Friday, March 29

The origins of San Francisco’s weirdest Bay to Breakers tradition


There are few things San Francisco loves more than a weird race. Be it with soapbox cars, big wheels or snakes, the city has a mild obsession with the fast and curious, which might be best exemplified by the Bay to Breakers footrace.

Each year since 1912 (not counting 2020 and 2021), thousands of runners have participated in the 12-kilometer dash starting at Howard and Main streets and ending at Ocean Beach. It’s a race, sure, but it’s really more of a party, with most runners putting more effort into building costumes than training to improve their finish time. Like SantaCon, it serves as an excuse to day drink, with the race route turning into a party and many participants testing their alcohol tolerance in addition to endurance.

Recent news about the organizers of Bay to Breakers making donations to controversial politicians and refusing to award nonbinary runners (which was reversed after public outcry) has put its quirky identity into question, but there’s still a strong contingent of participants keeping the original spirit of the event — and today, they’ll be wearing salmon suits.

The swarm of fish takes a moment to dance during Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on May 21, 2017.

The swarm of fish takes a moment to dance during Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on May 21, 2017.

SFGate / Douglas Zimmerman

One of Bay to Breakers’ most beloved traditions is the salmon run, in which a contingent of costumed fish literally goes against the stream by running the opposite direction of the race, relishing in the ridiculousness of the concept and collecting high-fives along the way. The idea was started in 1994 by the Cacophony Society, a loose band of absurdists that evolved from the San Francisco Suicide Club.

“The Cacophony Society is a randomly gathered network of free spirits united in the pursuits of experiences beyond the pale of mainstream society. And you may already be a member,” says Michael Mikel, who has been a part of the group since 1986 and co-founded Burning Man.

Although never as extreme as the Suicide Club (they weren’t climbing atop the Golden Gate Bridge to picnic), the Cacophony Society’s street theater antics and absurd traditions are the stuff of legend, with some of their most notable ideas like SantaCon and Burning Man turning into worldwide phenomena. Cacophony Society member Rob Schmitt was part of the team that conceived the first salmon run.

“I saw Bay to Breakers like a major river flowing through the city,” says 56-year-old Schmitt, who was also on the original Burning Man team and lives in what he refers to as “Ukraine Hill.” “I was up in Marin County with this girl, and she’s pointing out that the salmon run up this river every once in a while. Driving back in my car, I was thinking, we should run like salmon.” Although Schmitt had the Eureka moment, he stresses that the run has always been a team effort, and credits Annie Coulter as a co-founder.

The informal group meets at the top of the Hayes Street hill near Alamo Square Park to hand out costumes, then casually jogs against the crowd, stopping at bars along the way. The most ambitious fish eventually end up at the race starting line, where they lay down on the ground in a pile to simulate spawning. Although the whole schtick is a simple gag, it blew people away the first year.

A group of spawning salmon walks against the steam of runners on Howard Street during Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on Sunday, May 15, 2011.

A group of spawning salmon walks against the steam of runners on Howard Street during Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on Sunday, May 15, 2011.

Douglas Zimmerman/Courtesy to the SF Gate

“The first time, people were shocked! ‘You’re going the wrong way!’” says Mikel. “It was just so funny. And then people would expect us, a lot of people doing high-fives. There were a few people that were a little upset; usually that was the more serious runners. Everyone who was dressed up in something outrageous just loved it.”

The original salmon suits were made for $9 each using off-the-roll outdoor carpet from Home Depot and spray paint. The costumes extend high above the wearer’s head, so that incoming runners can see them above the crowd.

The school spawning salmon heads under a limbo stick while heading against the crowd at Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on May 19, 2013.

The school spawning salmon heads under a limbo stick while heading against the crowd at Bay to Breakers in San Francisco on May 19, 2013.

Douglas Zimmerman/SF Gate

Hallie McConlogue, a 55-year-old virtual reality designer, found the event in the early 2000s via the Squid List. After being gifted a squid suit for her first run, she became an unofficial costume maker for the event, creating 60 via assembly line and bringing them to the race to hand out to strangers recruited to join in the upstream antics. She’s sitting this year out due to COVID concerns but is still a big advocate for the idea.

“I just thought it was really, really cool to get cheered and high-fived for being weirder than everybody else,” says McConlogue. “For an extrovert, this is candy on an epic scale. It’s better than performing to 50,000 people, because they’re in your face with all this happiness. I think it’s worth 12 years of therapy for anyone who doesn’t know how to take in acknowledgment for being different or weird.”

Over the years, the ingenuity of the salmon run has left its mark on popular culture, with brands co-opting the concept. Nike reportedly staged its own salmon runner photo shoot for a billboard campaign, and Bacardi re-created the concept during the NYC Marathon for its own commercials. Although some might feel sour or even litigious about gigantic companies profiting off their joke, Schmitt laughed it off.


“The thing is, we’re an art group; we don’t care,” says Schmitt. “We didn’t sue them; we didn’t ask for money. We didn’t care, because we get what we need out of this. We’re not doing it for money; we’re doing it for fun.”

Although it’s hard to imagine someone taking issue with such an innocuous prank, the group has had some pushback over the years, which is usually taken in stride (literally).

“Sometimes, whoever organizes the event tells the security people to get the salmon off the route. They’ve just been told what to do, so basically, we ignore them,” McConlogue says. “But the cops, we do whatever they say. Then walk further down the route and go about our business.”

Princess Leia high-fives the spawning fish during Bay to Breakers on Howard Street on May 20, 2018.

Princess Leia high-fives the spawning fish during Bay to Breakers on Howard Street on May 20, 2018.

Douglas Zimmerman

In addition to just collecting high-fives and having a good laugh, Schmitt hopes that the event will inspire more people to start projects in the same spirit as the Cacophony Society and help keep the weird spirit of San Francisco thriving.

“If somebody sees the salmon running upstream, it puts something in their head to think, oh, I could do something like this. That’s one of the things I love about San Francisco,” Schmitt says.

Also Read  Kings bolster their playoff chances with 2-1 victory over Blue Jackets

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *