#golden gate bridge wikipedia

[seekergkfan]

In which country is the Golden Gate Bridge located?

In which country is the Golden Gate Bridge located? A. USA B. Canada C. Mexico D. Brazil (more…) “”

[northameicanblog]

Hawk Hill, California, United States: Hawk Hill is a 923-foot peak in the Marin Headlands, just north of the Golden Gate Bridge and across the Golden Gate strait from San Francisco, California. The hill is within the Golden Gate National Recreation Area. It is the lookout point for the largest known flight of diurnal raptors in the Pacific states. Each autumn, from August into December, tens of thousands of hawks, kites, falcons, eagles, vultures, osprey, and harriers are funneled by the peninsular shape of Marin County into the headlands. Wikipedia

[sandcobangevent]

Clutch

by @sealbug and @iwantthatbelstaffanditsoccupant

“They really are beautiful. Pristine.”

“Erosion.”

“Hmm?”

“That’s what keeps them pristine. These cliffs are eroding far too rapidly for any colouration, let alone vegetation, to take hold before they crumble into the sea. This whole cliff is degrading beneath our very feet.”

“Hopefully not too fast, eh?” The words landed lightly enough, but if Sherlock had lifted the scarf John had tightly wrapped around his face to ward off the steady wind, he would have seen all levity had faded long before the sentence ended. “Look, can you… Can you just look fast so we can get out of here? I’m freezing my bollocks off.”

“Just a moment.”

“You’re sure about this?”

“I’m not at all sure about this. That’s why I want to investigate. His wife and his insurance agent, however, are a bit too sure about this.”

“It is the most common spot for suicides in England. Right up there with that spooky forest in Japan—”

“The Aokigahara Forest of Mt Fuji.”

“Yeah, the…Okahara Forest. And the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco.”

“You’ve been researching on Wikipedia again, Watson.”

“So they’ve got it wrong again?”

“Not wrong exactly. Just, misleading. It’s a prime spot for jumping, certainly— 162 metre high cliff. Jumping from a height, however, is not exactly a popular method for ending one’s life. Roughly two percent choose that method, and only 23 people annually are found to have killed themselves at Beachy Head. Compare that to the close to 50 who do so in the Underground and you can see why I am not convinced. I believe he merely sought out a quiet seaside holiday. Ask any resident, and they will speak of the millions of visitors who do not have dark intentions.”

“I always thought insurance wouldn’t pay out if it was suicide.”

“They have an exclusionary period from the date the policy is signed—generally between one and two years. His underwriter was Royal London, which has a one year hold. We passed that threshold last week.”

“Maybe he waited till it passed. So his wife could get the money.”

“It is possible. But it is equally possible his wife waited the year to rid herself of him so she could get the money.”

“Yeah. Same difference, I guess. Well. Not really.” John paused and surveyed the landscape. There was no doubt the rolling hills leading to a sheer, chalk white cliff overlooking a surprisingly turquoise sea was beautiful, on the face of it. But John couldn’t help but feel a little queasy. “It’s still creepy, mate. Chilling.”

“I did warn you about dressing for the seaside climate.”

John considered clarifying that that was not what he meant by ‘chilling’, but decided against it. “You said a beach. Beaches are…warm and...lovely...and have Ferris wheels sometimes and Victorian prominades and such. This…is not a beach. This…is a cliff.”

“True. But that…” Sherlock gestured a full 162 metres downward, “…is a beach.”

“I don’t mind strolling along a beach. Bit of the ol’ sand between the toes.”

“Gravel.”

“Bit of the ol’ gravel between the toes. I wouldn’t mind being down there. But I don’t much care for being up here. And…could you not… Could you not lean over the edge like that? If you want to go examine the actual beach part of Beachy Head, I am more than happy to do so, Sherlock. Sherlock?”

“Hmmmm. There’s something down there.”

“Good, good, let’s go down there. Let’s go down there and have a closer look, shall we? I don’t— Sherlock!”

John watched as Sherlock plopped upon his belly and began moving, snake-like, toward the edge.

“Just a little hint of a hesitation…here.” He pointed to a divot in the grass. “Correct size shoe. Dragging slightly. He may not have been fully conscious. Drugging is a distinct possibility. Far too many people picnic here for us to determine if they had done so as well, though it is always possible a local shopkeeper might recall this particular couple grabbing a takeaway. And a…just a minute...”

