Travel Biography - Week 98.

The eleven days I spent in San Diego was the longest continuous stop of the whole 1997 Round-the-World backpacking trip, beating Sydney by just one night. This was due to a night spent away at the Blue Mountains National Park, around 100 km or 60 miles out of Sydney. I stayed the longest at any YHA-affiliated hostel, worldwide, in the HI-AYH San Diego. However, the honour of the longest unbroken stay at any hostel was at the privately owned unaffiliated New Swedish Hostel in the Old City of Jerusalem, where I stayed for 27 nights in 1994.

Fine Architecture at Mission Beach.

Summer Scene at Mission Beach, San Diego.

A hired bike at Mission Beach town.

The Ocean is seen from the Pier, Mission Beach.

A Listening Ear at Mission Beach.

Hence, I had plenty of time not only to revisit venues I had already seen in 1995 but also to visit sites I had yet to visit. San Diego Zoo was one venue, and La Jolla was another. Also, at Mission Beach, not only had I bathed in the sea this time, but while I was visiting its pier, I became friendly with the lady who was manning an ice cream kiosk.

I have found it amazing how some people open up to those who have a sympathetic, listening ear, and this was a case in point. After buying an ice cream, by some instinct within, I gently asked her how she was faring. She then answered that she was still recovering from an operation she recently had. Since she didn't reveal the site of her procedure, I didn't ask. Instead, I gave her some encouragement, and introducing myself as a world traveller, remarked how impressed I was with San Diego, its environment, and its balmy climate.

When the talk ended, it looked as if I left her feeling better than before, having seen and respected her as a human being with her own thoughts and emotions, and not treated her as a mere cog in a machine that had to meet the customer's high expectations.

As for bathing in the sea, this was my first open-water swim of any kind since at K'gari, or Fraser Island, off Hervey Bay in southern Queensland, where I had a swim in Lake McKenzie, the world's natural cleanest inland body of freshwater. However, as for sea swims, my last snorkelling swim was at Border Island of the Whitsundays, off Arlie Beach. Therefore, it felt good when, once more, I plunged into the sea in the San Diego area on the far side of the Pacific Ocean from Australia. What about my concern with sharks, like I felt in 1995? This time, it was the presence of other bathers that neutralised any fears. In 1995, I was there during the Autumn, when the beach was almost deserted.

A Day Trip to La Jolla on Two Wheels.

Back at the hostel, one morning, after looking at the wall advert of La Jolla, I was inquisitive about hiring the hostel bicycle to get there. So, after I had breakfast, I approached reception to ask about this. At this instance, I pronounced the town's name as it was spelt - La Jolla. The receptionist was keen to rent out the bike, but he also corrected me on how the Spanish name was pronounced. It was pronounced La Hoya. I was mildly disappointed, as La Jolla sounded such a happy name. I couldn't help feeling jolly about it! It was like when my accountant friend Tim corrected me on the Welsh name Llanelli during a Welsh Rugby tournament we were watching together on TV. The name of this town is pronounced, Flan-efli. For me, I have wondered how the Italians would have pronounced La Jolla. Italian is the only language I know of that pronounces each letter in a word as it's pronounced in its alphabet. 

The Rocky Coast approaching La Jolla.

Another view of the Coast as I approach La Jolla.

La Jolla Town

La Jolla Cove - where I swam.

It was a little over 13 miles or 21 km from Downtown San Diego to La Jolla, and it took over an hour had I rode direct. Instead, I stopped at Mission Beach and at other points further along the rocky coast to take in and enjoy the scenery. Although the ride started off along the main road out, passing by the back of the airport, once I arrived at Mission Beach and also passed by SeaWorld east of the Pacific Coast, a combined cycle and walkway ran along the beach, providing a very safe route to La Jolla. I remembered this cycleway from two years ago. Not only cyclists use it, but pedestrians and joggers use it regularly. I believe it has always been an excellent training route for runners and aspiring athletes.

The last time I hired a bike during this world trip was from Jeff's Hostel in Byron Bay, New South Wales. I recall the soaking I got from the heavy rain whilst I was on the return ride to the hostel. The Aussie out-and-back distance I covered was approximately 17 miles (27 km). In turn, the round trip to La Jolla from Downtown San Diego and back was around 26 miles (42 km) thus a day's smooth riding in far better weather! And, unlike Malibu being outside the Los Angeles administration area, La Jolla was just within the administration of San Diego, despite this coastal town being 13 miles north of Downtown.

North of Mission Beach, the sandy strip became a series of flat rocky ledges protruding into the sea. They make excellent sunbathing platforms without the inconvenience of sand getting under the toenails. This part of the coast was already in the southern stretch of La Jolla. Further on, the town appeared. It was at this point that the coast swung to the east, with the north-facing curve forming La Jolla Cove, a popular bathing area dotted with swimmers and snorkelers.

