Open Space in the City of Angeles

One of my many favorite things about the Bay Area is their Open Space. Not really parks, these are literally just open spaces. No houses, no buildings, just earth and sky to enjoy. I thought this was just a Northern California phenomenon.
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So I was surprised to see the wording right here, in the San Fernando Valley.

​Deervale-Stone Canyon Park is its proper name according to the makeshift sign. There were two entrances: one at the top and one at the bottom of the trail. The one at the top, and the source of the park’s namesake was just that: at the top. So I decided to follow some other folks’ suggestions to start at the bottom. There was some wording about not parking in front of private homes (which I assumed meant the entire street), so we parked a little further down the hill on a main street, and walked up the very steep road to where we came upon an open gate between two driveways: the super secret entrance to this open space.

Once inside, it was like stepping into another world. The hard packed earth was just a strip of non-grass like a zipper holding together two side of hillside meadow.

There was not a single soul around.

The climb was steep but traveled around the hill, blunting the effect of going straight up—even it was just psychologically.

Around the bend, we spied our first side views of the valley.

It’s impossible to capture in one frame.

There is even a bench to sit upon and contemplate.

The trail continued onward and upward. Very onward. And very upward.

Meadow to shade and meadow again, we passed by so many secret hiding spots. Mulberry bushes and cypress trees created these little caves one could sit beneath and imagine oneself far from civilization.

Houses were near, but not often in view.

I guess city folks have a hard time being without their buildings; half way up the trail, trailgoers have developed this Cairn City. Busses, toys, and other objects populate the stone urban center.

On the opposite side is one giant cairn with smiling face, as if looking out over the tiny city.

Shortly after this, a woman on her way down the steep hill told me she had just seen deer right here where I stood when she was on the way up.


As I looked out over the cavern, it was fascinating to realize that such large animals like deer could make their home here. They did not need to cross streets or go near human-dwellings. This was their open space.

When you live in towns around woods, deer, coyotes, and other wildlife is common. But it always comes a surprise in such a densely human-populated area. A friend told me of her neighbor’s spotting of P-55, the resident cougar in Griffith Park. We share this earth with so many different creatures, and we assume they are unlike us. But they are more like us than we care to think on. They too simply want to live in peace, have shelter, food, and friends. They love and live and grieve and fear just like we do.
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So when I picked up my backpack to see a millipede, while it startled me, I did not kill it or lash out in any way. (Although my instinctual scream may have inadvertently hurt its eardrums—if they have those.)

​My scream might have been louder, except I was still gasping for breath from the incredibly steep climb. I was surprised no one had installed a rope or other handrail to make it up. 

We rose to the occasion and I was pleased to see the trail somewhat level out. I could see the multi-million dollar homes up on the horizon; Deervale Street.

​When Tucker and I arrived at the end of the cul de sac, we took in the view. It certainly was a million dollar view looking out over the valley. While we didn’t earn a million bucks to get the view, I felt we earned it in the physical payout we gave to surmount the steep trail.

On our way back down, we took in the view more leisurely, catching every vantage point me could

And looking into those secret hideaways

Where trees could hold you in a loving embrace as you listened to the wind and took in the open space as other four legged and winged residents do.

I am grateful that the City of Angeles has set aside this open space—and that few people frequent it. A part of its specialness is that the number of humans at any given time is less than the number of deer, coyotes, and other wild beings who inhabit the space.

And so out of respect for those who live here, we will only return when our souls need this open space. For we have taken so much of the open land from our fellow earthly inhabitants here, we can at least leave them in peace as often as possible.