“Sherlock! What are you doing? These cliffs are…Look you said yourself they aren’t stable, so can you please stop teetering on the edge of them?”

“Not going to teeter on the edge, Watson. Just want to get a closer look at some of the marks over here.”

John took a deep breath. Sherlock was, after all, flat on his belly, and somewhat unlikely to fall off. He’d seen him climb out of windows, onto rooftops, and up trees as confident as anyone could possibly be, but still, Sherlock and heights were simply no longer a good combination.

When he was a child, John had climbed a large oak and perched in the very top.  He had hidden there, laughing when his mum came outside,  puzzled as to why his friend was in the tree alongside the house but John was nowhere to be seen. She thought for sure she’d heard his voice moments before. ‘Where’s John?’, she’d asked, and his friend replied by pointing upward. Carol Watson’s eyes followed the path of his finger and finally spotted John in the sparse branches far above the roof. She grasped the doorframe tightly as her fear transformed into anger and told him to come right down for supper this instant. John hadn’t noticed how the branches had bent under his weight, even as an only moderately pudgy eleven-year-old. He had never been afraid of heights. What’s the danger in being high up? It’s not as if simply being high up means you’ll actually—

Fall.

John closed his eyes and breathed deeply, but all he could see behind those lids was Sherlock falling. He hadn’t seen it happen, of course, back then. He had been busy helping a young hiker hobble to their hotel on a twisted ankle. He had handed over his microphone, when Sherlock had insisted on recording “the ambience” for the podcast while John headed back, only to find it lying abandoned at the edge of the falls, red light still flashing. It had recorded only rushing water and an intermittent bit of Sherlock’s voice, indecipherable, and John was left to imagine the rest, which he did with surprising clarity. 

John saw him fall. As clearly as if it had happened before him. John saw him fall, over and over again, every night for months on end. In his dreams, sometimes he was battling a fierce monster, eyes blazing with fire, failing to vanquish the beast and save his friend. Other times, he was right behind Sherlock and stopped to tie his shoe, or to get an ice lolly from a magically-appearing truck. Always some absurd distraction, and he arrived too late to stop it but never, never too late bear witness. Not once did his mind spare him from the sight of watching Sherlock fall.   

Even now, as he closed his eyes in a futile attempt to calm himself, the image ‘greeted’ him. So much for quiet meditation. John quickly opened them in an attempt to remind himself of the here and now— a brief deescalation technique he had learned long ago. You had to look around, notice things, connect to the present using all your senses and concentrate on each one in sequence. He listened to the steady eb and flow of the tide, not the endless rushing of a waterfall. I am in Sussex. He smelled salty air, not a pine forest. I am in Sussex. He saw—

He saw Sherlock’s fingers, gripping tightly to the edge of a cliff. 

And then—almost as if he had imagined them—he didn’t see them anymore. 

John stared at the spot where chalk met grass, where Sherlock’s fingers had been gripping the edge less than a second before. He was rooted to the spot. Frozen. Unable to take a single step. To make a single sound. The scenery grew hazy and he heard a voice from far away.

“Watson? John? John?!!”

Hands reappeared on the edge of the cliff, followed by a foot, and then the rest of the strong and lithe body of Sherlock Holmes swung up over the edge and rolled onto the grass. 

John still did not move.

“John!!! I was wondering why you weren’t taking the threads I was extending to you. I… I thought perhaps someone else was up here— one of those patrolling Samaritans who try to dissuade jumpers— so I… John?”

Something finally broke the spell which had gripped him and John spoke, his voice breaking like the waves upon the rocks below. “Sherlock. It’s… It’s fine. I…I didn’t hear you. Sorry. Sorry. Was just…thinking about…something else for a bit there. What did you…What did you find?”

“Never mind that. What happened just now? What were—”

Then suddenly it all made sense. He couldn't believe it. He forgot. He forgot.

Sherlock had so many things he wanted to say. That he had peered over the edge and saw a small landing below. Not especially large, true, but one that would easily accommodate him. He needed only to swing toward it, to land neatly upon it. There was something there. Some fibres which resembled the scarf the insurance agent had been wearing. Perhaps enough to place him at the crime scene, perhaps not—but worth investigating. It was only a small jump. Not even a jump. Just. A drop. 

He forgot. He forgot.

