When I left the Bay Area after four beautiful years, I left my heart not in San Francisco, but in the heart-shaped labyrinth in the Oakland Hills.
The Labyrinth is a small, slightly squashed, heart-shaped labyrinth of stones hidden at the bottom of an abandoned quarry pit in the Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve, one of the crown jewels of the East Bay Regional Park System.
Sibley is just a 15-minute drive from downtown Oakland, but feels like a whole other world.
In winter the lush green hills feel like Scotland, covered in mist and dotted with cows. But unlike Scotland, the air smells of eucalyptus and Monterey pine, with occasional hints of sea breeze from San Francisco Bay below.
In spring, poppies and lupins bloom like weeds and color the steep slopes colorfully. (More than 90 species of wildflowers call Sibley home.) Checkered butterflies flit overhead, dozens per minute during their peak migration.
And in summer, like true California girls, the hills bleach blonde and tan their once green grasses in the Sunshine State’s powerful sun (along with any hiker without SPF) until the winter rains and fog return.
During my life in Oakland, I hiked Sibley at least a hundred times, sometimes five or six times in a week. It was the closest unfenced dog run to my house, perfect for Juno (and me) to let off steam after a cramped day of screens in our San Francisco office. No matter how stressful the work was or how crowded the city below was, by sunset we always had the summit to ourselves.
(Sibley really is a dog’s best friend. Sitting on the hill on a summer Saturday, you might see a half-dozen unleashed dogs running freely down the path and across the meadows with no owners in sight, creating the brief illusion that Sibley is a park where wild dogs are free to frolic without human interference.)
From Round Top, the summit of the extinct volcano that gives Sibley Volcanic Park its name, we watched dozens of nighttime explosions in the sky—some of the most beautiful sunsets I’ve ever seen, in a state spoiled with spectacular sunsets.
From there, you can see all of Oakland and Berkeley’s lights, from the redwood-lined University of California campus down to the bustling harbor. But you can also catch a glimpse of the bridge bracelets that connect Oakland to San Francisco and the golden hills beyond, reflected in the shimmering waters of the bay.
Red brake lights on the Oakland Bridge, the glittering silver of the San Francisco skyline, gold headlights on the Golden Gate and just beyond, rays of light hitting the Pacific… all visible from a grassy hill above the heart-shaped labyrinth.
Ah yes. The heart-shaped labyrinth!
Where can I find the heart-shaped labyrinth?
There are so many trails at Sibley Volcanic Regional Preserve, zigzagging in so many directions, that most people completely miss the labyrinths—even though there are at least five.
My personal favorite maze, the heart-shaped one, is about a mile from the Sibley location. Start on the path to the right of the restrooms when you see them from the parking lot.
After about 15 meters you will reach the sign “Dogs are not allowed to be kept on a leash” – hurray! – and know that you are on the right path.
Continue following the paved path until you see a cattle gate and go through it. Make sure to close the gate behind you. From here it’s gravel and dirt.
When you reach a fork in the road, turn right onto Quarry Trail. You’ll see geological marker #4 (the full self-guided geological tour can be found here) and then the labyrinth!
The heart tends to get muddy after a rainstorm, as all fragile hearts do, but it never stays that way for long. Someone always comes by to fix it.
If you wish, you can descend to the bottom of the quarry and walk through the labyrinth yourself, in meditation or prayer. It won’t be long, so you can stop to compare the small offerings of previous visitors with the huge silhouette of Mount Diablo in the background.
Where can I find the Mazziarello labyrinth?
The largest and most famous labyrinth in the Oakland Hills is the Mazzariello Labyrinth, created in 1990 by artist Helena Mazzariello as a “gift to the world.”
It inspired several smaller copycat labyrinths around Sibley, such as the heart-shaped labyrinth in which walkers meditate and leave small talismans or prayers in the center.
There are at least five separate labyrinths in Sibley visible on Google Earth, although I only discovered four while hiking. (The last one could now be overgrown or washed away by mudslides: on the way down from a hike in Sibley we had to stop more than once while road crews cleared a small mudslide from the road.)
The Mazzariello Maze can be found on Google Maps, which makes it a little easier to find. You can start on the same path you took to the heart-shaped labyrinth, but turn towards Round Top Trail earlier.
A love letter to Sibley
As I mentioned before, I visited the heart-shaped labyrinth at least a hundred times when I lived in California between the ages of 23 and 27. Like most people in their mid-20s, it was the best of times and it was the worst of times. I had friends I loved most and jobs I hated most and the insecurity and self-doubt of many hikes cured by moving meditation.
Juno and I visited Sibley in Mother Nature’s every mood and my every mood. When I was exhausted and burned like the burnt grass, when I was as calm and still as eucalyptus leaves dripping after the rain, when I was radiant and joyful like a fresh-faced California poppy opening to the sun.
I would look down at the San Francisco skyline from the top of Round Top. If I squinted, I could see my office building, at least until the massive Salesforce Tower (which I saw rise out of nowhere over the course of three years to become the tallest building in the city) appeared in front of it.
I would stare down at the city, so small from 10 miles across a bay, and fear that next time I would have to take an underwater train and an elevator to the 8th floor to get to my desk. I wish I could stay up there forever, with the soft grass and the wildflowers and Juno, until the blue sky fades into a perfect, saturated sunset, the lights twinkle over the sea, and Juno howls at the moon.
Afternoon a Hill, Edna St. Vincent Millay
I will be the happiest thing
Under the sun.
I will touch a hundred flowers
And don’t choose one.
I’ll look at cliffs and clouds
With calm eyes,
Watch the wind bend the grass down,
And the grass rises.
And when lights start to show
Up from the city,
I’ll mark what must be mine,
And then it starts.
Note: Sibley is one of the best places near San Francisco to watch the sunset, but beware of mountain lions! We never saw one, but definitely heard one – and Juno once found what was most likely a mountain lion lair with a half-eaten deer carcass.
Questions about visiting the heart-shaped labyrinth in the hills of Oakland? Let me know below!
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