Strolling through Laguna

Columnist Michael Ray takes an introspective walk through Laguna Beach and time.

It was late Friday afternoon on January 11, one hour to twilight and I was supposed to run errands. The weather had stormed through the county and left mud in its path. The prior night, when driving down Laguna Canyon Road, the temperature indicator on my dashboard read 37 degrees. I expected more of the same.

Before opening the car door, I noticed the sunlight. It had the particular clarity that comes only after winter rain: bright blue and stark with wispy clouds indicating a freeze. Except it was warm. I could feel it on my face. I turned and looked at the sun. It was an invitation. I accepted.

So began my stroll. It started at the northern end of Laguna’s Heisler Park, where I live above Diver’s Cove. The park is long and narrow, running along the top of the cliffs and terminating on its southern end at the wedding cupola next to Las Brisas restaurant. And it is old. My mom once told me her father, when visiting from Kansas during WWII, had lawn bowled at the park’s facility. 

Now the park is under renovation, so I meandered along where I could and thought of my children: the two girls, 18 and 15, and my son, 12. Ever since they had been born, I had taken them on walks through the park and down to Main Beach. It began when they were in baby carriages, sometimes two kids per carriage, and always with the dogs. On the trail we would fool around, eat the sour flowers and climb the gnarled tree near the southern end. I remember climbing that tree as a kid. My children will remember, too, as they will remember the walks. They will not recollect many specifics, but even when they are grown they will remember it was fun and bright and full of love.

At the southern end, I peeled right down to Main Beach. The tide was extraordinarily low. You could smell the tidal rocks and it was sweet.   When my kids got a bit older, we would stop at the toy store near the children’s playground at Main Beach. They were limited to $2 each. After that, we’d eat a hamburger at the Jolly Roger (now gone), then visit the village bookstore where there was no limit on spending. I did not care what the books cost, only that the kids read them.

Now I walked alone on hard-packed sand. The waves were small. Pelicans sailed gracefully along their updraft. My stroll led to the whitewashed Hotel Laguna, which is drab yet somehow forlornly majestic.

From there the boardwalk beckoned and I turned north toward Newport and started back. On most days like this the boardwalk would have been crowded, but the good weather had happened so suddenly that not too many people were out.

At midpoint, I paused and glanced up and across PCH to the condo where I had once lived. I laughed out loud and shook my head at fond memories. It was there that I clumsily wooed the girl who became my wife. 

At the top of the Main Beach stairways, the sun was within 15 minutes of setting. Its ocean-skimming rays were bouncing off windows on the southern hillside. Thousands of panes turned into mirrors glittering like flickering candles. Photos of this don’t do it justice because they do not shimmer and move.

Between Main Beach and Heisler Park’s Recreation Point is a rocky surf break called, appropriately, Rockpile. A few surfers were out even though the tide was too low. It did not matter; they wanted to be in the water.

At the Point there are stone benches. I sat on one and gazed as the sun sank into Catalina Island. On a whim, I took a series of photographs with my cell phone. It seemed like slow motion. I was watching my hand as I took the photos. The sun was in perfect alignment. I could feel my heart beating. It was loud. And as I continued on, a soft evening mist began to gather behind this incredible afternoon.

Michael Ray was born and raised in Corona del Mar, currently lives in Laguna Beach and makes a living as a real estate entrepreneur.

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