I get asked all the time how my little boutique residential design firm from Calgary, Alberta ended up opening an office in the San Francisco Bay Area. Before I answer that, I thought it would be fun to share a very un-architectural (and kind of embarrassing) story, for a little background and context.

In late spring, when I was 15 years old, I ran away from home. Which is much crazier to think about now that I have a son who recently turned 15… Yikes, he's still so little! For about as long as I can remember, I dreamed of going to California, so a friend and I came up with a plan to get there. It seemed simple enough; we’d just take a train!

Before I go on, I have to say to anyone reading this, please don’t ever try any of what I’m about to describe! In the tiny town of Armstrong, BC, where I grew up, a train used to come through town at about 10:30pm every night. Perhaps it still does. It slowed enough as it passed by that we were able to sprint alongside, grab the ladder, jump with all our might, and pull ourselves up top. Just like the movies!

For the first minute or so we felt just like James Bond, running along the top of the train, and even jumping, albeit more tentatively than 00-7, from one car to the next. But only for a minute or so. I now know from personal experience that as a train picks up speed there is a shocking amount of movement on top, swaying dramatically from side to side and bumping along unexpectedly. And the wind gets so strong that jumping into it with an expectation of any forward momentum becomes very literally impossible for a kid barely over 100lbs. After perhaps a mile aboard, it became all but futile to so much as walk upright, let alone jump from car to car. Another mile and, on hands and shaking knees now, I started to secretly wonder about the wisdom of what we’d gotten ourselves into, quickly realizing that the thrill of riding on top of a train, twisting through the Rocky Mountains at speeds of up to 60mph (97km/h) on the Class 4 track, isn’t well portrayed in Hollywood. In fact, it’s not “just like the movies” at all.

Tip one: Tunnels are terrifying. Lying flat on your back in absolute darkness, you can’t tell at all how much space there is between the tip of your nose and the ceiling beams hurtling past, directly above. But they sounded very close indeed, and that sound became all-encompassing. The ghastly swish-swishing , almost deafening to our heightened senses. For what seemed like forever we didn’t dare so much as flinch, as color drained from faces and we silently prayed to God not to get swept off the top by the next one.

Tip two: Late spring in southern British Columbia is truly stunning, with beautiful blue skies, flowers in full bloom and daily high temperatures approaching 70 degrees (21 Celsius). But, in the middle of the night, the lows still can drop below 40 (4 Celsius). We hadn’t taken that into consideration, with the selection of our light spring jackets and baggy shorts. The added adrenaline alone did not adequately offset the 60mph induced wind chill for long. Finding some shelter between the cars, with the railroad ties rushing past in unforgiving view, is no less nerve-racking. So, with freezing fingers nearly devoid of feeling, we painstakingly made our way down and then quickly back up the ladders, slowing creeping our way back to a lumber car we'd spotted with a little depression to hide in. Hopefully my friend doesn't ever find this blog, because we vowed to never speak of this… but between those rows of 2x4's we may have... well, cuddled. For warmth. But just a little.

After a few hours, the train eventually did start to slow somewhat as we approached a large city. Ahead we could see the train yard lit up, it seemed to us, like noonday sun. And we both could swear to see railroad police waiting for us to get there. Someone must have seen us! Or so we thought, at least. If we knew one thing for certain, though, it was this: we did not want to get caught by railroad police! In a flash, freezing fingers were all but forgotten. The mere sight of that bright train yard was suddenly more frightening to us than even the tunnels had been. If we hadn’t realized it already, it became painfully obvious now that we were not going to make it to California on top of a train. We had to jump, and we had to do it well in advance of reaching that menacing yard. Which meant that the train would still be moving. And quickly at that!

Tip three: Jumping from a moving train is also not as depicted in cinema. First of all, train tracks don’t generally get laid on top of nice soft grass. That would have been so much better! No, instead of grass, railroad ties are laid on crushed granite, trap rock, or limestone. And it’s jagged, not smooth or forgiving. Not at all. After first throwing our backpacks, we jumped for our lives out into the darkness. Another important lesson came here; albeit a lesson I've never needed to draw on since. Moving your legs and arms in the air in a sprinting motion as fast as you can, so that you can hit the ground already running, surprisingly, does nothing. The very instant sneakers made contact with ground, they seemed ripped out from under us, causing us to bounce uncontrollably down a small embankment away from the tracks like a couple of rag dolls. I don’t know how fast that train was still moving when our feet left the small metal platform between those cars, but whatever the speed, my friend’s momentum was abruptly stopped by an unforgiving fir tree, and mine by a prickle bush that I will not soon forget. It was no less comforting than the tree, let me assure you. Thus my first attempt to alight in California came rather abruptly to a bumpy end, with my ego as bruised as my body, and my unbelievably patient dad rescuing two sheepish vagrants in Vancouver.

It would take six more years before I'd finally make it. I eventually went to university in Los Angeles… but this time I drove there. In the middle of the night, somewhere around Idaho, I hit and killed the biggest rabbit I’d ever seen in my life. It was seriously the size of a coyote. Elmer Fudd would have been so proud! However, that early morning mishap notwithstanding, the trip was still decidedly less dangerous than the attempted train travel. Still, I have to say, after all those years it was just as I’d hoped… I truly loved living in LA.

So, 20 years later now, it shouldn’t be too surprising to any reader who's made it so far into this little blog, that when I decided to open a second office it would be in California. I mean, where else?

To be continued…