he kept showing up every week and helping us craft my musical seeds into a semblance of proper songs. In due time, and many drummers, Andy Freeman descended upon our practice space and ripped the sh*t out of those fledgling tunes. It was pretty clear that Andy’s innate musicality and producer’s ear were too good to be true. And so, by November of last year the lineup was complete, The Real Numbers were born, and work began on filling out the set.
All told, this band has already exceeded any expectations I had when Evan and I set out to make music in early 2008. I’m delighted and humbled that such talented musicians are interested playing my tunes and have been so supportive. It has been a truly collaborative effort, with each member brining their own contributions to the table, be it songs, lyrics, arrangement ideas, etc. As a songwriter, this has been immensely rewarding. As a novice guitar player, it has been an amazing opportunity to build some chops and venture forth into electric arena.
And so, The Real Numbers are officially out and about in the world. Enjoy what we’ve got posted, and come out to hear us sometime, because the best is yet to come. Your next chance is May 14th at the Connecticut Yankee here in San Francisco. Until then, rock on.
(This post originally appeared in the SF Environment blog on SFgate.com/green a few weeks back. You may recognize some of it from a previous post, but, hey, who ever said repurposing was a bad thing?)
We’re friends, right? So I’m just going to admit it, right here. My name is Lawrence Grodeska, I’m the Internet Communications Coordinator at SF Environment, and I’m addicted to public transportation. I ride transit indiscriminately – BART, MUNI, AC Transit, CalTrain, Bay Bridge bike shuttle, you name it. And that’s not all. I can’t stop riding my bicycle. I have two and I’m dreaming of a third. You know what else? I don’t know if I should share this, but here goes – I walk all over the place. Just me and my two legs, strolling around town, back and forth, to and fro. So, why am I telling you all of this? Well, you see, I don’t own a car. Some might say this is actually my real problem, but I disagree. The car-free life is the good life.
Full disclosure: I’ve had my fair share of cars. Back in high school, my first car was a Ford hatchback, affectionately named the “Bitchin’ Escort” and lovingly detailed with many a sticker. My second car was more austere and could carry more gear – “Semi,” my somewhat futuristic Chevy Cavalier wagon. My third and last car was the first and only car I have ever truly loved – “Philly,” a 1985 Mercedes 300TD diesel beauty that guzzled vegetable oil. A tank-wagon with the pickup of a slug and the highway momentum of a cruiseship. I knew I loved that car the day I first parked in the driveway and vacuumed the interior, lovingly washed and buffed the exterior. Rarely have I felt so much pride in an inanimate object and never have I felt so much an American.
The first cracks in my automotive armor arose sometime during my second year of college when I was introduced to the concept of habitat fragmentation. Our network of highways, byways, and rural routes has so interrupted the normal lifecycle patterns of many species of fish, birds, and animals that population levels have decreased dramatically. The argument against cars was framed for me once again when I came across a study comparing the energetic efficiency of walking to driving a car, an exercise in “true cost accounting“. Given the cost in time, money, and energy required to power a vehicle, the study found that it was actually quicker to walk between points A and B than to drive. Specifics aside, I needed little convincing from that point on. I graduated with a B.S. in Biology and a strong desire to ditch my car.
That opportunity finally arose when I landed in San Francisco a few years back. As the dust on my windshield began piling up along with too many parking tickets, I knew that this was the time to embark on my carless existence. Charting out this new territory was fascinating – I encountered my own stages of automotive withdrawal. My first reaction to carlessness was elation. It has been said before by wiser persons that more possessions make for less time and less happiness. I consider automobiles the extreme embodiment of this idea. By letting go of the financial and psychological burdens associated with cars, fresh mental vistas opened up beyond the chattels of my prior car concerns. To this day I am thankful for one less constellation of stress in my life.
My second major reaction to carlessness was indignation. By virtue of more foot, pedal, and transit time, I grew increasingly aware of and shocked by the extent to which cars have dictated the physical structure of our society. Everything from the urban grid to the layout of property lots and shapes of buildings has catered to the overwhelming presence of autos. Moreover, I was offended to recognize just how much cars dictated my daily routine: walking home from BART, forced to navigate corners of 90 degrees after 90 degrees. Waiting in quiet frustration until the cross walk without a traffic light was clear of vehicles. Jumping away from cars screeching to halt to observe stop signs. These all took their toll.
When I started driving again, be it borrowing a friend’s car or a renting a ZipCar, the third stage of my automotive withdrawal set in. Quickly I realized how much I loathed the actual act of driving. The rushing to and fro. The frenetic conditions. The uncertainty about other drivers. I was able to see with great clarity how much anger and tension driving a motor vehicle created in my life. Consequently, I now question if driving is truly a “luxury.” Do the benefits of driving really outweigh the impact on our mental health? These days I am happy to let others occupy my former space on the roads while I try to cultivate a little more calm, a lot more compassion, and a few extra smiles from my fellow bikers, pedestrians, and transit riders.
Thankfully, San Francisco has myriad transit options for those of us ready to let go of our cars and experience the concomitant joy. With the right planning, the impressive regional network of rails, buses and ferries can get you to most places in the Bay Area, no problem. 511.org is your one-stop shop for all things transit – maps, trip planners, etc. Heck, even Google is getting into the game with their new Google Maps Transit Planner. Don’t forget to check NextMuni.com to find out exactly when your next transit chariot will arrive. San Francisco has mandated that companies that employ over 20 workers must have a commuter benefits plan, a great way to get to work with less stress and less strain on your bank account.
Lots of folks in our fair city are working very hard to provide the best public transportation system they can deliver, so take advantage of it. Transit is one of the great benefits of urban living. And who knows? You just might get addicted.
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