From Fort Scott west to Fort Miley and south to Fort Funston, a distance
of something over eight miles, there is a line of cliffs and beach that
is the ocean front of San Francisco. Driving up from the
eucalyptus-lined avenues of the Presidio along a road that reveals
perspectives of bay and hills, you come out upon the cliffs that form
the southern post of the Golden Gate and extend above the eastern and
southern shore of the outer harbor, with yellow beaches at their feet
and with homes, gardens and parks set along their edge.

From these cliffs is spread a vista of coast line and ocean with a sweep
that extends as far north as Point Arena and as far west as the Farallon
Islands, rugged points of rock reaching out of the ocean depths
twenty-three miles off shore, and as far south as the azure thrust of
Point Pedro.

Drifting along the cliff highway, which runs back of the fortifications
that defend the port of San Francisco, you drop down past the dirigible
hangar of the United States Army Flying Corps. You rise through Sea
Cliff, a residence section like a hanging garden over the ocean, and
come to Lincoln Park, where the flagstaff that marks the terminus of the
Lincoln Highway, the end of a transcontinental trail, is set.

Following now a detour through city streets, instead of the highway that
will soon traverse the cliffs, to the Cliff House, a resort foremost in
the written and pictured annals of San Francisco, you glimpse three
miles of sandy beach stretching southward to the jutting headlands of
Point Pedro and you drop down to the boulevard that flanks the
Esplanade, which the city is building as part of its playground plan.

Here is San Francisco's Little Coney Island, where the multitude comes