I was a Haight-Ashbury kid. My parents moved there in the early 1970s, and I went to school on Haight Street. I played hoops in the Panhandle, ate burgers at the long-gone McDonald’s, and got my ass kicked on the corner of Haight and Lyon.

To get past the outer reaches of my neighborhood, and my imagination, my friends and I went high up the hill above Haight. Not to Buena Vista Park — back then it wasn’t a safe place to roam around. I’m talking about the next hill beyond.

Corona Heights had it all for us: rocks to clamber on, dirt to throw, a patch of grass for mud-splattered football games. But the crown jewel was the Dorothy Randall Jr. Museum. We simply called it the Junior Museum, because that’s what it was—for kids. Junior sized. A pocket oasis of science, nature, and cool stuff to make and build.

It’s still all that, although after a thorough makeover in 2017 it’s officially just the Randall. The city owns and runs it, and if you’re a kid, a teen, or even an adult, it’s got something for you, including a mini-zoo, metal shop, and art studios and maker classes, even a sprawling model railroad set.

But let’s put the museum aside for a moment. This is a column about getting out, not staying in. And Corona Heights is one of the city’s best outdoor destinations.

If you crave the dramatic, start at the park’s west entrance at the corner of Roosevelt Avenue and Museum Way. You’ll see a nice-enough opening scene: the aforementioned patch of grass, now named after gay activist Bill Kraus, a popular dog run on the left, and paths that lead east. Take the left-most path, past the dog run. (You could go to the right and up up up, but let’s save the highest heights for last.)

Just past the dog run, keep your eyes peeled for a small hiking sign.

This is your first semi-secret pleasure of the outing: a five-minute single-track trail that feels a bit like the Pinnacles for its outcrops and sheer drops. Down you go, and the switchback trail deposits you behind tennis courts and a few houses.

(Side note: Part of the deliciousness of Corona Heights, like so many city treks, is peeking down at backyards, roof decks, and patios to see how everyone’s living these days. Around this posh neighborhood, the answer is usually not bad at all.)

Head out to 15th Street and walk downhill to Beaver Street. A quick right, then another a few houses in, and you’ll be face-to-face with one of the city’s most stunning faces: a sheer, shimmering rock wall that’s properly known as a slickenside. This rare, polished formation occurs when two parts of a fault rub together — yes, Corona Heights is on a fault. As this geologist noted a few years ago, “it’s an extraordinary example of an oblique slip fault, cutting cherts of the Franciscan complex.”

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(Fans of this column might remember our excursion to nearby Tank Hill and its similar abundance of Franciscan chert, which was formed at the bottom of the sea long before you were born.)

It’s extremely rare to find this much slickenside exposed. In fact, this is one of the world’s largest examples, ours to admire thanks to the quarrying of past generations.

You might spot rock climbers making their way to the top. You might meet geologists in rapture.

Just beyond, at the base of the cliff, you’ll see an old school playground and a nursery school that always make me a little anxious, thinking of the inevitable Big One that could bring the slickenside and other parts of Corona Heights crashing down.

Head back out to Beaver Street and continue up to the bend. It’s time for the second semi-secret treat: De Forest Way. It’s an alley just a few houses long, and it’s a misnomer. It should have been De Garden, because as you emerge at the eastern base of Corona Heights, there’s a private but very visible and whimsical garden to your right. San Francisco: It’s so damn charming.

Head up to the tennis courts (different from the ones before) and wind around the base of the hill. Past the courts, you’ll see a large lawn that’s used as a dog run (yep, different from the one before), a basketball court, and a playground. All well and good, but if you’re here at the right time of year, you might find a snack too.

Look for the community garden at the edge of the lawn. It faces south, with a sparkling (or perhaps fog-shrouded) view of Twin Peaks, Eureka Valley, the Castro Theater, and Liberty Hill. Just outside the garden fence, there are trees, including a couple figs. Unlike the garden plots, they don’t seem to belong to anyone, so if it’s the season, take a bite.

With your blood sugar rising again, it’s time to climb. Behind the playground bathrooms, head up the steep walkway and feel the burn. Stop for a breath and turn around for exquisite city panoramas, then emerge at the Randall Museum. Don’t miss the mesmerizing wind sculpture on the side of the building that faces the parking lot. Hopefully the weather will oblige — up here, windless days are rare.

The museum’s front door is to your right, presiding over a garden. Tempting as it is, come back later. Let’s keep walking. Circle the building away from the parking lot. You’ll feel like you’re leaning out over the Castro and Mission districts from this vantage. Play spot-your-friend’s-apartment, then get your calves fired up again. The vista de resistance awaits.

As you circle to the northeast side of the museum, you might spot an unusual number of bees in the air. They’re part of the Randall’s eccentric zoo, with a hive inside and a pipe sticking out of the wall for access. (Bonus Get Out Now! points if you can find the pipe.) Let’s keep going.

With the heights looming to your left, the trail dips down and reaches a fork. The tennis courts are downhill; take the stairs up. And up. And up. They wind toward the peak, which by altitude isn’t even in SF’s top 10. (Your legs and lungs will be skeptical.) You can stop for a moment to peer over the side of the slickenside from here, if your vertigo allows. Then keep pushing. There’s a surprising amount of nooks and crannies up top to explore, and 360 degrees of city gazing to indulge your inner tourist.

Like the best of San Francisco’s attractions, I can never get enough.

When you’re ready to roll, you can complete your loop by heading west, down a more gentle staircase than the one that came up from the museum, back to the Bill Kraus Meadow and the Roosevelt Way entrance. Or you can find a couple alternate routes on either side. Geologists and the people who love them will enjoy the quarry remnant on the north slope.

If you’re not ready to stop, Buena Vista Park and its surprisingly complex network of trails is a few minutes’ walk. Mount Olympus, the geographical center of the city, is also close by, as are the explorer’s delight of tiny bending streets and staircases that overhang Eureka Valley. But let’s save those for another column.

If you’re in search of refreshment, you have to head downhill. Roosevelt turns into 14th Street and crosses Castro, which is where you’ll find Courtney’s, a green grocer that also sells cheap, delicious, premade (and handmade) sandwiches, and plenty of snacks and beverages. Duboce Triangle is just beyond, and the Castro has plenty of food options. If you can’t get enough of vintage streetcars, grab a sidewalk table at Cafe de Casa next to the terminus at Market and Castro and watch the world go by.

If Muni is your thing, Corona Heights is about a 15-minute walk, straight up hill, from Castro Street Station and several Metro lines. The 24 and 37 buses will get you fairly close too. You can drive to the Randall Museum parking lot at the end of Museum Way, or you can find street parking near the various entrances.

Alex Lash is editor in chief of The Frisc. If you’ve got an idea for a Get Out Now! adventure, email him at alex AT thefrisc dot com, or DM him on Twitter.

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Editor and founder of The Frisc. Grew up in the Haight and in SF public schools. Past journalistic lives include biotech, health, tech, and baseball.