eighteenJuly 4, 1976, the Bicentennial.
There were parades in Golden Gate Park: marching bands, equestrian units, concerts, bag pipers in kilts, visiting sailors from Australia and Korea, a march by left-wingers protesting against the rich. Fireworks were scheduled to be launched from both Candlestick Park and Alcatraz Island. Twin Peaks was clearly the best vantage point, offering spectacular views of the City, but there were risks: snarled traffic, lack of parking, fog, wind and cold.
Robin, Mac, Joey and Sheila, emboldened by Thermos bottles filled with Irish coffee, parked as near as they could, and started walking. They found a hillside trail up through the brush and coastal scrub. It had steps made from wood blocks set into the earth. It was like climbing Everest, but they had come
