Life's A Beach, And Then You Fly.

It was great spending a few days in my home town. I have fond memories of growing up in Laguna when it was still a small beach town inhabited by starving artists, beach bums, Hollywood gays, and a few thousand other middle-class citizens. Now it has richified to an almost unrecognizable extent, though there are still a few reminders of the past.

Every morning, my brother walks five miles (at 76!) with his dog. We walked downtown, 

and then along Main Beach in the early morning overcast. The beach is empty until 

the sun comes out at about 10:30, and then the hordes descend. 

The house I grew up in overlooks the beach. 

You can see it on the hill just under the yellow arrow.

The coastline here is truly spectacular, with many small, rocky coves.

The tide was low, exposing the seaweed-covered base of the rocks.

We walked the entire length of the town on the beach, ending at Agate Street Beach 

where the rocks block further progress. This was one of my favorite beaches as a kid. 

When the tide is very low, you can walk through the arch to the tidepools and 

Wood's Cove just around the point.

My sister, Catherine, flew in later that morning, and after lunch we went back to Agate 

for an afternoon swim. The tide was up, and there was very little beach left to sit on. 

The surf was up, too, with sets of 5-6 foot waves breaking hard practically on the shore. 

We remembered then that Agate and many other of Laguna's beaches have a 

nasty shore break in heavy surf.

Not that that was going to stop us. Nor would the semi-frigid water temp: 61 degrees. Brrr! Catherine had a couple of boogie boards stashed at my mom's; we unlimbered them and waited for the relative calm between sets. When it came, we threw ourselves into the chop and paddled frantically for the flat water beyond the surf zone. We made it without incident, but were soon joined by a lifeguard who wanted us to return to the shore. We argued a bit, pointing out that we'd been cavorting in these waters since long before he was conceived, but he had no humor about the situation. So I dutifully started swimming back to the beach, while Catherine allowed herself to be rescued by the brawny youth. She had to leave her boogie board behind, letting the rip current push it north and out to sea. I made it back to the beach before the next big set, but Catherine and her gallant rescuer had to endure a minor pummeling before they emerged from the surf. When they came up together after the first dunking, the boy asked C. if she was all right. After the second, C. asked him very solicitously if he was all right. He was not amused.

Cheated of our swimming time, we resolved to check out the north-end beaches 

the following day. Looking out from Heisler Park, we saw that Fisherman's Cove, 

Diver's Cove, and Shaw's Cove looked pretty inviting.

Diver's Cove especially was a childhood favorite. We spent many a summer here 

frolicking in the surf and working on our beach-resident tans.

The palms have grown a bit since then.

Matthew and Teresa came up for lunch, and in the afternoon the four of us headed for the beach. We decided that Crescent Bay would be reasonably protected from the surge, providing the most auspicious swimming conditions. I had lived in a small apartment with wife #1 just blocks from this beach when I was just out of college, so I knew it well. Again the tide was up, leaving the mass of bathers huddled on a slim curve of dry sand. The surf was still high, but we were further from the lifeguards' watchful eyes, and determined to get some serious swim time in. 

Matthew was the first in the water and out beyond the waves. Just as I was wading in, I saw a head bob up next to his. It was a friendly seal. A large wave lifted both Matthew and the seal skyward and we could all see their bodies side by side through the clear face of the wave. Then Matthew was over the wave, and the seal continued its way south to investigate the other swimmers. I had forgotten that just around the point from Crescent Bay is Seal Rock where lots of sea lions live. I used to take an inflatable row boat to the beach, paddle around the point, and visit with the seals. They are very curious creatures and would often swim with me for a while before getting bored with my lumberingly clumsy way of swimming.

The four of us enjoyed a wonderful few hours at the beach, once our bodies adjusted to the chill water. Swimming in surf is far more fun than swimming in a pool. I'd forgotten how much I missed the ocean--the smell, the taste, the feeling of exhilaration that comes from playing in the waves.

The next day I visited T&M in Escondido, where they cooked me a delicious pre-birthday dinner. Unfortunately, Syona and Devon were in LA for the weekend visiting their cousin Eryn, so I didn't get my granddaughter fix, but we had a great time anyway.

And then I got on a plane and flew home.

P.