I was thinking about writing about the Olympics today, but I decided to pass when I turned on the telly and the first thing I heard an NBC announcer say was, so-and-so “is the greatest beach volleyball player in Latvian History.” I really, really want to crack open an Oly, but they just won’t let me. At least until that Bolt guy laces ‘em up. (No, I won’t be strapping my balls up for Women’s 30-meter air rifle.)
Instead, I thought I’d chronicle my last Sunday, as I tooled around in the San Diego area, deciding eventually to finally visit North County’s notorious nude beach: Black’s Beach.
The area is located on the shores below Torrey Pines golf course. (Yes, the same track where Rocco nearly wrecked Tiger coming out of the pits.).
Despite what would’ve seemed to be an accessible location, there is no real easy access to the nudie haven, and it’s impossible to see the the beach up-close from the cliff’s above. So I braved the steep climb down in search of Rick Majerus to see what it was all about.
(What’s with all the standing around? How’m I supposed to keep down my fish taco?)
To give you an idea of just how steep the cliff is above the beach, there’s a large glider port atop it. It takes roughly 15 minutes to negotiate down the jagged trail, and over 30 minutes to climb back up. A brutal trek even in the mostly temperate climes of SD’s North County.
There’s no signs around that say “Black’s Beach” or “nude beach,” though the rules for where people can completely (and regrettably in most cases) disrobe are clear. When you first reach the beach, there are makeshift lifeguard stations to your left and right.
Apparently, the rules are, you cannot go nude past the orange cones set up at these stations, which were three hundred yards to the left and and considerably further to the right (north) - which apparently doesn’t feature any sort of permanent housing or hotel developments for people with viable corneas.
(Anyone of the female persuasion was, sadly, undercover)
I wish I could say it was exciting walking around Black’s Beach, but as most of you know, unless you’re in a place like St. Tropez, you probably should avoid nude beaches the way college ADs have Henry Bibby. Having lived in South Beach last winter and also seen other nude beaches in Europe, I can now say with empirical certainty that 99% of beached nudies are people who have no business peeling in public.
As for Black’s Beach, the percent of buff sunbathers was about 5%, with the other beachgoers either regulars who live in the area or, like us, snickering curiosity seekers.
And of those nude, I only spotted a single female, who shockingly was actually reasonably attractive (I know, this post is worthless without pics!). The majority of the nekkid people were men flying solo *SHOCK*. They invariably wore white hats and for some reason felt the need to stand up a lot - and worse yet - walk around in full view.
I did have my camera handy, and as you can see, snapped a few piccies. Wish there was a little more palatable subject matter. Actually, this photo on the drive home turned out to be the highlight of the day:
I live right off Venice Beach, which I often lament features very few hotties. But after witnessing Black’s Beach, I think I’ll stick to what I know: dirty, cold water, filthy sand and the occasional, implanted adult film actress in a two-piece three sizes too small.