We ended summer much as we began it. In search of cooling off. You’d have to check your calendar twice to know it here in Los Angeles, but summer is at an end. Given the fact that we don’t have a swimming pool, we headed (once more) to the beach. It’s what you do in California.   As a boy from the suburbs of London, I’m still struggling to grapple with the concept that a sunny (key word here) beach lies less than an hour away. And yes, they really do surf on it!

Malibu Beach

The tide was high, the beach scarce and the surf and the swell aggressive. We splashed and ventured and got sandy and gritty for most of the day.  We are lucky enough to have friends who live on the beach – generous enough to open up their homes, their decks and their beach to us. We made camp under the timbers of one of the houses that – to me – always seem to defy the principles of engineering. Namely: a wooden framed house, founded on stilts burrowed into the sand and that seem to reach out to the ocean itself.

Malibu BeachMalibu Beach

I’m still finding little piles of sand around the house and in the pockets of shorts – but oddly enough it doesn’t trouble as much as it should. That’s the magic of Malibu I guess.  Or maybe I’m just learning to let go a little more…?  Nah, couldn’t be.