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It’s no secret that Los Angeles and I haven’t exactly been fast friends. I had only ever spent a brief few days in the city en route to a friend’s Palm Springs wedding when my dad announced his plan to move to the west coast around this time last year. My trip to visit over Father’s Day weekend confirmed what I’d suspected: I was underwhelmed by the sprawling, freeway-bloated city.
But as much as I didn’t like the city, I love my dad. I knew I wanted to spend a chunk of quality time with him and introduce him to Ian before we headed back to Thailand for the winter, and so I booked another flight to Los Angeles.
I figured it would be a low key week. Decompressing from Burning Man (I flew in directly from Reno), getting my camera gear cleaned (hence the amount of iPhone pics in this post), securing my visa for Thailand (always an adventure), and smothering my recently-relocated-to-the-west-coast pup Tucker with love (most important aspect).
And we did do all those things. But the universe had bigger plans. Long time readers might remember my friend Kat, who was my partner-in-crime a few years ago in excellent suggestion that I check out the yoga and wellness center The Springs.
Technically in the Arts District, , which my friend , where we snagged reservations at the greenhouse-encased , The Frank Lloyd Wright shrine my dad had tried to take my sister and I to over Father’s Day. This time, we found it open, and while I admit that I went along mainly to humor my dad, I truly enjoyed our tour of this historic Hollywood Boulevard home.
Bidding my dad goodbye and turning out of Barnsdall Art Park, we continued on to the hills of Griffith Park. I was a little wary about the whole adventure as my research led me to understand that it’s a controversial and confusing route to the top. After much research, we drive as far as we could up North Beachwood Drive, pointing our GPS towards Sunset Ranch Hollywood, which offers horseback rides to the sign. A private security guard at the gate turned us back and directed us where it was legal to park, which with the amount of cars lining the streets was about half a mile behind us. On the way back toward the gate we passed angry signs from residents warning us to not so much as at their homes or driveways. What a warm Hollywood welcome!
Once we were up in the canyon we started up the Beechwood Trail, which I knew mostly from Google Maps and the many articles we’d read in preparation and not from any signs on the actual path in front of us. Eventually we connected to the Mulholland Trail and eventually to the Mount Lee Access Road.
Finally, after a hot sweaty slog, we reached the back of the sign. I’ve never been so happy to see the back of a big white letter!
While we didn’t exactly have the place to ourselves, there was plenty of room for everyone to get their precious Hollywood sign selfies. There were even a group of off-duty (I hope!) firemen, who seemed giddy that they’d clearly used their official credentials to get their wheels on the access road everyone else has to walk up. But hey — they very kindly let Kat take silly photos with their firetruck, so no complaints from me.
I loved this adventure! And learning about the history of the Hollywood sign — rife with real estate drama, tragic suicide, and a side of Hugh Hefner — was almost as fun as getting to it.
Alright, LA. You finally got me hooked. I’m already looking forward to my next trip in June.
Okay, Los Angeles lovers! What do I need to check out next?
Source: alexinwanderland.com