Sunshine in February means one simple thing to me: Go outside no matter what.
I don’t care that Los Angeles is sunny most months out of the year. I don’t care that weather like this will be even more constant come the spring and summer months. The novelty of 75 degree days in the middle of the winter simply has not worn off, and taking advantage of said weather struck me as essential this past weekend.
The funny thing is that I don’t think the novelty has worn off for most people in Los Angeles either. At least it certainly doesn’t seem that way, judging from the number of people walking and running through Runyan Canyon, a curving park of walking trails that snakes through the Hollywood Hills.
As in any big city, attempting to escape loud noise, traffic and the smell of gasoline seems a near impossibility. Runyan Canyon, however, tucked up in the Hills paralleling Mulholland Drive, provides an escape from Los Angeles’s less than pedestrian-friendly city streets. What Runyan Canyon does not provide an escape from, however, are the Angelenos themselves.
Upon first hearing about Runyan Canyon, I assumed it a simple paved path, mostly because I feel like nothing in Los Angeles grows naturally anymore or is unpaved. So, of course, I donned a simple pair of jeans and enough sense to at least wear sneakers rather than flip-flops. Because that should be the right apparel for a simple casual stroll, right?
Well, no. As soon as I stepped onto the dusty, tree-lined path, I noticed that everyone looked dressed for the gym with track pants, biker shorts and tank tops. Many (including women) even ran shirtless, providing the opportunity to show off gym-accumulated six-pack abs.
Runyan Canyon diverges onto two separate paths: One immediately goes downhill and one goes immediately up. I later learned that the downhill path also forks into two separate routes, leading to different hilltop view end points. Of course, my ultimate goal was just to get to the top of any cliff for inevitably killer view of downtown Los Angeles below.
After seeing how everyone else was dressed, though, I perhaps would have initially made the wiser and more sensible choice to, you know, take the downhill route first with all of the unleashed dogs and (yes, unleashed) children. But perhaps I was inebriated by too much sunshine and gung-ho ambition and decided that, heck, I can start off strong with a mean, steep, uphill path. I want to see Los Angeles! I mean, it couldn’t be steeper than Bruin Walk, right?
Well, it may not have been steeper, but it felt significantly more strenuous in the heat and with the lack of traction on my flat-soled sneakers. I attempted to roll up the cuffs of my jeans to at least fashion a pair of capris, but I still never quite felt as legitimately athletic as anyone else around me. Not only that, but I felt unquenchably thirsty and debated whether to lap up water trickling down from the dog water fountain near the front of the park.
What kept me going, however, were the conversations I’d overhear as I walked:
“I talk to a lot of publicists, and this one PR girl just drove me nuts.”
“With whatever movie Erin does, he buys crazy amounts of space.”
“I looked around and there was Zac Efron behind me!”
It was a day where my stereotypes were simultaneously defied and confirmed. A poster on a tree offered $7,000 for a missing male yorkie. No questions asked. Another poster advertised a “professional” dog walker, pictured smiling under the Beverly Hills sign. A group of friends lamented the cover price of an elite club. A woman with streaked, straightened blond hair complained to her girlfriend about missing the gym for a whole entire day.
But at the same time, a mother and daughter pair strolled together discussing the meal they were going to make for their next family gathering. A couple jogged together breathlessly trying to debate environmental policy. An elderly man walked by himself, his backside dusty from falling (I felt for him; I managed to slip on a slope and dirty my own jeans.), but appearing happy, healthy and content.
Upon reaching one of the tops of Runyan Canyon, Los Angeles appeared below me, a stretched, shimmering panorama of cityscape oasis. Each car looked like a bead strung through the city streets, sparkling and contributing to a sprawling, metropolitan masterpiece. I felt a simultaneous distance and closeness to the city in front of me.
While the buildings, the street and the noise were all far, a cross-section of Los Angeles surrounded me, laughing, chugging down water bottles, or simply sitting and looking out at the view. In that moment, the other walkers and I were part of this sunshiny L.A. experience together, simply enjoying where we were and what was in front of us.
If you think hiking in Los Angeles is an oxymoron, then e-mail Cohn at jcohn@media.ucla.edu.