Surfin' U.S.A.*: San Onofre State Beach
Directions seem so easy on paper. Or a smartphone app. Or a car’s navigation console.
For as many times as our party of four had read the description for today’s hike, you’d think we would have gone the right way. Or at least recognized the wrong way at some point in the 3.5-mile journey. But no. That did not happen.
Ever since Deborah months ago read a blog post about a nice beach walk at San Onofre State Beach, we’d tried to schedule a Saturday morning trip. The problem was timing it with low tide and everyone's schedules. After three months of examining tide tables and calendars, today was the day.
We drove about 45 minutes from our meeting spot in San Diego to the Basilone Road exit off the 5 North freeway and then worked our way first west and then south in the dark to an empty state park kiosk and parking lot. Along the way we passed a landmark every southern Californian recognizes: the decommissioned San Onofre Nuclear Generating Station, better known by locals as the San Onofre boobs. There’s also a campsite nearby.
It normally costs $15 to park, but the parking machine was broken—something another pre-dawn visitor must have known by how quickly he sped through the same entrance. Though there is plenty of parking, during warmer weather, the lots fill quickly.
Sunrise was still officially about 15 minutes away when we saw the small sign for Beach Trail 1 and instinctively climbed up the short dirt hill and took in the bluffs, the waning near-full moon above and surprisingly close surf below. Then we followed the path south, unknowingly moving into Camp Pendleton, the big military installation transecting both San Diego and Orange counties. There are decent asphalt roads running parallel to the freeway that draw huge swarms of cyclists most weekends. This early morning, the beach beckoned for four surfers, two fishermen, one kayaker and a transient who slept soundly by Restroom No. 3. There were other cars in the lot (including several iconic VW vans) but we never crossed paths with anyone riding in them.
Southern California has had super bloom fever for a few weeks now. A wet winter has delivered a bumper crop of wildflowers blanketing hillsides, canyons and desert floors. And ocean bluffs, in the case of our immediate surroundings.
The sandstone cliffs here are unstable; we saw large sinkholes along with signs of heavy erosion and troublesome “fault lines” whenever we drew closer to the edge or while pouring down a chosen dirt path. There weren’t any easy access points (though some surfers recommended Beach Trail 4). And we didn’t make it to Beach Trail 6, reported to lead to a clothing optional beach. It was in the high 50s and shady, not a likely reason to sunbathe in the nude.
We moved through the prolific wildflower blooms, stopped for pictures, headed down to the rocky shoreline and immediately knew there would be no beach walk. The Pacific already covered most of the sandy shoreline. We weren’t disappointed; we walk our local beaches regularly. But we kept wondering aloud how that hiking expert could recommend coming at low tide when waves here never really recede. Honestly, this scene looked nothing like the smooth sandbars and sea anemone-filled tidal pools in the pictures. And yet, we loved this place. Everything looked freshly scrubbed--the flora, the shoreline, the skies. It smelled freshly scrubbed. And, as I may have mentioned, it lacked the crowds no doubt overwhelming other super bloom sites on this sunny Saturday morning.
Ninety minutes in, however, I was hungry and hurting. That troublesome hip continues to misbehave, despite weeks of physical therapy and prescription-strength analgesics. It took far less time to return to our cars and head to downtown San Clemente for breakfast.
That’s when I realized we’d missed a critical piece of information in the directions for how to enjoy low tide at San Onofre State Beach. We’d gone the opposite direction, thereby bypassing the nuclear plant, the bigger crowds, the gentler trails and the highly accessible seashore. No matter. We all agreed what we’d experienced was just as nice, if not nicer. It was just as perfect, if not more so. And now we have a reason to return and “right” our wrong, having gotten our proverbial feet wet.