And some of it… Some of it, he’d resigned himself to never knowing. That was fair. It had to be. John insisted Mariana not discuss any of it. She hadn’t told Sherlock about John’s request, but it had been obvious.

The message he left explaining The Plan had been sufficient. Had it? Did you explain? Or did you simply think you left that message, think you had told him, but had not. Flashes from Victor’s case invaded Sherlock’s thoughts. You believed you had told them your plan, but you had not. You cannot trust your memory. 

Memory. It was not just tricky, it was downright villainous at times. When John had failed to arrive at their rendezvous point, Sherlock had assumed he was still angry at the last-minute nature of it. One should always take advantage of such unforeseen moments, if they happen to arise naturally, to avoid a missed opportunity. One seldom gets a second chance.

It was not until Sherlock had returned to London that he had been able to reconnect with Wiggins, get back on his feet, and finally listen to the podcast. To know his message (it provided some relief that he had indeed left one) had never been truly received. Garbled, useless. How to explain what had happened without it sounding like an attempt at justification? An attempt to minimise the damage he had brought about. Impossible. 

John had broadcasted what he referred to as his Final Adventure, intending to end the podcast, but some listeners had convinced him to do otherwise. He occasionally released older cases, ones he had not yet edited. He had said they were ‘in the can’. Some were short and even lacked a complete solution, and these were difficult for Sherlock to listen to for more reasons than one. Occasionally, John would divert from the true crime format and interview vets— his original plan before Sherlock had derailed his life. Mariana was still there, though Sherlock sometimes wondered how long that could last before he cursed his stupidity for ever thinking Mariana would ever vanish once the cases were gone, or even if the entire podcast ended. Hearing both their voices was somehow equally comforting and distressing.

When he eventually decided he could no longer bear staying away, Sherlock managed to accept as an undeserved gift the genuine joy John had shown in discovering he was somehow alive. How that joy still existed, alongside the occasional, but dwindling, flashes of betrayal and anger, was something Sherlock was far too afraid to examine, lest it disappear in a puff of logic. He had clung to the hope that, in time, John might even forget. But no. It was Sherlock who had forgotten. Had forgotten what it would be like, to watch him disappear over the edge. He had ignored how John had been uncomfortable from the very first, doing his best to bury his feelings beneath a pile of babbling words and trite observations about the weather.  

But this moment, perched on a cliff in Sussex, was an opportunity also. A sort of second chance. A rewrite of the narrative, though Sherlock hadn’t considered it as such. He had only instinctively pulled his friend into his chest, feeling John grip his shirt as tightly as he himself had gripped the cliff’s edge moments before. But Sherlock was not about to let go this time, even as he felt a drop within his stomach. John burrowed into Sherlock’s shoulder, finding in his body a natural resting place, a shelter. 

So much he should say, all racing through his brain without any real form. Still, Sherlock only stood there, one arm across John’s shoulders and the other at the base of his neck, tucked beneath his scarf. John’s skin was so warm there. Warm and comforting, and he could feel John’s pulse beating against the edge of his own wrist. They stayed like this until neither of them felt the cold air surrounding them. Only the warmth in each other. 

“I’m s—”

“Love means never having to say you’re sorry, Sherlock.”

“What kind of a stupid phrase is that? Love means always having to say you’re sorry.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I guess it kinda is a rubbish film.”

“I’m sorry, John. For not thinking about how you’d be affected. And for having made an impulsive decision and assuming that decision could ever have made sense. Though I did attempt, with limited success, to—”

“I think…” John raised his head. “I think they meant love is never having to explain all about how you tried to fix things by leaving an inaudible message on a dodgy SD card and didn’t check up on it later. Clearly, that’s what Jenny meant to say.” John took a deep breath. “I’m sure you did. Try. It didn’t work and it doesn’t matter. I mean, yes, it matters. That you tried, matters. That it still hurts matters, too. What I mean to say is, I forgive you. And, what you went through, after? It must have been difficult for you, too.”

“Sneaking on the Shatabdi should have been a highlight of my life. Instead, it was absolutely miserable.”

“Good to know.” John rewrapped his scarf, placed his hand on the small of Sherlock’s back, and guided him back onto the path back to Eastbourne. “What’s a Shatabdi?”

“Train to Nepal.”

“Nepal. Sounds like quite the adventure.”

