Ferry ride

Thursday, 11 June 2026

On Thursday, June 11, I took the 8 a.m. ferry from Sausalito (where I had spent that night) to San Francisco.

It was an incredible ride, and certainly the best commute a man could ask for on this planet.

I loved the decisive, but not overwhelming breeze, and tiny drops of water traveling with it. It made me feel alive and present in that moment.

The gentle mist, ever-present over the northern Bay Area, grew thicker and thicker as we sailed. The East Bay was barely visible through it, but what I could see was bathed in warm morning light.

I turned my head the other way, and saw the Golden Gate Bridge. Marveling at its beauty will never get old for me.

Then there were the birds, flying high over the ferry, and low over the cold waters. I imagined what it would feel like to be one of them: completely free, unburdened by the economy, inequality, and taxes. Adhering to the brutal rules of Mother Nature that humans try to escape so desperately.

Another squadron of seagulls passed over the ferry. The sounds of the morning city became louder and louder, and when we docked, my little venture into this paradise-state-of-mine ended abruptly.