The first time I lived in California, I knew this one beach that was just about my favorite place in all the world. Actually, it was two beaches: one called Panther beach, and another, accessible only through a hole in the sandstone cliff at the south end of Panther, called Hole in the Wall beach. I didn’t know the names of these beaches, only that they were peaceful, and there were naked people at them, and I found this amusing.
The hole in the wall is only passable at low tide; at high tide, much of both beaches disappear, and if you were stranded on the wrong side of the hole, you’d have to climb some fairly treacherous cliffs to get off the beach. If you’re like me, however, Treacherous* is your middle name, and you’d give those cliffs some what-for.
Both beaches have some pretty spectacular sedimentary rock peninsulas that stick out into the bay, covered with mussels and anemones and other intertidal life. At the south end of Hole in the Wall is a huge pyramid of rock with a shallow, pleasant cave perched high above the water; from it, you can see miles and miles of beaches to the southeast, with a thin, pale blue line of Santa Cruz mountains in the background, behind the water.
The cliffs on both beaches are thirty feet tall and hard sandstone, carved by the pounding surf and wind into alien shapes. Sandstone is never a good thing to entrust your life to unnecessarily, but the bottoms of the cliffs are undercut by the water, and with their eroded handholds make for some great bouldering, with only soft sand to fall onto.
When I used to come to this beach eight years ago, I remember it as a beautiful, lonely, almost abandoned place. At times I would literally have it to myself.
I’m not sure if I came at a different time of year or if my fading memories fail me, but when I returned last Sunday the beach was pretty hopping, full of Santa Cruz students and families out for, uh, a day at the beach. Virtually everybody, sadly, was wearing clothes. There was plenty of sand to go around, a boatload of beautiful women and a German shepherd that really, really wanted to play catch. I only wish I’d brought some beer with me. Maybe a book, too. I had a camera, instead, and hope you enjoy the pictures I took (links go to Flickr set with more pictures).
*–Actually, it’s Ray.
