Neil Hopper had only a ghost of a game plan when he set out walking one Saturday. He wanted to cross the Los Angeles River on 6th Street. He thought he'd take in a stretch of Whittier Boulevard. He figured he'd then head to the industrial city of Vernon and wind up at its last wigwag, an old-time railroad signal.
Between river and wigwag, what he'd encounter would be mostly a mystery, which suited this urban adventurer just fine. The point of his walks, he said, is not to get somewhere:
"I like the spaces in between."
By 10 a.m., Hopper stood at the corner of Mateo and East 6th, waiting patiently for the traffic light to turn green. Then he stepped onto the bridge, arms gently swinging, feet slightly splayed -- a small, efficient-looking figure in crisp jeans, a long-sleeve button-down shirt and sensible brown leather walking shoes.
He bore sole witness to the shadows of blank-faced factories and warehouses, alone in a corner of downtown.
*
Hopper used to live like other people, in his own small slice of city. Safely sealed behind the wheel of his car, he traveled daily between his apartment and his job, traversing just one square mile of Hollywood.
Then, in 1999, the Red Line rolled into his neighborhood. Hopper hopped on and became an explorer.
Sure, he'd gone downtown before, when he had to, for jury duty. He associated it with white-knuckle driving, headachy parking, crowded courthouse waiting rooms.
Whisked to the city center sidewalks by subway, freed from staring at the car bumper in front of him, he noticed other things. He saw paint peeling on the facades of majestic old movie houses, formerly ritzy hotels housing bargain stores. He loved the crumble of it.
Soon he wondered what else he'd been missing.
"I asked myself, 'Is it possible for a normal, sedentary human being to walk 10 miles in the city?' "
To find out, he walked from Hollywood to downtown. He walked to Burbank and to Pasadena. He bought walking shoes and anti-blister socks and spent his weekends taking on El Monte, Alhambra, Hermosa Beach and Cypress Park. Drawn to the big streets that cut through the city, he checked out Slauson Avenue, Eagle Rock Boulevard, Imperial Highway, San Fernando Road. Commercial strips that drivers register as blurs became distinct to him. He noticed their details.
*
