It is 11:30am on a sometimes cloudy, and then strikingly sunny, Sunday morning. I am fast walking my way around the lake, as people with oars and sleek, narrow boats ply the deeper waters while ducks, egrets, and herons bob, dip, and wade on the shallow edges. Framed by I-80 on one end and a fairly busy active railroad line on the other, the Berkeley Aquatic Park is not exactly an oasis of calm, nor an entirely safe space where can let down your urban alertness level. Serenity comes suddenly at such moments, surprising you when you least expect it. Walking on cracked pavement accompanied by car, truck, and train traffic and caught up in a mix of flower scents, diesel exhaust, and decomposing trash and human waste, I stumble upon an unlikely pathway that leads me to a particular place of peace. No, it's not a redwood canyon, nor a snow-covered road in the mountains. It isn't an untrammeled field of wildflowers or a windswept ocean bluff where flocks of brown pelicans pass by on unseen currents of air, but the underlying, bruised-but-not-broken beauty of this reclaimed urban space cannot be denied.
For the most part, this is a functional city park, where dogs on leashes drag their humans around the lake, where children hold hands with their sleep-deprived parents, where joggers jog and bikers bike and rowers row and the temporarily transient seek out semi-hidden sanctuary to sleep or recover from a previous night's high.
It is almost 3 miles, the paved walkway that frames the lake itself, which is brown and murky and filled with ample rains from a wet winter. Poppies and geraniums bloom next to the wall and fence that partially shields the persistent traffic on the interstate, but nothing really blocks out the blaring sounds of the trains passing on the other, more developed side, where there is a disc golf course, a children's playground, men's and women's public restrooms (not spotless, but not a superfund cleanup site, either), a bicycle and boat rental space, and even a cafe and coffee shop with outdoor seating.
This day, the park is showing itself at its Sunday best, which means that you can see Tamalpais across the bay, and the East Bay Hills are emerald green, and bees are collecting pollen from blooming, sweet-smelling flowers, and the traffic on I-80 is actually moving rather than stuck in place. I don't gaze out on a godlike face here on this Sunday spring morning, but perhaps someone is gazing back at me, a fleeting reflection in a flat expanse of water, a lone walker out for an impromptu stroll while waiting for the time to pass, a visitor to a public space who does not feel lost, or lonely, or unlucky to be alive.
Parks come in many forms, and the Aquatic Park is one of the them: unadorned, yet attractive; exposed to the elements without inspiring unnecessary fear; protected enough that pedestrians need not worry about dodging dangerous traffic; and real, urban, and gritty enough to remind you that not all that glitters in this city is Californian gold. With extremely public places like this, perception is half the battle. And today at least, as the sun emerges from a passel of clouds and shines and sparkles on these dark but shimmering waters, I'd say that this morning's battle resoundingly has been won, and that all who visited Berkeley's Aquatic Park are victors, in their own enigmatic and deeply personal ways. Who are you, gentle Yelp reader, to judge this park or this particular patch of people otherwise? read more