“No. It was a task. An unpleasant task. I only have Adventures when I’m with you.”

“How does ‘The Adventure of the Warm Fire and Sunday Roast’ sound? Inn’s down there somewhere.” John gestured with his head toward the path ahead rather than the cliff behind. “Onward?”

“Yes. Onward!” And Sherlock placed his hand on John’s back as well.

____________

Check it out on AO3 too!

[rabbitcruiser]

Flying West (No. 6)

San Francisco and the surrounding San Francisco Bay Area are a global center of economic activity and the arts and sciences, spurred by leading universities, high-tech, healthcare, finance, insurance, real estate, and professional services sectors. As of 2020, the metropolitan area, with 6.7 million residents, ranked 5th by GDP ($874 billion) and 2nd by GDP per capita ($131,082) across the OECD countries, ahead of global cities like Paris, London, and Singapore. San Francisco anchors the 13th most populous metropolitan statistical area in the United States with 4.6 million residents, and the fourth-largest by aggregate income and economic output, with a GDP of $729 billion in 2022. The wider San Jose–San Francisco–Oakland Combined Statistical Area is the nation's fifth-most populous, with around nine million residents, and the third-largest by economic output, with a GDP of $1.32 trillion in 2022. In the same year, San Francisco proper had a GDP of $252.2 billion, and a GDP per capita of $312,000. San Francisco was ranked fifth in the world and second in the United States on the Global Financial Centres Index as of September 2023. Despite a continuing exodus of businesses from the downtown area of San Francisco,[43][44] the city is still home to numerous companies inside and outside of technology, including Salesforce, Uber, Airbnb, X Corp., Levi's, Gap, Dropbox, and Lyft.

In 2022, San Francisco had more than 1.7 million international visitors – the fifth-most visited city from abroad in the United States after New York City, Miami, Orlando, and Los Angeles – and approximately 20 million domestic visitors for a total of 21.9 million visitors. The city is known for its steep rolling hills and eclectic mix of architecture across varied neighborhoods, as well as its cooling summers, fog, and notable landmarks, including the Golden Gate Bridge, cable cars, and Alcatraz, along with the Chinatown and Mission districts. The city is home to a number of educational and cultural institutions, such as the University of California, San Francisco, the University of San Francisco, San Francisco State University, the San Francisco Conservatory of Music, the de Young Museum, the San Francisco Museum of Modern Art, the San Francisco Symphony, the San Francisco Ballet, the San Francisco Opera, the SFJAZZ Center, and the California Academy of Sciences. Two major league sports teams, the San Francisco Giants and the Golden State Warriors, play their home games within San Francisco proper. San Francisco International Airport (SFO) offers flights to over 125 destinations while a light rail and bus network, in tandem with the BART and Caltrain systems, connects nearly every part of San Francisco with the wider region.

Source: Wikipedia

[colourseveryday]

Golden Gate Bridge

hex: #F04A00

colour name source: Wikipedia

[woollenpharaohs]

omg you're correct, this IS the website for infodumping. Ya'll asked for it, here it is, the Millau Viaduct, the tallest bridge in the world:

The above image is from when it was still in construction. The red posts have since been removed. I chose this photo because it gives a pretty good indication of why it is so tall.

Most tall bridges gain height in their cable-stay spans above deck, but this bad boy? It knocks the golden gate bridge right out of the park! At 336.4m in height (1,104 ft), its support pylons are greater in height than the cable-stay spans and that's because the bridge spans over a deep valley. Absolute mad lads... and the story behind why and how they even did this is such a trip.

I'm just paraphrasing Wikipedia's article but in the 1980s the traffic near a French town called Millau was getting super congested especially from people travelling through it from Paris to Spain in summer. The locals and government wanted to build a bypass which is all well and good when you're dealing with flat land but Millau is in the Tarn valley which is a mountainous area and densely forested. The Tarn is so significant it actually forms part of a UNESCO world heritage site. So building a bypass through the 'untouched' forest was not going to be an option.

In total four serious options were considered. Utimately the final route was chosen because it would have minimal impact on the environment (debatable), would not impact on existing or planned structures and was supported by the locals. Of the option chosen, the route could either take a low solution that descended into the valley, crossed the river with a bridge, then another viaduct and then a tunnel, or they could just straight up build a tall ass viaduct from two valley peaks above the river. The latter was more cost efficient and wouldn't interfere with the water table and so in 1991 the french government was like ok we've decided on how we want it done, now go forth, engineers, and bring our mad idea to life!

