Adventures in Malibu- A Tale in Two Parts: Part 2

Hello, everyone! It’s been a hell of a week for me. Since the world learned the news of Neil Peart’s passion, writing can be difficult. Furthermore, Michael and I had friends in town and attended the NAMM convention in Anaheim. My free time is limited, and by attention span is more disjointed than the usual disjointed-ness.

This is the second part of my Malibu piece, the first which can be found here. I talked about a hiking trail in Malibu(well, more like half), and left all the fun beach things for this post.

I did not know this before moving to Los Angeles, but Malibu is huge, filled with several beaches and endless hiking trails. It is a treasure trove of exploration. One of the reasons I enjoyed the place so much was the diversity of the area. Sure, you have your Malibu Barbie vibe, but Malibu Barbie is only a sliver of what Malibu has to offer.

From Solstice Canyon, we drove all the way to Zuma Beach, which is located in northern Malibu. The beauty of the Pacific Coast Highway cannot be overstated, especially in Malibu. The drive is full of the blue beaches and towering cliffs you dreamed about. At Zuma Beach, you can park, or drive down to Point Dume and Pirate’s Cove.

Parking our car was a further illustration of the area’s dichotomy. I saw the “LA types”- a late 20-something man dressed fully in designer black clothing, with sunglasses and a well-kept beard around 8-10 inches long. There was a model shoot going on, blazing manufactured pop hits in the background. Michael and I had a good chuckle. But the area’s beauty was the star. From the parking lot, we noticed a cliff jetting out towards the ocean, and I demanded that we see what was on top. While “planning”(really, just reading some literature) about Malibu, I read a lot about Neil Peart’s description of the area, particularly the ecological diversity. Even within this small area of land, it is apparent that this is one of the defining features of the area. There were not many readings(if at all) around the area, so I did not learn the specifics, but with the naked eye, you can tell that Malibu is a special type of creation.

The walk up to the top is mild, and the cliff jets out to the sea. Many people take pictures in the area, and the more adventurous(like me;)) are on a desperate mission to see how far they can go on the ledge. The top was filled with people, but it was not over-congested. One of the best parts was that it was surprisingly easy to walk around, so you can definitely catch a view of these amazing mountains. But most of all, the sight is still splendid.

When we reached the top, I looked out and noticed something. Looking north at the ocean, the backdrop seemed instantly recognizable. Countless movie backdrops must be set at this point, the Malibu cliffs and Santa Monica Mountains, providing beautiful scenery for *insert mediocre movie here.*

Pretty sure this is an establishing shot in Hannah Montana.

Nevertheless, take some time, and look at these pictures for yourself.

As we trekked back down, we were elated to find an almost-empty beach. With a small breeze coupled with the ubiquitous California sun, it was a perfect time to walk along the beach. January is a great time to visit the area, as tourist populations drop, and January and February can be too cold for locals to go out and play, but heaven for just about everyone else. For me, the beach is the highlight of the trip to Malibu. There is no place like it. It looks like a scene from out of the movies, because, well, it was a movie! It is easy to see why the movies are(or at one point were) “magic.”

Michael and I have two different responses to the beach. I, growing up on the coast and spending many summers at the beach, tend to like the nuances that a new beach brings. What makes this beach different? When I was a kid, I used to differentiate beaches by their shells. Did they have large shells or broken up shells along the coastline? Imagine my amazement at a “full-grown 21” when in France’s Cote d’Azur, there was no sand- only rocks.

On the other hand, the vast ocean continues to amaze Michael, who grew up in North Dakota. Every time at the beach, his face lights up in childlike wonder when he sees that big ole’ body of saltwater.  Suffice to stay, Michael almost ran into the ocean after our climb up the cliff.  Indeed, the water was freezing, but he likes to pretend he’s a Viking who can withstand becoming an icicle in the arctic. He spent his time at the beach jumping over and around waves. I, not a Viking who wishes to die in Arctic battle, did not want to swim, so I explored.

At the beach, I explore or swim. Otherwise,I think a trip to the beach is pointless. I do not see the point of “sticking your toes in the water.”

“Laying on the beach?” Unless I am reading(where I am typically disturbed by others), it is a waste of time. I can sleep in my room, where I will not have the fear of skin cancer and birds crapping on my face.

I lagged behind in distance, choosing to dig my toes in the sand, gawking at the cliffs, and navigating through interesting-looking rocks. Occasionally, I saw a tidepool and stood on my tiptoes from afar, in fear that any brief interruption would destroy this small and beautiful ecosystem.

I could spend hours exploring this small piece of heaven. Many of my adventures were taken with caution- again, that fear to disturb any ecosystems which I may confront. Sandwiched between the cliffs of Pirate’s Cove, perfection was met, and any human intervention would take a part of that natural oasis away. Like Laguna Beach, the waves crashed into the rock, making Malibu another place where I can recreate The Little Mermaid. The rocks were different. I tried doing some internet research on this, but I did not find much, so alas, my scientific ignorance will show. There were black clams on the rocks, huddled against one another, creating a type of maize. I tried to skip around the water, taking enormous leaps to avoid disrupting any tidepools.

I felt nuzzled in between the cliffs at Point Dume, which provided a sense of comfort and intimacy with the beach itself. Besides a quiet photographer, we were the only ones there, and no voices from above were heard. Finally. Peace and quiet. I plopped down on my back, arms and legs outstretched, and palms facing up. As a kid, I used to roll in the grass and jump in leaves. If my Mom was going to make me shower after being outside, why not get a little dirty in the meantime? The same logic applies- I’m already going to have beach germs, so I might as well have fun.

After about five minutes, Michael sat beside me, ruining my meditative trance, desperately trying to have me join his California Viking fun. After hesitation, I tiptoed to the water while Michael ran in knee-deep, his shorts drenched by the freezing ocean waters. Afterward, I would back to my awkward meditation, and we left, feeling rejuvenated in our own way. I enjoy laying like a starfish on the sand and Michael likes freezing his ass off in ice water.  Everyone wins.

We drove through typical, nightmarish 5 o’clock SoCal traffic on the way to Duke’s. In the last article, I mentioned that this trip was inspired by Neil Peart’s blog and discovering the existence of a Duke’s in Malibu. Long story short- Duke’s is home to Michael’s favorite tiki drink. We usually go to the one in Huntington Beach, but alas, there was another in Malibu.

Besides the annoying Valet parking, Duke’s Malibu was done well. It was the same great food and beachy vibe, but there was a small touch of Malibu. While there is a more “surf” oriented attitude in Huntington, there is more of a modern vibe without the pretension. The drinks were out of this world, and there are enormous windows where we watched the sunset. Suffice to say, it was an amazing show.

And so we drove home around the Santa Monica Mountains, winding through the many narrow roads and trying to get one final glimpse of the setting sun. I wish it was daytime because those roads were full of adventure. Just another reason to head back to Malibu.