Water break

Ocean kayaking is a stolen indulgence for my husband and me, a physical and spiritual tonic that transports us from the rote demands of the day-to-day to unlived possibilities. Kayaking also melds our mutual interest in making the most of the ocean’s recreational potential. We live 11 blocks from the water and needed a water sport we could do together or with our two small children. (He surfs -- alone, which is, in part, the point.) Though we are still novice kayakers, we are devoted nonetheless and have found a spot we frequent for both its beauty and its relative emptiness.

So it was a relief one recent morning when, after weeks of chaotic schedules, the two of us had at last secured time alone to kayak up the Malibu coast. As we drove north from Santa Monica, fog barreled along Pacific Coast Highway in massive drifts shaped like mystical, vaporous tumbleweeds. Undaunted, we continued through Malibu past Point Dume and, finally, all the way to Trancas, optimistic that we would find sunlight -- but to no avail.

Desperate for adventure (parenting doesn’t count), we decided to paddle anyway. Our last kayak trip off Malibu was aborted when we launched off Westward Beach through surf rowdy enough to send our kids off on a parent-bashing tirade. Once out past the breakers, my son kept yelling -- while I paddled like an Olympian -- that I was “going to get us killed.” My daughter demanded to know whose idea this was, because “it was a bad one” and she was “never going to do this again.”

With that experience seared into our collective parental blood pressure, we decided to scope out a saner place to launch so that we might eventually bribe, I mean, persuade the kids to come along. A friend suggested the southern end of Escondido Beach, where Escondido Creek spits out onto the sand between Escondido Beach Road and Malibu Cove Colony Drive, private roads off the west side of PCH. The beach, long, narrow and sandy, makes launching and landing a snap in most conditions.

On the beach, three kayakers had already paddled out past the surf and had fishing poles angled over the water. Escondido Beach, which lies between Point Dume and Latigo Point, is steep and has a small shore break, making it easier to negotiate the waves during the launch. We waited for a lag between sets, shoved the kayak out, jumped in and paddled furiously.

We stroked out fast to beat any potential waves unloading on us, but it soon became apparent that there were no breakers today. The ocean lay before us like a vast serenity pool, still and reflective as a sheet of glass. We paddled north toward Point Dume, its rocks etched distantly against the gray sky. The only sound or ripple in the sea was the rhythmic dipping of our paddles pushing the water behind our kayak, which glided easily over the water and tangles of kelp, the only texture to the water’s surface.

It was as if we were adrift in a colossal Zen water garden where even the sea life seemed to move in slo-mo. Like sedated jack-in-the-boxes, harbor seals popped up from the ocean, telescoped their heads around, then slowly submerged again. Cormorants perched on buoys like sentinels. Sea gulls floated by like toy boats. The most energetic life forms were brown pelicans, which would turn abruptly from their horizontal flights, point their beaks downward and fire like missiles into the sea.

We paddled up the jagged coastline, taking in the architectural mix of multimillion-dollar homes perched precipitously on tall pilings and of humbler beach abodes. We passed Paradise Cove and paddled by some traps, which we decided to pull up just far enough to see four giant garibaldi swimming around (likely not the catch the trappers had hoped for).

Outside the surf break at Little Dume, just southeast of Point Dume, a handful of surfers sat on their boards, taking off on the few decent waves. Just east of Point Dume, Dume Cove makes a good landing destination because of tide pools west of the cove that are rich with sea organisms. Water visibility is high at Point Dume, which marks the northwest end of Santa Monica Bay, making it ideal for diving and spearfishing. During the winter and spring, the point is a prime place to watch California gray whales migrating. Waves and water currents around the headland can be dangerous, so kayakers are advised to be cautious paddling around the point.

We turned the kayak around and headed back to Escondido Beach, relishing the quiet and coasting along the way to ease the burn in our arms and legs. We were damp with sweat, and soreness was settling in on the last leg of our 90-minute tour of Santa Monica Bay. We slid into a wave and surfed it onto the sandy beach, where we rolled out and stood up on incredibly stiff legs. We would try this trip again with the kids. But neither of us regretted their absence, reveling this time in a playground for adults.