BOOK SERIES

“It was one of those nights where the fog paints you right to the pavement. You know those nights; I know you do. Steel streetcar wheels squealing against the tracks up Market Street, raspy voices of taxi horns and faint sirens; streetlights on the bridge strung like of dull pearls bleeding through the mist—and the smell. If I told you I loved the smell, I think you would understand. I’ll never come clean of it,” the old man said with a touch of melancholy. “A mixture of old mudflats and dreams.”

mid-century newspaperman, Alfred Kleinen to Hugo

For San Franciscans, the fog provided more than a convenient metaphor; at times it was a security blanket for the lost and confused - HS

As he skimmed the waterfront on his Gitane, Hugo thought how the City had spilled over into the Bay seemingly without remorse. Fisherman's Wharf was in trouble. Even in 1900 there was a plan for the fishing fleet at the foot of Taylor and Leavenworth Streets. He savored photographs that recalled old world sailboats tied up to the docks, each with their triangular sail wrapped to the long bow of its crossbar. Growing up, his godfather Rocco had told him stories of the fishermen who generations before him had divined their weather reports from nature - and when in the fog, the crews communicated with other boats on the water by singing to avoid collisions.

Hugo Sandoval Eco-Mystery Series

Episode 1: The ROTTING WHALE

Episode 2: The BLIND KEY

Episode 3: The SINGING LIGHTHOUSE

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