The government proceeded to run a design competition to select a team of architects and researchers to work on a technical solution for the route that the government had decided on. Due to the sheer insanity of their proposal, they got only 17 structural engineer offers and 38 architects. The government had to form an internal school of experts to help them decide which of the offers were suitable. The experts chose five basic proposals and the competition was re-launched to have the five chosen provide in-depth studies. The solution of a multi-span viaduct cable-stayed bridge was declared the best and so in 1998 tests commenced based on the winning design. The whole design process took about 7 years.

Obtaining a tender for the contractors was actually fairly easy despite the complexity of the design. That's because the government took the design stage to such a detailed level removing the onus on the contractor to nut out the fine details. This reportedly made the construction phase cheaper, though the whole construction cost up to 394 million euros.

I won't go into detail about how it was constructed, here's a short 3 min video explaining it and a 15 min video that more hilariously explains the whole insane concept. One thing that really stuck out to me was that nobody had ever constructed a bridge the way the Millau Viaduct had been designed so everything they did was run through mathematical algorithms multiple times. When they were to attach a span of the bridge deck to a pylon, they basically had to swing the enormous stretch of deck piece and hope that their mathematical calculations were correct for it to lodge into place first go because if it missed, the deck piece could slam against the pylon and could possibly fall into the river below. By sheer mathematical luck, the deck piece lodged exactly in place!

The engineering feat of this bridge is just astounding and it's so wild that the government were like ok we need to do this route this way now who wants to make it happen?? And like so few firms were willing to take it up, but by god did they make it work in the end.

Anyway, here are some extra fun facts. It is so tall that it required millions of surveillance devices to be installed all over the bridge to monitor even the slightest movement. This baby is more surveilled than the entire UK (an exaggeration, an joke). The above deck elements are reinforced and coated in weather-protected material to reduce impacts of being so high above natural ground level, and the aforementioned sensors also monitor the bridge's reactions to extreme weather. The initial speed limit over the bridge was 130km but they had to reduce it to 110km. I can't find anywhere that definitively says how long it takes to drive over it but it seems like 2-3 min? At which point you'd be above the height of the eiffel tower!

Lastly here is a comparative image of the height of the bridge in green to other notable bridges:

she tall.

@aromanticduck thank you for reblogging my initial post and letting me indulge in the wonder of the millau viaduct once again.

I was trying to tell two (2) seperate friends about the tallest bridge in the world and why I thought it was so cool but both times neither friend seemed particularly interested and I think that's just super funny for me personally because yeah why am I do fascinated by it sjjfjsjs

[thesinglesjukebox]

BILLIE EILISH - EVERYTHING I WANTED

[7.11]

Meanwhile, congratulations to Finneas, now a Grammy nominee with one listed album credit and zero Wikipedia bios...

Will Adams: Billie Eilish ruminating on fame via song is to be expected after this year, but "Everything I Wanted" is a more relatable take on the format: straightforward but brutal imagery -- a nightmare about jumping off the Golden Gate Bridge and no one caring -- set to the harried pulse of "Ribs." And at its core, it's not a "woe is fame" screed but a dedication to Billie's brother, who acts as her anchor amidst the storm. It's touching, but it's also the kind of vulnerability one could only get from a teenager who's been thrust into such a situation. [7]

Ian Mathers: There's an undertow to a lot of Eilish's songs, production-wise, vocals-wise, lyrics-wise, emotionally even: something that seems to be pulling back or ebbing away. Here, it's that piano, and the almost muttered delivery. "Everything I Wanted" hits several of the spins you might expect from someone this young after this kind of banner year -- dreams, her relationship with her brother, that "everything I wanted" might not be what her fans assume it is, etc. -- but puts a slightly different torque on nearly all of them, while being more outright lovely than anything on her album. [8]

Isabel Cole: It feels odd to describe a song describing a nightmare of unmourned suicide as sweet, no matter how warm and unfussy its piano line. But it's the chorus's depiction of unwavering support that lingers after, maybe because the song wisely avoids playing it musically as a big uplift. She still sounds fragile and morose, especially on they don't deserve you, like maybe she doesn't believe him but is grateful for his presence all the same. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: The first Billie Eilish single in a while that I actually can imagine someone else releasing, and I don't think it's entirely due to the music industry commissioning 10,000 Eilish knockoffs in the past year. The track is melancholy strobing late-night house (think "Vermillion") with few surprises; the chorus swells in conventionally touching form. This would probably be an [8] from anyone else. [6]

