Tucked at Surfside's northern edge, 96th Street Beach feels like the town itself: understated, functional, and refreshingly free of pretense. You park along the residential blocks—metered spots fill quickly after ten—then cross a narrow boardwalk flanked by sea oats that rattle in the onshore breeze. The sand stretches wide and bone-pale, and the water breaks gently enough for toddlers to wade while older kids bodysurf the knee-high rollers.
“A residential pocket beach where locals outnumber tourists and the sunset unfolds without Instagram theatrics.”
Credit: FlickrChicago: Gold Coast
Lifeguards keep watch from their perches, and a single pavilion offers shade when the midday sun turns punishing. You'll see regulars: retirees with folding chairs and paperbacks, nannies coaxing children toward the shallows, runners timing their loops to the tide. The vibe is neighborly rather than transient, and by late afternoon the light softens into that honeyed glow that makes every iPhone snap look like a postcard.
Sunset here is the real draw. The horizon opens wide, unobstructed by high-rises, and the sky cycles through coral, violet, and burnt orange as the sun dips. Couples linger at the water's edge, and even the gulls seem to pause. There's no drum circle, no fire dancers—just the day closing down with quiet grace. You'll leave with sand in your shoes and the sense that you've found something the guidebooks missed.
