Angling for a good time
Among the anachronisms in Golden Gate Park are the two windmills at the park’s western edge, which were built at the turn of the last century and pumped 70,000 gallons of water an hour in an effort to help root the park to its site on top of vast sand dunes. In 1913, electric pumps took over and the windmills fell to ruin. Restorations for both were completed between 1981 and 2012. This is a particularly beautiful and less traveled part of the park, which harbors many other pleasant surprises, including the small lakes and walking paths west of the Polo Fields. Among the glades, off a trail in the reeds, you’ll also come upon an occasional “sacred space.” The much-revered ecofeminist and neopagan activist Starhawk has held ceremonies in this area at the solstices.
Nearby, in a grove of eucalyptus trees behind the police stables, is one of the park’s lesser-known and most curious features: a pair of fly-casting pools. They are located next to the clubhouse for the Golden Gate Angling and Casting Club, an international club that opened in 1933 and whose members include some of the greatest casters of all time. The ponds themselves are considered world class and have been the site for many competitions. Free casting lessons for all levels are available to nonmembers at various times throughout the year.
Info
Address McLaren Angler’s Lodge and Fly Casting Pools, 1232 John F. Kennedy Drive, San Francisco, CA, 94121, www.ggacc.org, +1 650.270.7258 | Public Transport Bus: 5 (Fulton St & 36th Ave stop) | Tip Rhododendron Island, at JFK Drive and 36th Avenue, is home to 400 rhododendrons, blooming once a year, with different varieties showing color between February and May.
In 2000, Thomas McGuane, novelist, filmmaker, and one of the country’s great sportswriters, wrote a description of the club’s members in his essay The Longest Silence: A Life in Fishing: “The group is not quite heterogeneous, and though its members seem less inclined to dressing up than many of San Francisco’s populace, they are not the Silent Majority’s wall of flannel, either. To be exact, sartorially, there is no shortage of really thick white socks here, sleeveless V-neck sweaters, or brown oxfords. The impression, you suppose, is vaguely up-country.”
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