We love the renovated waterfront. But it often feels — how can we put this? — municipal. It's too concrete, too safe; very little of it feels like salty-dog San Francisco, with undulating docks you can stroll down amidst wharf thieves sleeping off morning hooch. Actually, we do have those docks, but they're all locked away in the harbors — except for one. After entering the lot at Pier 40, pivot south. A ramp leads to a dock that must be damn near a football field in length, end zones included. Primarily used to let customers access cruise boats, it's never less than dead quiet: nothing but a long, peaceful stretch with a couple of beat-to-shit vessel things, rigged with character. The water is just a foot beneath your feet, and we've had our way blocked by seals. It's the perfect, prerenovation detour from your regular concrete stroll.