Stairway to heaven awaits at scenic site
For the first time in recent memory, my birthday fell on the day of the time change. As my dad put it in a FaceTime call the day before: “This means you’re going to lose an hour of your birthday. You’ll only have 23 hours.”
Hello, officer?
I’d like to report the theft of one hour of my birthday. Yes, I’ll hold.
Incidentally, my ever-organized parents had already turned their clocks ahead on Saturday evening to get used to the new time. When we got off the call, I did the same. That saved me a few minutes of effort on my birthday morning. But not a full hour.
I got up early and hit the 10 Freeway for an appointment. After a half hour of driving and vague musings, the obvious thought occurred to me: “Hey, it’s my birthday.” I smiled. Perking up, I hit the play button on my CD player, picking up where I had left off on a doo-wop compilation.
And in one of life’s small but remarkable coincidences, the next track was “16 Candles” by the Crests, which begins with a soaring, solo voice: “Happy birthdayyy…happy birthday, baby, oooh, I love you so.”
Once I collected myself, I started the track over from the beginning and sang along.
I was headed for a 9 a.m. meet-up with a friend at the Culver City Stairs. We were both on time despite having to spring forward.
Do you know about these stairs? They’re a popular workout and sightseeing spot. The 282 steps set into a hillside lead directly to the Baldwin Hills Scenic Overlook, a park that offers a panoramic view of the
L.A. basin.
The steps are purposely steep and uneven, resembling ancient ruins unearthed during a dig. Made from recycled concrete, they opened to the public in 2009, which is only ancient to a teenager.
My friend had taken the stairs a couple of times, but not since their recent makeover that included the welcome addition of cables as a railing. I knew the stairs only by reputation.
We started up. The stairs range in height from 3 inches to nearly 2 feet. Sometimes it was possible to step from one to the next. Other times taking a step in between was required.
It was about half and half for me. My friend usually had to take that extra step. “These stairs are not made for people with short legs,” she joked. To my left, a woman of supermodel height passed, taking long strides up the stairs, seemingly without effort.
The cables were a big help in this climb, providing something to hold onto or steady myself by. I’d have struggled getting to the top without them.
A dirt trail rounds the hill a few times, like the paved paths at Riverside’s Mount Rubidoux. Each crossing created a landing and allowed for a break.
I got to the summit first. Well, long after the supermodel, but a couple of minutes before my friend. We’d made a reputed 715foot elevation gain, a little shy of Rubidoux’s 780 feet. Except nobody goes straight up the side of Rubidoux.
“Those cables were really useful,” I remarked. “Although I probably have COVID all over my hands.”
We took in the view: the downtown L.A. skyline, the San Gabriel Mountains, the Hollywood sign, Century City and Santa Monica. The Pacific was visible if you squinted.
After a stop at the restrooms, we started down the dirt trail. This route took us past two official state signs about the recent improvements to the Scenic Overlook, a California state park. The work was funded by Proposition 68. The secretary of the Natural Resources Agency, Wade Crowfoot, has his name attached.
So does another state official familiar to readers of this column: “Gavin Newsome, Governor.”
Yes, even a California government sign misspells Newsom’s name.
The Riverside family with the homemade “Newsome” sign is in good company.
(This typo may lend credence to one reader’s theory that the “Newsome” targeted by many of the governor’s critics is indeed a different person, one whose portfolio is now revealed to include the state parks system.)
Our walk over, we each drove to meet two more friends for an outdoor lunch in neighboring Crenshaw at Hotville Chicken. That’s a Nashville hot chicken restaurant that’s related by family to the most famous Nashville purveyors of the dish.
Just as I’d known the stairs only by reputation, it turned out I was the only one in the group that had never been to Hotville, and it was my pick for my birthday meal. I had some hot chicken catching up to do.
Is there anything more SoCal, by the way, than three people from the
San Fernando Valley and one person from the Inland Empire converging in South L.A.?
The four of us had last gotten together for my 2020 birthday, just as the situation was beginning to look serious and other friends canceled. That outing proved to be the last day we could have had a restaurant meal for some time.
It was also the meal at which one friend asked me brightly but incongruously, “What are your plans for this year?” Thankfully I didn’t have any. The subject didn’t come up this time.
A Sunday lunch meant we missed the reopening of indoor dining in L.A. County by one day. But being outdoors was fine for the four of us: mask-wearing, socially distanced sorts, from a total of three households.
Lunch — a hot chicken sandwich, kaleslaw, mac and cheese, and fries for me — was superb. One friend brought homemade apple hand pies in honor of Pi Day.
Afterward, the stairs friend left and the remaining three of us did a short walking tour of nearby Leimert Park, where the weekend street fair was in full swing and a sort of friendly chaos predominated.
From there, I headed toward home on the 10 Freeway. When my CD ended, somewhere past the junction with the 710, I played “16 Candles” again: “Happy birthdayyy, happy birthday, baby…”
For a birthday in the time of coronavirus — my second — it was pretty good. I’d got in some exercise, spent time with friends, eaten a delicious lunch and seen the Culver City Stairs and Leimert Park, two interesting places.
And it was only 2 p.m. My birthday might be only 23 hours, but I was making them count.