On my second day in the city, I saw exactly what I’d dreamed of when I pictured going to San Francisco all of those years ago: the San Francisco Bay covered in glittery fog and the Golden Gate Bridge disappearing into the clouds.

I’d never been to the West Coast before– I’d only ever gone up and down the East Coast. Standing on the opposite edge of the continent, I wanted to go to the beach. 

After walking the length of the bridge, I decided to hang a left at the beach.

At first, I walked down the path into a wooded hillside towards the water and then decided not to in case I encountered a bear along the way. (It is on their state flag after all).

Having told no one where I was going that day, I decided that maybe it was best not to walk down a mountainside alone and instead made it to Marshall’s Beach by taking the road.

I’d packed a swimsuit for my trip without any plans to get anywhere near the freezing cold water in the Pacific Ocean. Since I decided to go to the beach spontaneously, I didn’t have it on me. Instead, I climbed over the rocks and walked barefoot along the shoreline, discovering for myself that the water was in fact numbingly-cold. 

Watching the waves crash, I started to get FOMO and wished I had my bathing suit, despite how cold it was. I turned a corner and realized that this was not the type of beach for which you needed a bathing suit. 

When Google searching beaches with which to best glimpse the Golden Gate Bridge, none of the websites mentioned that Marshall’s Beach was a clothing-optional beach with a large gay scene. 

And I’m not mad about it. I always love a good trip to the beach. 

So did I partake in the nude beach experience? Did I adopt a when-in-Rome attitude and plunge naked into the Pacific Ocean? Did I emerge from the water naked with my long, wavy hair blowing in the breeze behind me like a Botticeli painting? 

Maybe.

I can tell you that I came out of the excursion with a sunburnt nose and my bad knee even worse than before, having witnessed a few eye-opening things taking place on the sand, but I loved it. A day at the beach is still a day at the beach.

Following that, I ate bao at a chinese restaurant called Bao, which more than lived up to its name, and got a drink at The Buddha Lounge in Chinatown. I 10/10 recommend both.

Day two was down with another adventurous San Francisco day in the books. I was ready to limp around San Francisco for another adventure on my third day in the city.

The Tragic Queen,

Raquel

P.S.: Check out my previous blog post on what my first day in San Francisco was like.