Weekend in SoCal, part 2
Where I last left off it was nearing 11am on Saturday and we still hadn't left our hotel room. The luxury of taking it easy, and all that.
Saturday midday: We headed out to Malibu for a trek to Escondido Falls. (Escondido is Spanish for "hidden".) We took the scenic route the whole way, driving California Highway 1, aka the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), the whole way from LAX up through Marina Del Rey, Venice, Santa Monica, and Pacific Palisades on our way to Malibu. No, we didn't see Charlie Parker's house.
Along the way we stopped for lunch at Rubio's, a chain of fast-casual Mexican food restaurants in California. Their claim to fame is fish tacos. We used to eat at Rubio's at least once a week when we lived in the area. When we moved back to the Bay Area we left them behind-- until they expanded into this area a few years ago. Something got lost in translation, though. The restaurants up north just aren't as tasty as those down here in the Southland.
Saturday afternoon: The trail to Escondido Falls starts out at the bottom of a winding canyon road where it intersects the PCH. Along the road, perched on cliffs overlooking the ocean, are multimillion dollar estates. As the 1% tend not to like hoi polloi (Greek for "the many") cluttering their view, there's no parking on the road. So we the many were parked in a small lot at the bottom of the road and for at least 2 blocks up and down the PCH. Yes, we really were "the many". As merhawk and I started up the hill we passed at least 50 hikers coming back down.
After a mile or so the road ended and the trail became an actual trail. The kind with dirt and bushes and trees. And fewer multimillion dollar estates. We continued another mile or so to the lower falls. It's been a fairly dry season recently, so the falls didn't have much flow. It was really more of a seep, or wet wall, than a falls.
There was an upper falls, higher up in the canyon, that likely looks more dramatic, but we were not able to get to it. The trail up from the lower falls was extremely steep and narrow. Like, "hold on to a rope so you don't fall over the edge" steep and narrow. We didn't have the right footwear to be confident about balancing on narrow rock edges and we were both feeling less than 100% from back/leg problems. We gave it a try but chose to turn back partway up instead of putting ourselves at greater risk.
Saturday afternoon, part 2: Not going all the way to the upper falls made us feel shortchanged in the exercise quotient so we decided to stop by Venice Beach on our way home. Venice is an interesting neighborhood of Los Angeles that has a vibrant... well, for lack of a better word... weirdo scene. The broad paved promenade along the beach is home to all kinds of vendors, buskers, performers, and crazy homeless people. Occasionally, like with the case of a guy playing an electric guitar with an amplifier in his backpack while riding on a pair of homemade rollerskates, it's difficult to tell which is which!
Saturday evening: For dinner we decided to visit one of our old haunts from when we lived in L.A., Earth Wind & Flour. Well, it wasn't exactly our old haunt. They had a few restaurants years ago. We were regulars at the branch in Westwood as it was a pleasant walk from our home. They closed up that branch some time ago, so this trip we tried their original in Santa Monica.
EWF is an Italian-American place. Their pizza was pretty good but the really special dish was their chicken parmesan. It was the best chicken parm ever-- and I don't say that lightly. Alas, our dinner on Saturday was nowhere near that good. I don't know if it was something special about how they did it at the Westwood restaurant or if something's been lost in translation over the past 10 years, but now it's just "okay".
Sunday morning: Another lazy-ish morning at the hotel, though this time we did carve out some quality time in the hotel's outdoor hot tub, nestled in amongst palm trees.
Sunday afternoon: We drove to the town of Newport Beach in Orange County to visit Crystal Cove State Park. Originally our intent was to hike up one of the watershed canyons there, but again, as it's been a dry season we figured there wouldn't be much water flowing. Instead we hiked down the bluffs to the beach and enjoyed a nice, log walk in the sand.
Once back at the car we took the long way to SNA airport, looping through the town of Laguna Beach further south on the coast. Laguna sure is a beautiful place. It's like Venice Beach but with the hippies and hobos replaced with yuppies and the ratty tenements replaced with multimillion dollar condos. I'm not sure that I'd enjoy spending time with the people if I lived there-- I hate yuppies about as much as hippies-- but at least the yuppies are easier on the eyes. And nose.
