I Miss the Midwest—Except on the Days I Visit Malibu

I was born in Ohio, raised in Minnesota, went to college in Chicago and got my first real job at a small newspaper in Michigan, so I'm about as Midwestern as they come.

I've lived in the Los Angeles area now for about seven years total, all of it in Hollywood, the San Fernando Valley and the San Gabriel Valley. There are many things about Southern California that it takes an outsider a long time to adjust to, and some things you never quite adjust to, so it was tough those first few years being away from my family and close friends. It's still very tough sometimes... but not on the days I get to visit Malibu.

It's typically sunny and 75 degrees this time of the year in the Midwest, but it snowed four inches in the Twin Cities on Tuesday. As my loved ones were shoveling snow off their driveways and scraping frost off their windshields, I was cruising PCH and feeling fine.

My first few years in L.A., Malibu was a place I went to with friends to hang out at the beach. But the last few years, its become a place I often go to by myself as a little escape zone. Whenever I have need to clear by head and level my shoulders, I head out to Malibu for a little mini-vacation. Whenever, like Ishmael, it feels like a damp, drizzly November in my soul, I fire up my 1965 Chevelle Malibu Super Sport and go see the watery part of the world.

This past week, with Malibu Patch Editor Jessica Davis on vacation, I've been filling in for her, which required some time in Malibu. The pleasure was all mine. I hadn't been out to the area since last summer, but over the summer—an especially hot, miserable one —I came out about every two weeks. 

I've wanted to live near the ocean my whole life, and often I wonder why I moved 2,000 miles but stopped 20 short of the ocean. Money limitations and job circumstances have prevented me from making it those final 20 miles, so for the time being I have to enjoy my day-cations in Malibu.

I've had my '65 Malibu since I was 16, so there is something that feels especially fine and relaxing when cruising through Malibu in my Malibu. My destination is always to my favorite beach in the world—La Piedra, one of the last outposts of this long, winding stretch of paradise.

Since I often come out to Malibu alone for a day of thoughtful relaxation, I love La Piedra because of the isolation it provides. You have to walk down a narrow path that descends rapidly and it takes a good five minutes of hiking before you hit sand, but the hike is worth it.

Often, on the busiest beach Saturdays at Zuma, when thousands of surfers, teenagers and tourists are whopping it up, La Piedra typically only has a few people. On some weekdays, I've had the entire beach to myself for a time.

There is something special and unique in the vibe of Malibu. Whatever the secret to it all is, the great questions of the universe, I feel a little closer to the answers during my time at La Piedra.

As I drive back through Malibu Canyon, back to the sun-scorched concrete maze of the San Fernando Valley, the same emotions and thoughts often flood through me. I know eventually I will start to miss my family and friends back in Minnesota. I will miss hockey games, snowy Chirstmas mornings, fall Sundays while the leaves change outside, and simply miss the place and people I am most familiar with... but not today. Today I am right where I should be.