It was a dazzling sunny morning in San Diego, the sky crisp blue and the ocean glassy and serene. Regulators, tanks and fins covered the grass at Kellogg Park as scuba students suited up for open-water dive classes. Surfers balanced on their boards north of the park. Trucks delivered bright yellow and orange kayaks to the south. And out in the sea, dolphin families surfaced and dove in rhythmic choreography.
Three lifeguards stood studying the scene near Tower 33, the last in a series of lifeguard towers on the city of San Diego's shoreline (Tower 1 is in Ocean Beach). My husband, Gary, and I, pondering which way to turn first, joined them by the beachfront sidewalk. We asked about the water temperature, which they figured was around 59 degrees. Scuba, surf and kayak lessons were out of the question – I'm a wimp when it comes to cold water. The beach before us held sufficient entertainment. No need for goose bumps and shivering.
“There's nothing better than just spending a day at La Jolla Shores,” lifeguard Mark Korch opined. “There's always something going on here.” I tended to agree – especially on a gorgeous Saturday in January. The parking lot had rows of empty slots, picnic tables stood empty and a full mile of sand sans crowds promised sufficient distractions.
We headed first for the city of San Diego's only public beachfront boat launch at the foot of Avenida de la Playa. Gary immediately spotted a sizable yellowtail in the well of an orange kayak. Fisherman Dave Kalwick posed with his catch for several bystanders who'd caught sight of the fish. The Encinitas 3-D animation artist admitted to having a tiny obsession with kayak fishing – and bragging rights to a 49-pound white sea bass.
“I do spend a little time here,” he admitted, saying he averages six to eight hours in the waters off the Shores about three times every week. This morning, he'd finished fishing by 10 a.m. (die-hard anglers are on the water before dawn). A steady flotilla of kayaks continued launching for the rest of the day. Anglers and athletes paddled smoothly toward La Jolla Cove and the primo fishing grounds in the kelp beds, while students from several kayak schools at the Shores gamely battled gentle waves pushing their craft back to shore.
Farther up the beach beneath a row of multimillion-dollar homes, two Surf Diva instructors demonstrated the art of balance on surfboards firmly planted in the sand. The Women's Weekend Surf Camp has become an institution at the Shores, and the half-dozen women intently watching their teachers looked as eager as kids. They gabbed while yanking on thick wet suits and all laughed when I asked why they were taking surf classes in the middle of winter.
“I'm coming out in January with the goal of being able to do it by June,” one said, explaining that her boyfriend had tried to teach her to surf the previous summer.
“Isn't that the way it always is?” another joked. “You try to learn from a guy then pay to learn it right from a woman.”
Kelly Odgers, recently divorced, had driven down from La Cañada for the weekend camp, needing time to chill out.
“I figured the hell with it,” she said, explaining that she'd turned her back on chores, booked a room at the La Jolla Shores Hotel and was intent on relearning the skills she'd had as a teenage surfer.
“The ocean always soothes the soul, doesn't it?” she said, then realized she'd put on her wet suit inside out while we'd been talking. The students all quit chatting, plopped down on their boards and scattered sand as they practiced paddling.
“The paddle is half the battle,” instructor Artemisa Rivera repeated as her students stretched their arms wide across the boards (specifically designed long and narrow for women surfers). After a half-hour's practice they headed into the sea wearing matching pink tops and wide grins. If the surf remained gently challenging through the weekend, they were guaranteed a few heady rides by camp's end. Turning our backs to the sea, Gary and I wandered up Avenida La Playa, checking out the surf, scuba and kayak shops, and stuffing brochures into our backpack.
We considered lingering over lunch at campy Barbarella, a La Jolla Shores highlight. But even though this was supposed to be a leisurely excursion, I was concerned about timing. We ordered bountiful sandwiches at the Cheese Shop instead and ate a quick picnic lunch at Kellogg Park.
I'd planned to end our day with a hike from the Shores to Birch Aquarium and had mapped out a trail through Scripps Institution of Oceanography's parklike campus. But the day was flying by, and even though we hadn't paddled, fished, surfed or gone diving (all skills we possess to some degree), we were worn out from wandering up and down the beach.
So I cheated. Gary drove past the beachfront mansions along El Paseo Grande to the edge of the campus, then cut over to Jolla Shores Drive. He pulled over at Downwind Way so I could walk back to the campus on the Scripps Crossing suspension bridge and wander through the Scripps campus.
Established in 1903 with generous assistance from Ellen Browning Scripps, the campus is a woodsy enclave with historic buildings nestled beneath eucalyptus and pine trees overlooking Scripps Pier. It's open to the public (though parking is scarce) and is one of the loveliest historical and natural landmarks in San Diego. I could have happily lingered on a bench in absolute silence absorbing the view, but the aquarium awaited our attention.
It merited far more time than we could spare after our day in the sun, but we live nearby and can go back anytime. We visited favorite exhibits – moon jellyfish, sea horses, lionfish – and sat mesmerized watching leopard sharks, bat rays and guitarfish swimming about in the 70,000-gallon kelp forest tank.
We could have seen the same creatures in their natural setting if we'd pulled on our wet suits, walked into the sea and gone scuba diving first thing in the morning.
We'll be sure to do that in September, when the water's 10 degrees warmer. For now, we'll happily stroll the relatively empty sands of La Jolla Shores on winter weekends and revel in our discoveries.
Maribeth Mellin is an Ocean Beach writer and photographer who adores sneaking away to the Shores with her husband for weekend getaways.