William John: A maudlin dance album from Lorde, produced by someone like DJ Koze, is high on my list of things from 2020 that I would love to see but know I'll never get. "Everything I Wanted" makes me think that maybe it's likelier I'll get that album from Billie Eilish. The whole song is spellbinding, but the bit that really sticks in my head is the introduction of an unexpected harmony on the pivotal word "change" in the chorus, demonstrating her ability to wring the most out of simple tricks. [8]

Kylo Nocom: She's fallen into the trap most people fall into as they grow older: mistaking sonic normalcy for a sign of maturity. Balladry and temperance are weaknesses that Billie still needs to work out, but she can't help but call back to the simple harmonies and modesty of "Ocean Eyes," even when she's worked in vicious rage enough to understand this as her strongest suit. As always, however, she writes about teenage hurt with enough precision to make this watered-down ambiance forgivable, and almost meaningful. [5]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: What "Everything I Wanted" lacks in the camp department, it gains in coherence and poise-- it's more fully formed than her ballads tend to be, less chaotic than her uptempo numbers. It's not the most interesting thing she's done -- "fame sucks" songs rarely are -- but it's an artistic step forward and an indicator that Eilish has the potential to be more than just a zoomer icon. [7]

Alex Clifton: I can't imagine what it's like to suddenly have your entire life spotlighted when you're a teenager who also deals with anxiety and depression, skyrocketing to fame after having your music live in your own head for so long. And Billie Eilish has spun those feelings into a better piece of art than I've ever been able to, her voice worn and fragile like someone older and more tired, but always caught by the security of Finneas's gentle piano line. I hate the idea that art requires suffering to be good and worthwhile, but this deals with it beautifully. [7]

Edward Okulicz: Eilish trades intense drama on a cinematic scale for an intimate close-up, adding emotional chills to dance chill. Few people today are using the untamed emotional palette of a teenager to such interesting and popular effect. She just makes it sound effortless. [9]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[citymaus]

“From the densely urban neighborhoods of Oakland and Berkeley, to the gritty, industrial swaths of Richmond, to the suburbia of Pinole and Hercules and the small company towns of Rodeo and Crockett, San Pablo Avenue is the common link that all of these communities share.

Starting at the northern end of San Pablo Ave is the small town of Crockett. Crockett was built around the C&H sugar factory, and has an architectural style that is reminiscent of Sausalito. One of the main attractions in Crockett is the Dead Fish, an upscale, waterside restaurant with views of the Carquinez Strait, the Napa River, San Pablo Bay; as well as views of Mare Island, Vallejo and Benicia directly across the bridge. Crockett also has some local fame as the hometown of Alfred Zampa, a legendary iron worker, who, during his career, worked on many of the Bay Area’s bridges, including the Golden Gate Bridge, which he fell off of and miraculously survived. As a result of his larger than life legend, the Carquinez Bridge is also known a the “Al Zampa Bridge.”

the carquinez bridge and crockett hills regional park. flickr/pbo31

“While Hercules’ next door neighbor, Rodeo is a blue collar, refinery town. Hercules is every example of modern, master-planned suburbia. The streets are perfectly paved, people are reserved, but friendly enough; crime is low and schools are above average. The town started off similarly to Rodeo, as a company town, rather than an oil refinery, it was situated around an explosives and munitions manufacturer called The Hercules Powder Company. As a result, people colloquially called the area Hercules, after the Powder Company. Once the city was incorporated, no one could really come up with anything, so the name stuck. Although, it’s hard to see any evidence of its industrial past as you cruise down San Pablo Ave through Hercules today.”

hercules. flickr/jlin45d

read more: brokeassstuart, 27.09.19.

the writer forgot the most important fact—san pablo ave is a highway, which is why it cuts through a bunch of cities.

