Neo-Hippies Lounge by the Lake

There was a time a few decades ago when San Francisco was teeming with hippies, folkies, eccentrics and exhibitionists of all stripes. You couldn't walk a block of Haight Street without catching a waft of patchouli or picking up on the beat of mini bongoes. Over the years, the numbers of this contingent have dwindled so as to be almost just a memory, but recently they seem to be cropping up all over the place once again -- as evidenced by the turnout to this past weekend's Mission Lake Project Bike Race and BBQ.

The event was an effort by local art gallery Southern Exposure and some artists/organizers to raise awareness about the natural history of the Mission District. The centerpiece of the project, a large blue line traced the border of what used to be Lago Dolores, served as the route for a bike race, interrupted by scavenger hunt-like stops at key historical and geological sites.

When I arrived for the event, there they were, thronging in the Mission Playground on Valencia and 20th.

Hippies.

Or rather neo-hippies. Dozens of them. Expressing their individuality. Some half-clothed. Some with bulky backpacks. Some with children in tow. All bemoaning the onslaught of urban development.

I had been feeling the resurgence of the hippie in the last few years what with the renewed popularity of folk music brought on by Devendra Banhart, Vetiver, Espers, Joanna Newsom and others. But never before had I gazed in the face of the neo-hippie so directly.

There were the bicyclists clad only in tightie-whities who went by the tongue-in-cheek moniker Critical Ass. There was the hulking goon of a man -- who bore a striking resemblance to the mute sidekick of General Zod in Superman II -- all done up like a pompadoured bumblebee. There were the pair of Method-acting 'real estate agents' hawking fictional lakefront property. There was music, games for the kids and BBQ.

There was also, however, a noticeable dearth of pot-related odors, but no shortage of high spirits, Merry Prankster-esque behavior and general love and concern for one's brother -- the prototypical cornerstones of hippiedom that can so easily get under the non-hippie's skin. But strangely enough, it worked. It was a good time. A tasty one-dollar cheeseburger, cold beverage and long lounge on the grass later and I felt satisfied. Dead lake or no dead lake, it had been a pretty good day.