As I drive my Honda Civic up the winding two-lane road into the Berkeley Hills, as I’ve done hundreds of times before, the fog wraps itself around the eucalyptus trees and road signs on either side of me. My internal compass guides me through the opaque late-morning view out my windshield — past cyclists, motorcycles, and sedans all jamming their way to the top.
We’re all headed to one of the greatest views in California: the outlook at Grizzly Peak.
The handful of unpaved outlooks on Grizzly Peak Boulevard sit at the crest of the Berkeley Hills, giving the most stunning views of the entire Bay Area. These outlets, scattered throughout a mile-long stretch, each equipped to hold dozens of cars, are bordered by graffiti-covered log barriers and a few grassy enclaves for minor exploring on foot, though a pedestrian wouldn’t stray much further given the steep descent of the hills into the chaparral and oak trees below.
The view here is mesmerizing in both fog and shine — bringing on a feeling of profound awe at the expanse in front of you. Every notable Bay Area landmark seen from a single vantage point; San Francisco appears as a castle floating in a cloud.
I’ve loved Grizzly Peak since my years at Acalanes High School in Lafayette, when I’d carpool with friends up Fish Ranch Road, blasting mix CDs and talking about the future, before the sun went down. I’d volunteer to drive a few friends in my Honda with the manual-crank windows, and would insist on playing Fleet Foxes, the perfect band for a wannabe Berkeley hippie driving toward the low sun, cresting through the golden hills on Highway 24 in the late afternoon.
Once we made it to the overlook, my friends and I would gather in the grassy areas behind the barricades to smoke weed, eat snacks, and discuss usual teenage things: homework, teachers, weekend plans to go ice-blocking, and quoting from last week’s episode of The Office. We were all in our senior and junior years, about to leave for college, and often discussed the uncertainty of it all, and what options we had. It was during these times of upheaval in our lives, that we’d take solace in the natural surroundings of our local Eden, a place that felt consistent, safe, and peaceful.
Public spaces like Grizzly Peak are vital to our community as great equalizers — a place where anyone can go to appreciate the view.
This spot became so sacred to me that I chose it for an assignment for film school in Southern California: Create a two-minute film about a place that inspires you, a place that shows the world who you are.
I spent hours here for the project, filming onlookers sitting on rocks and logs, watching photographers slowly waiting for the sun to move into just the right position. I saw a couple sitting in their car, eating from drive-thru bags and listening to the radio. There was an omnipresent gang of men on motorcycles, which in my 18-year-old eyes felt menacing. It’s a place of both familiarity and mystery. Visitors to Grizzly Peak are as diverse as those riding BART, people from every corner of the Bay Area and beyond stopping to appreciate the beauty around them. Whether it’s a newly married couple finishing a hike at Redwood Regional Park or friends who have driven up from Acalanes High School to hang out and eat Doritos. It’s a communal sense that we all appreciate and bask in our hometown.
Grizzly Peak’s lookout points have been in existence since the boulevard was constructed in the 1930s, created to protect the homes and stores against wildfires before they could sweep down through this delicate wilderness land.
The worst fire in recent history decimated the hills in 1991, sweeping the area just south of the Grizzly Peak lookout, destroying thousands of homes, and taking the lives of 25 people. In 2017, Grizzly Peak had to contend with an arsonist who set fire yards away from the lookout area that burned 20 acres, highlighting a lack of respect some onlookers have shown to the area, a litter of empty beer cans and stray clothing is a usual sight. It’s also been the site of fatal accidents over the years, with both drivers and hikers succumbing to the treacherous fall.
Even if those bridges and buildings do not fully break through, their towers and edges crest above our fantastic fog as if emerging from a calm sea.
Public spaces like Grizzly Peak are vital to our community as great equalizers — a place where anyone can go to appreciate the view. Here one can feel the communal spirit that drives the Bay Area, and the pride at gazing over the edge to see one’s neighborhood in the valley below.
This diversity of visitors is reflected in the landscape below the hills showing: UC Berkeley, the Richmond Bridge, the Golden Gate Bridge, San Francisco, Marin, the Bay Bridge, downtown Oakland, Lake Merritt, and the surrounding residential areas. Within that sight line live more than 1.5 million people. The marvel of seeing each of these impressive man-made wonders as one expansive tapestry is about as close to an establishing shot from a movie as you’ll get.
Last year, after my boyfriend casually suggested we go to my favorite spot after lunch in Oakland, he proposed to me at Grizzly Peak. We often killed time there on the afternoons, we’d drive up there when we needed to get out of the house. The mid-afternoon setting with traces of fog still resting on the hillside was the perfect mix of Bay Area weather. It was only us, and a lone nature photographer setting up a tripod to snap the fog rolling into the hillside, looking out at the vista when he got down on one knee. It was quiet and peaceful as we took in the panorama and our future.
Driving up the road together now, in the winter months, it feels just as magical as when we got engaged. Passing Tilden Park, and moving through the curves in the road can cause some anxiety in the wintertime with murky weather and less daylight, but my nerves relax when I see the first sliver of the bay-side view. Even if those bridges and buildings do not fully break through, their towers and edges crest above our fantastic fog as if emerging from a calm sea.
For me though, the most special time at Grizzly Peak, is any given sunny Saturday at twilight, where you can take in the sherbert-colored sunset as it descends over the San Francisco skyline next to an awed crowd of local residents and tourists. It’s a moment of quiet that reminds us of nature’s proximity to our urban landscape — and that it’s for all of us to enjoy.