Saturday midday: We headed out to Malibu for a trek to Escondido Falls. (Escondido is Spanish for "hidden".) We took the scenic route the whole way, driving California Highway 1, aka the Pacific Coast Highway (PCH), the whole way from LAX up through Marina Del Rey, Venice, Santa Monica, and Pacific Palisades on our way to Malibu. No, we didn't see Charlie Parker's house.
Along the way we stopped for lunch at Rubio's, a chain of fast-casual Mexican food restaurants in California. Their claim to fame is fish tacos. We used to eat at Rubio's at least once a week when we lived in the area. When we moved back to the Bay Area we left them behind-- until they expanded into this area a few years ago. Something got lost in translation, though. The restaurants up north just aren't as tasty as those down here in the Southland.
Saturday afternoon: The trail to Escondido Falls starts out at the bottom of a winding canyon road where it intersects the PCH. Along the road, perched on cliffs overlooking the ocean, are multimillion dollar estates. As the 1% tend not to like hoi polloi (Greek for "the many") cluttering their view, there's no parking on the road. So we the many were parked in a small lot at the bottom of the road and for at least 2 blocks up and down the PCH. Yes, we really were "the many". As merhawk and I started up the hill we passed at least 50 hikers coming back down.
After a mile or so the road ended and the trail became an actual trail. The kind with dirt and bushes and trees. And fewer multimillion dollar estates. We continued another mile or so to the lower falls. It's been a fairly dry season recently, so the falls didn't have much flow. It was really more of a seep, or wet wall, than a falls.
There was an upper falls, higher up in the canyon, that likely looks more dramatic, but we were not able to get to it. The trail up from the lower falls was extremely steep and narrow. Like, "hold on to a rope so you don't fall over the edge" steep and narrow. We didn't have the right footwear to be confident about balancing on narrow rock edges and we were both feeling less than 100% from back/leg problems. We gave it a try but chose to turn back partway up instead of putting ourselves at greater risk.
Saturday afternoon, part 2: Not going all the way to the upper falls made us feel shortchanged in the exercise quotient so we decided to stop by Venice Beach on our way home. Venice is an interesting neighborhood of Los Angeles that has a vibrant... well, for lack of a better word... weirdo scene. The broad paved promenade along the beach is home to all kinds of vendors, buskers, performers, and crazy homeless people. Occasionally, like with the case of a guy playing an electric guitar with an amplifier in his backpack while riding on a pair of homemade rollerskates, it's difficult to tell which is which!
Saturday evening: For dinner we decided to visit one of our old haunts from when we lived in L.A., Earth Wind & Flour. Well, it wasn't exactly our old haunt. They had a few restaurants years ago. We were regulars at the branch in Westwood as it was a pleasant walk from our home. They closed up that branch some time ago, so this trip we tried their original in Santa Monica.
EWF is an Italian-American place. Their pizza was pretty good but the really special dish was their chicken parmesan. It was the best chicken parm ever-- and I don't say that lightly. Alas, our dinner on Saturday was nowhere near that good. I don't know if it was something special about how they did it at the Westwood restaurant or if something's been lost in translation over the past 10 years, but now it's just "okay".
Sunday morning: Another lazy-ish morning at the hotel, though this time we did carve out some quality time in the hotel's outdoor hot tub, nestled in amongst palm trees.
Sunday afternoon: We drove to the town of Newport Beach in Orange County to visit Crystal Cove State Park. Originally our intent was to hike up one of the watershed canyons there, but again, as it's been a dry season we figured there wouldn't be much water flowing. Instead we hiked down the bluffs to the beach and enjoyed a nice, log walk in the sand.
Once back at the car we took the long way to SNA airport, looping through the town of Laguna Beach further south on the coast. Laguna sure is a beautiful place. It's like Venice Beach but with the hippies and hobos replaced with yuppies and the ratty tenements replaced with multimillion dollar condos. I'm not sure that I'd enjoy spending time with the people if I lived there-- I hate yuppies about as much as hippies-- but at least the yuppies are easier on the eyes. And nose.