What the snorkelers were looking at beneath them, I never found out at the time, as I couldn't see a snorkel hire station anywhere nearby. However, I thought about the Great Barrier Reef, and Low Isles Coral Cay and Border Island fringe reefs in particular. Since then, I learned that what lay beneath the surface of the sea lapping the Cove was an artificial reef created by laying rubble of quarry stones on the seabed to encourage the growth of reef life, very much like that of a decommissioned ship deliberately sunk for the same reason, creating a diver's aquatic paradise.

No doubt, to snorkel over these reefs would have been intriguing, and perhaps impressive. But, as I see it, an artificial reef doesn't hold a candle to a natural reef, unless this would have been the first time ever to set eyes on a reef. As one who was impressed enough by the splendour of the Great Barrier Reef to be fully converted, my case is one of "seeing Naples and die." Therefore, I have at times some regret in not snorkelling over the La Jolla Cove reefs, nevertheless, it wasn't a do-or-die deal. But that didn't mean I stayed dry. Since I was wearing quick-dry shorts, I stripped off my shirt and footwear and plunged straight into the sea, relishing the cool water of the Pacific Ocean holding me off the seafloor below.

A Lonely Gull on the Rocky Coast

Sandstone Cliffs, La Jolla.

One of the caves in the sandstone cliff.

Inside the entrance of Sunny Jim's Cave.

Another attraction I was interested in visiting was Sunny Jim's Sea Cave. Although accessible from the sea, it was the only one of the eight sea caves into the sandstone cliffs that were also accessible from land, and the entrance was through a grocery store on the clifftop. 

Having found the shop, which was near the Cove, I entered and bought some light refreshments. On one side of the shop's interior was a closed door. After buying what I needed, I asked whether this was access to the cave. It was, and I paid a small fee over the counter. I was left to myself to proceed through the door which was the entrance to a well-lit man-dug tunnel with steps leading underground.

I was thinking as I descended the wooden steps, how similar this was to Hezekiah's Tunnel, a much older water conduit located just south of Israel's Jerusalem Old City. However, the 2,700-year-old Biblical tunnel was very precise compared to this one here in La Jolla. It had to be. It served as a channel to convey water away from the threat of the Assyrian king and his forces attacking the city during the reign of King Hezekiah. This South Californian tunnel was much younger (completed in 1905), shorter and less precise in its engineering skills, and its sole purpose was for its original owner, Gustav Schultz, to make money by allowing access to paying tourists at the turn of the 20th Century. To this day, visitors are still obliged to pay the entrance fee.

When the cave entrance appeared through the other end of the tunnel, its outline resembled the profile of a human head, and it was given the name Sunny Jim's Sea Cave after a cartoon character featured on a breakfast cereal box. From the entrance, the sea lapped below, as it was low tide when I was there. During high tide, the sea floods the floor of the cave, making it an ideal site for illegal smugglers in the past centuries.

I spent some time alone in the cave. Despite having been rated as a tourist highlight, as far as I'm aware, nobody else entered the tunnel to join me in the cave. But I didn't mind. It was a good spot to meditate, as the sound of the lapping waves outside echoed within the cave walls. The rock in which the sea eroded into the cliffs was sandstone, the same material that some layers of the Grand Canyon strata of the Outer Gorge are composed of.

La Jolla was one of the highlights of the 1997 visit, as I had not seen that area before. By looking around, I have gotten the impression that the locals are well-to-do, even wealthy. I saw that, like Downtown San Diego, the town was neat and well-kept, having a beauty of its own.

A Shock at a Californian Bar.

Back at the hostel, after handing the bicycle safely to its owners, I prepared dinner as usual. Like at all other times, nightlife wasn't particularly attractive. I prefer to leave all that for the rising generation, people in their twenties, maybe into their thirties. However, one evening, I did fancy a drink in a bar. Not knowing any better, I ordered a half-litre of ale (that is about an imperial pint.) I watched the barman fill the glass, but just before he was due to hand it over, he asked for my identification. I was shocked. This was unknown in Britain, Europe or Australia. The only identification I had in those days was my passport. And it was safe in the hostel dormitory, a short walk away.

The barman apologised and explained that showing identification was mandatory before an alcoholic drink was served. He had no choice but to pour the drink down the sink, a sheer waste of a good beverage, just because some idiot in the echelons of power believed that every fully grown adult citizen, whether American or foreigner, was a potential threat to society! 

I didn't return to the bar with the passport, although I could have done and be served. Instead, the comfort of the hostel was more welcoming.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Next Week: San Diego Zoo and Other Attractions.