“State Route 123 (SR 123) is a state highway in the U.S. state of California in the San Francisco Bay Area. Named San Pablo Avenue for virtually its entire length, SR 123 is a major north–south state highway along the flats of the urban East Bay. Route 123 runs about 7.39 miles (11.9 km) between Interstate 580 in Oakland in the south and Interstate 80 in Richmond in the north. San Pablo Avenue itself, a portion of Historic US 40, continues well past these termini, south to Downtown Oakland and north to Crockett, but without the Route 123 designation.“ —wikipedia

related: the san pablo avenue corridor project.

[northameicanblog]

Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, United States: The Golden Gate Bridge is a suspension bridge spanning the Golden Gate, the one-mile-wide strait connecting San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. The bridge is one of the most internationally recognized symbols of San Francisco and California. Wikipedia

[dodiindependence]

Über Berkeley nach San José

Heute haben wir viel vor. Erstes Ziel ist Berkeley, wir möchten die Universität besuchen. Auf dem Weg dorthin schrauben wir uns über kleine Straßen mit sehr schönen Häusern immer höher auf den Berg hinauf. Am Rosengarten können wir anhalten und die Aussicht über die Bay auf die Golden Gate Bridge und Downtown San Francisco genießen.

Berkeley ist der älteste Campus in Kalifornien und eine staatliche Einrichtung.

Die Atmosphäre gefällt mir sehr gut, die Gebäude zeigen Bausstile aus allen Epochen seit 1868. Sogar ein Loghouse sehen wir. Viele Studenten sind unterwegs, wenn fünf zusammenstehen sind es vier unterschiedliche Ethnien. Insgesamt überwiegen aber Asiaten. Im Cafe kaufen wir einen richtig guten Kaffee und wandern so zum Campanile, dem Tower des Campus.

Von hier hat man den besten Blick und um 12:00 Uhr das Glockenspiel.

[arellebee43]

i needed to know who this was (i couldn't place him but i've never been that into westerns) so i reverse image searched. His name is Clint Walker, six and half feet tall, that's a pretty big dude alright, ok sure. And then his Wikipedia hits me across the face with this:

NEAR death? NEAR??!

buddy that's like saying the golden gate bridge is near san francisco.

it doesn't count as near when it's legally the same entity!!

he was just huge huh ok I see u

[rabbitcruiser]

Tagus River, Belém 

The 25 de Abril Bridge (Portuguese: Ponte 25 de Abril, 25th of April Bridge) is a suspension bridge connecting the city of Lisbon, capital of Portugal, to the municipality of Almada on the left (south) bank of the Tagus river. It has a total length of 2,277 metres (7,470 ft), making it the 46th longest suspension bridge in the world.

From its inauguration on 6 August 1966 up to 1974, the bridge was named Salazar Bridge (Ponte Salazar), after Portuguese Prime Minister António de Oliveira Salazar, who ordered its construction. After the Carnation Revolution, which overthrew the remnants of Salazar's regime, the bridge was renamed for April 25, the date of the revolution. It is also commonly called the Tagus River Bridge (in Portuguese: Ponte sobre o Tejo = "bridge over the Tagus").

Later changes had to be made due to the rapid increase in population. In the 1990s, a fifth car lane was added, and in 1999, a lower deck, used as a railway track, which was planned since the beginning, was finally built. Today, the upper deck carries six car lanes while the lower deck carries a double track railway, electrified at 25 kV AC.

The 25 de Abril Bridge is based in part on two San Francisco Bay Area bridges. Its paint is the same International Orange color as the famous Golden Gate Bridge, and the design is similar as well for the San Francisco–Oakland Bay Bridge. Both the Bay Bridge and the 25 de Abril Bridge were built by the same company. The American Society of Civil Engineers says: "Like its sister bridge, the SFOBB in San Francisco, the Tagus River Bridge is located in an area with a long history of earthquakes" and seismic data had to be taken into account in its construction. Another sister bridge is the Forth Road Bridge in Edinburgh.

Upon completion, the bridge had the longest suspended span and the longest main span in Continental Europe, the world's longest continuous truss, and the world's deepest bridge foundation. It was the fifth-largest suspension bridge in the world, and the largest outside the US. Today it is the 43rd largest suspension bridge in the world.

Source: Wikipedia    

[tilthatbot]

Today I Learned

TIL that the Golden Gate Bridge was built by Big Bird in 1980.

Source: Wikipedia

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Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, California, United States: The Golden Gate Bridge is a suspension bridge spanning the Golden Gate, the one-mile-wide strait connecting San Francisco Bay and the Pacific Ocean. Wikipedia