Since we started the California Coast walking project in the summer of 2021, we’ve been operating on the understanding that the coast is 840 miles long. We know that we have to add to that distance to account for having to do things like circumvent the Los Angeles Harbor on foot (which was surprisingly fun and educational) or travel a few miles inland to find roads on a north-to-south axis when highways give way to unwalkable freeways. But I just learned today that while the crow’s path does indeed span 840 miles, the shortest walking route along the water, using trails, clifftops and creative detours is roughly 1,200 miles long. What’s a few hundred extra miles? Especially when you hold it up to the Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration’s (NOAA) method of measuring the coastline including bays, islands and inlets. That approach puts the mileage at a whooping 3,427!

Our latest coastal walk, which we undertook On November 5th-9th of this year, landed us at El Matador beach in Malibu. The point where we sat at a picnic table overlooking the ocean waiting for an Uber to take us back to our campground, Malibu RV Park/Surf Outpost, marked mile 662 of our extended journey. During our previous visit to the area, May 8-13, 2024, we’d covered 48 miles hoofing it from Wilmington, a historic, largely industrial neighborhood around the Los Angeles harbor, to the Santa Monica pier. We caught an Uber in front of a three story pink and purple house a couple blocks from the pier, which we dubbed the Barbie house. As we waited, I recounted to Jo that as a child, I pled with my future adult self to remember that I wanted to live in a house painted purple with pink polka dots.

We planned to return to the area in January but changed course when we got news of the devastating Palisades fire reaching the coastline, destroying homes, businesses, and landmarks in its path. I got a text from Jo that said simply, “The Barbie house!” We were heartbroken, sure it would be consumed by the fire. So we were elated on day one of this venture to see the Barbie house standing tall. It’s hard to imagine though, that it didn’t suffer from smoke damage.

Our hope was to walk along the beach and use the wide highway shoulder as needed, but there were high tides and the shoulder was subsumed with demolition and reconstruction. Instead, we went inland via Sunset Bouldevard to reach roads on a north-south axis. This approach (attributable to my bright idea) resulted in twelve miles of walking while we gained only two miles of coastal distance. Jo’s idea the next day worked out much better: walk south from the campground and see how far we can get. Neither of us expected we’d make it the full fifteen miles to the point where we left off the day before, between king tides and major construction, but we went with Jo’s motto, “It’s yes until it’s no!” Construction crews were surprisingly accommodating in helping us maneuver our way along the coast, sometimes even stopping (practically standstill) traffic, to help us pass.

We’d walked stretches where there was no visible indication that a devastating fire had moved through the area. Multi-story houses with infinity pools hanging over the sea looked untouched. Then we’d move passed lot after lot of melted mail boxes, entire homes reduced to a door frame or an outdoor shower and walk in silence. It was a vivid reminder of what’s temporary. Everything.

Our campsite at Surfers Outpost (AKA Malibu RV Park) was perched on a bluff overlooking highway 1 and the ocean beyond. We arrived in the afternoon and were greeted by a flock of bright green wild parrots who visited again each day we were there. On our last evening, all the campers made their way by flashlight to a makeshift amphitheater where local guitarist Chris Anderson, held us sway with gripping covers of James Brown, Van Morrison, Jimi Hendrix and Stevie Ray Vaughn, one incredibly entertaining rendition of blues, R&B, soul and rock, after another. The audience, sitting around picnic tables and on camp chairs, looked around at each other in amazement at our good fortune and basked in the music under strands of fairy lights while the headlights and taillights passing along the highway seemed worlds away.

Santa Monica Pier to El Matador Beach

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