You descend the concrete steps to find a pocket beach no larger than a tennis court, hemmed in by honeycombed sandstone cliffs that glow amber in late afternoon light. Harbor seals lounge on the rocks at the cove's northern edge, their wet bodies gleaming like polished river stones. The water here is deceptively calm—protected by the headland—but cold, hovering around 60 degrees even in summer.
“One of the few mainland beaches where marine mammals claim more space than humans, hauling out mere feet from sidewalk spectators.”
A wonderful bird is a Pelican . . . La Jolla Cove, CA 2916
Pull on your wetsuit and wade in from the small crescent of sand. Within seconds you're finning over forests of giant kelp, their bronze fronds swaying in the surge. Garibaldi—the official California state fish—patrol the rocky bottom like traffic cops in their neon orange uniforms. Leopard sharks glide over sandy patches between boulders, and if you're patient, bat rays materialize from the murk.
Back on the bluff, the coastal path winds past the Cave Store, where stairs descend into Sunny Jim Sea Cave, and continues toward the sandstone arches of the Children's Pool. Cormorants spread their wings to dry on offshore rocks. Pelicans fold into spectacular dives. The scene feels more Côte d'Azur than southern California, complete with the seabird cacophony and the faint diesel note of charter boats motoring toward open water.
