When I moved from the East Coast to San Francisco in June of 2004, I left my car behind so I could take full advantage of this city named second best in the country for walking. Having survived years of walking at least 10 miles a week on a treadmill and in the 90-degree heat and soaking humidity of Tampa Bay, I was ready to challenge the hills of this beautiful “city by the bay.” It was then I discovered it was indeed possible, and even likely in San Francisco, to walk 12 miles uphill in both directions! My determination was wavering, as this was turning out to be a more exhausting and daunting form of exercise than I'd bargained for. So I began scouting Craigslist for walking partners to encourage and entertain me while I “worked out,” and that's when I came across a link to Walk California. While still interviewing for jobs and getting settled into my apartment, I was determined to hook up with the group walking in North Beach. I hadn't been there yet, but being a literary type and a student of Italian language and culture, North Beach, with its history of Beat Generation writers and Italian culture, was calling my name.

I scheduled the North Beach walk on my calendar and made plans to join the group at Filbert and Stockton where they met by the green benches in Washington Square Park. Every week came and went—somehow I always had a job interview that afternoon and didn't have enough time to go home and change into walking clothes and shoes. It was already late July when, with no job interview scheduled the next day, I was eagerly anticipating my first real chance to join the walk…and then a telemarketer called. He could guarantee I would receive a free digital camera if I spent 2 hours the next afternoon at a timeshare presentation down at Fisherman's Wharf. How could I pass up a chance for a free digital camera?

Could I get out of the presentation in time to meet the walkers? I consulted my already-disintegrating maps—Fisherman's Wharf didn't look too far from Washington Square Park. It appeared possible to do both, so I agreed to go to the presentation before meeting up with the walk. Well, you know how these timeshare things go—they started late, talked incessantly, and insisted I stay the full two hours from the time they actually began yakking, not the time they'd told me they were scheduled to start. After realizing I was in danger of missing the walk yet again, I grabbed my newly-acquired camera and bolted, not sure of how far I had to go or whether I'd even make it there with an angry mob of salespeople nipping at my heels, ready to repossess my camera!

Determined, however, to make it to the walk this time against all odds, I hoped the group would still be there when I finally arrived. I was 15 minutes late, already exhausted and sure they must have left without me when I reached the northwest corner of the park, panting my way towards Stockton. And then, as I stepped onto the sidewalk at the other end of the park, I found myself in the midst of about 10 men and women, walking briskly, chatting amiably, each carrying a water bottle. I thought, “This is just too good to be true. Maybe I haven't missed the group after all.” But it also occurred to me that perhaps this was just another group of walkers or a loosely organized group of tourists. I wanted to be sure before I introduced myself. In truth, I was feeling a little foolish. So I did the next logical thing, since after all, I was there to walk…I followed them!

Pretty soon, I couldn't help eavesdropping. There were a variety of accents, a plethora of heritages represented. Some people talked about work, others about families, some about love prospects, and some even about creative alternatives to love prospects! Others seemed like they had just met for the first time and were getting acquainted as they traversed the blocks and began the steep climb up Russian Hill. Finally, after about 10 minutes they stopped, and as I huffed and puffed to catch up, there before me lay the first of many glorious views of the bay. I knew then first hand why people sang about leaving their hearts here.

While we all stopped to catch our breath only to have it taken away again by the vista, I managed to finally ask, “Are you the Walk California group?” They all turned to look, noticing me for the first time, wondering about this strange, little woman who had suddenly appeared in their midst, seeming to know who they were. I explained how I'd followed them for blocks, waiting for the courage and the moment to ask if I'd found the right group of walkers. To my relief, they welcomed me with howls of delight, amazed I'd had the tenacity to find them!

And so it began, one night last July, that I met the first friends I would have in San Francisco. Not only have I managed to survive the rigors of the North Beach hike nearly every week since I first found them, but I've joined many other Walk California walks and hikes, enjoying the camaraderie of some of the nicest, most interesting and most companionable people I've had the pleasure of knowing in my lifetime. We've shared the funny and the trying stories of our day-to-day existence during these walks and the casual dining that usually follows. We've watched fortune cookies being made in Chinatown and played early 20 th century mechanical arcade games at Fisherman's Wharf. We've seen Sts. Peter and Paul's Cathedral lit up for a film shoot and even taken to the rooftops searching for new perspectives of our city. We've seen wildlife…and we've even been wildlife occasionally! Most often we watched as the daylight grew dim and the city lights appeared like innumerable strings of pearls on the black velvet throat of San Francisco Bay in the night.

The last time I wandered through a romantic city at night on foot with a group of friends was when I was a student in Rome, Italy. I was 19 years old then, full of the reckless joy and youthful abandon that it seemed for a long time I'd never experience again. But I have to say, thanks to Russ Bown and his band of merry walkers, I feel like I'm 19 again and in love with life!

Walking will never be the same “exhausting, workout” experience it was before I met Walk California. I've discovered the streets and landmarks of the city, made friends, seen heart-stopping views of SF and the surrounding area on these hikes…and I've even clocked 15 to 20 miles of walking a week. Who would have thought that “exercise” would ever be this rewarding?

You know, I'm even glad I braved the timeshare presentation beforehand. The free digital camera has come in handy recording some of my favorite moments of my first year in San Francisco to email to the friends and family I left behind--proof I've found everything I could have hoped for and more in California.

Iris Joan Price