14 July: San Francisco  (cont)
This morning we mastered the bus and arrived safely at Powell St resolved to ride the cable car rather than watch it trundle past. SO MANY PEOPLE!!! Of course we had no idea what the procedure was but after asking several people, none of whom spoke English, we were directed to a ticket office and paid our $7 each for a one way ticket. So we joined the queue. One and a half hours later we reached the head of the queue .  By that time I was best friends with the woman behind us who asked me if I knew how much it was. It's printed on your ticket. I haven't got a ticket. So with minutes to spare we made a frantic dash back to the well-hidden ticket booth in just enough time for us to scramble onto a car. She was from Oakland and asked to take our photos to show the folk back home who these Kiwis were who had saved her from ruin.
And so we experienced the most spectacular 20 minute ride in the world. Well worth the wait.
Our next challenge was to redeem our bookings for the two day hop-on-hop-off bus tour and for Alcatrez .  By this time the crowds seemed impenetrable but I snugged in behind Peter and hung on to his bag. His extra height was such a blessing and eventually our goal was achieved. Time for lunch. Crab salad at Pier 39.
Then off to Pier 33 where more crowds were milling around for this boat trip. I had booked our tickets months ago ( thanks Vicki) so we did not have to wait until August 21 when the next ticket was available. The people ahead of us were so angry that they could not get on. They couldn't  but we could. The ferries were huge and so sophisticated all for such a short ride - in the swirling fog.
It was great to experience this infamous prison, and to listen to the tour guide through the headphones. I remember it closing in 1963. I must confess that I was surprised at how well the men were cared for. Those who took the opportunities offered lived a humane existence just a mile from the CBD.
So all we had to do on our return to Pier 33 was have a cup coffee, catch a couple of trams and tuck up in our tiny cottage again. It was that which defeated us. My merino garb did not stand me in good stead for the 50 minute wait for the F tram. No truly, it was the F tram to get us to the #7 bus to make the 45min trip to our tiny cottage. The benefits of my down jacket over top of my merino garb diminished to such an extent that Peter dialled an Uber which came in 2 minutes and had us to our front door for $13.00. We've learned that lesson. In no time at all the heaters in each of our two tiny rooms had us toasty again. A day of contrasting experiences!!!!!