A Grand Journey or How We Learned to Accomplish Several Tasks in One Long Day

This was not a matter to be taken lightly. Great discourse and debate was needed to determine our destination. A very tall street, perhaps? No. Coit tower? No. And then, suddenly, an idea! Corona Heights is the formal name for the large (yet oddly obscured) hill next to the Randall Musuem. I had grown up a stone's throw away from the area and knew it to be a tall place. Leslie agreed. After a brief discussion of necessary footwear (in which I gave incorrect advice), we now had a point of direction for our expedition into The City.

The journey began in Berkeley despite the noteworthy fact that neither of us reside in the town. For reasons extraneous to the story, we drove to the BART station on Ashby street. Upon approaching the parking lot, we were confronted with a number of tents, men playing drums, and the thumping bass lines of one Biggie Smalls. The flea market, of course! We decided to park half a mile away and hike back towards the station. This was very fortunate as we came across a very interesting daffodil:



While unrelated to the task at hand, it was taken as a good omen. Not but 100 paces later we found wisdom inscribed on the very ground itself:



As we neared the BART station, I decided to document the beginning of our trek by capturing a street sign:



The minor travel events that followed are covered in another task (one of fortunes told!), so I will summarize them in words of six letters or less: BART, Powell, MUNI, Castro. Lo and behold, we have made it to 17th St. and Market:



At this point, we took charge up 17th St., remarking at its beauty. Having spent my childhood in this area, I decided to lead us through a secret shortcut to Corona Heights by means of a hidden staircase on Ord St. Upon reaching its end, I realized we could have taken a shorter staircase on a different street. Whoops.

We made our way to the Randall Museum playground and then up a winding ramp to the museum proper:



From there, we rounded the corner to catch the first glimpse of The City. I paused to take a picture while several children ran around shouting. Leslie told me that it was mildly creepy for an adult man to take a photo with a bunch of unrelated small children nearby, and I agreed. She placed herself in the picture to mitigate the creepiness factor:



We then rounded a corner and began hiking the mountain proper. Luckily, long sets of stairs provided assistance. I knew we were near the summit when I saw this sign (among other reasons):



We neared the peak only to discover there were already inhabitants! A couple in their late twenties had climbed the peak just before us and were enjoying a moment of Peace and Happiness. We waited for a while before attempting to hike. In the mean time, I surreptitiously photographed other passer-byers:



Finally, when we could wait no longer, we scaled the peak despite the couple's presence. They were only chatting, anyway. Leslie was first to claim victory over our task:



When finished, we exchanged congratulatory remarks and began the long descent home.