Saturday p.m.

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I decided against visiting San Francisco and headed instead out into the hills east of San Jose to Mount Hamilton to visit the Lick Observatory. Despite being unprepared for the obvious after-effects I drive, top-down, all the way. As soon as you starting climbing from the valley floor you leave the urban sprawl behind and start up a distinctly long and winding road which climbs over one mountain ridge and down into the valley before climbing an even taller ridge to Mount Hamilton, 4200-odd feet high. The one thing that is apparent is that there are a lot of mad people here, I rarely went a minute without passing a cyclist going one way or the other. The things some people do for fun !

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The trip back down (and up, and down) is taken at a slightly brisker pace having noted nothing too scary on the way to the observatory. On stopping at the first proper intersection back in civilisation to pick up some after-sun I note the distinctive smell of burnt brake-pads. Well at least I don’t have to pay for them :-)

Saturday evening I decide to wander to the local establishment that resembles a pub (that doesn’t also claim ginyouine oirish descent) and sup a few Sam Adams. Kept being amused by the presence of a particular beer on tap CzechVar in a distinctive red on white type. Enjoy explaining to a couple of bemused Americans that their country is almost the only one in the world where that particular brew is named as such.