Hop aboard bus, enjoy a fresh view
Morning commute on AC Transit offers new perspective
Ferries are more fun, I readily admit, but for a stress-free perch from which to contemplate the subjective quality of the views we hold so dear, there’s no better vantage point than taking AC Transit down Interstate 80 on the morning commute into San Francisco.
Buses are rarely packed tight. You might get a window seat facing west. Head to the rear, up two steps, and no car or bridge-side railing will impede the view.
Instead, the relatively short journey is a kinetic succession of perspectives and landmarks — some locked in place, others shifting every day.
The eye-catcher this year, for its novelty if nothing else, is Salesforce Tower. This was true when it was an imposing work in progress, cranes and concrete and wall panels dangling mid-air. It is true in the low morning sun, which bounces a concentrated circle of light off the tapered shaft’s curved southeast edge.
Yes, the thick 1,070-foot shaft designed by Pelli Clarke Pelli Architects is huge. It pulls the skyline south in such a way that the former high-point, the Transamerica Pyramid, becomes an outer ripple on the man-made ridge.
It also adds a surprising new twist to the scene: the call-and-response between Salesforce Tower and the east span of the Bay Bridge.
When that crossing debuted in 2013, with one big cable slung to cradle the roadway from a central tower painted white, the response was underwhelming. Did we need to spend $6.4 billion on a would-be icon standing by itself near the Emeryville mudflats? Did we need to endure years of delays because the centerpiece is intended to symbolize the East Bay?
The answers haven’t changed: no and no.
But now, at least, the east span doesn’t seem so alone. On this stretch of I-80 near the Emeryville shore, it’s a counterpoint to the larger form behind — one lean compact tower in the bay and one broad silvery obelisk hovering above its neighbors.
And then that relationship dissolves.
The bus curves to the west and touches down on the right edge of the multilane approach to the tollbooths. If you’re behind the wheel, this stretch is grim. But AC Transit lets you relax and check out the mudflats and marshes where shorebirds skitter back and forth.
In and of itself, the scene is no different from the fringe of countless estuaries. Tight by freeways, with skylines and barely green hills as a backdrop, the Bay Area’s juggling act between cities and nature snaps into soothing balance.
Or shift your gaze and register, instead, the half-dozen or so transmission towers to the north of the tollbooths. They’ve been there for decades. They’re easy to ignore. For a minute, though, they loom large — vertical static locked into place.
Then it’s up the sluggish incline, through the the white-cabled tent, through Yerba Buena Island’s brief tunnel. San Francisco lies ahead. So much to choose from! It’s hard for me this time of year to resist the Golden Gate Bridge, orange paint gleaming in the sun. The icon seems to connect Coit Tower and Russian Hill, rather than straddle a waterway several miles beyond.
Or the Embarcadero below, the blunt cut of piers. Maybe a cruise ship is docked at Pier 27, another white presence on the scene. Maybe there’s a slowmoving container ship, Oakland-bound.
Or maybe you’re on the left side of the bus, as I was the morning when a line of pelicans skimmed the rustling waves, on course toward Yerba Buena Island.
All these elements come and go, some on their own, some at the mercy of the bus. And that constant motion deserves attention — because it says something fundamental about our perceptions of cities and our often overheated reaction to change.
Your image of the region, as mine, tends to be a settled thing. We have the views that ring true, to us, and the mental hierarchy of what deserves attention. The way things “ought” to be. But nothing is static in a region such as ours, where the juggling act between city and nature has been a fact of life since the Gold Rush. Buildings look different depending on your vantage point, whether you’re close by or in the distance, whether the object of your gaze is on a treasured landmark or something unexpected that jars the scene.
The reassurance of the old. The shock of the new.
Shock has been a constant in the Bay Area during our long disruptive economic boom. And this year has felt like five years in itself, with the weight of national politics dragging so many of us down.
These realities make it all the more important to cherish the serendipitous pleasures we still have. Including the ones that cost $4.50, and get you from point A to point B.