The US National Parks Service (or something sounding like that) has done its best to highlight Alcatraz island's past lives as a military fort in the Civil War and as an Indian protest camp.
Sadly noone really gives a shit and just wants to see where the Birdman lived and the cell Clint Eastwood escaped from. Having said that, it is a genuinely interesting tour - I'll give the Americans this, they do tourism very well and we were both pleasantly surprised. Alan was so surprised he went a bit mental and had to be locked down.
Did you know the Birdman never kept birds on Alcatraz? He kept them at Leavenworth before being moved to Alcatraz apparently. See, interesting.
Next stop Highway 1 and Santa Cruz. We were only on the one for a brief time, but got a taste of it. It seems majestic.
More silliness in Santa Cruz with the lovely Heather as she will forever now be known.
And some Americans called Craig and Mike. When we arrived in the bar Mike and Craig were well-oiled, but being American they were keen to here us talk, only then to talk alot about themselves. Turns out they'd been made redundant from Charles Schwab and were basically touring America's finest golf courses and drinking the finest tequila on the way.
Sadly for them they decided to teach me and Alan how to drink "American-style". An hour later they fell over each other on the way out of the bar.
When we left 20 minutes later we heard a voice calling out of the distance "Hey, guys", and there was the lovely Mike with his pal Craig face down in the road, "I can't get him up the hill, dudes, can you help me out?"
Of course we could, and we had time to take a picture of ourselves helping them too, cos they were too drunk to notice.
That'll learn 'em.
