A Weekend in South Bay
Manhattan, Hermosa, Redondo Beach
An Unpretentious Trio of Coastal Towns Without Traffic or Attitude
By Marlise Kast-Myers
As a world traveler, I’ve spent the better part of my exploration outside my own country. Of course, March of 2020 changed that, with a growing pandemic that left me and my husband searching for nomadic experiences closer to home. For two years (and counting), we have been trading in our passports for gas cards, and international flights for road trips.
From camping in the Sequoias to surfing in Baja, our quicksilver getaways gave us a cure when the world around us masked up for the great pandemic. Up until that point, we were more familiar with foreign travel than we were domestic. It had always been customary for us to simply spin the globe and point to a faraway land we dreamed of conquering. Tanzania, Finland, Vietnam, Turkey, Corsica — there were some 80 countries under our belt and many more on our bucket list.
But now, we had nowhere to go. International borders were closing, mandates were closing in, and fear of the unknown was pushing people six feet apart. We didn’t need to go far, we just needed to go.
And so, we chose a SoCal beach community we knew nothing about . . . South Bay. Just two hours from San Diego, the area is made up of Manhattan, Hermosa, and Redondo Beaches — an unpretentious trio of coastal towns just south of L.A. minus the traffic or attitude.
Often overshadowed by touristy Santa Monica and flashy Hollywood, we heard it offered the ideal weekend getaway for anyone seeking an honest beach vibe sprinkled with a hometown feel. For us, it needed to be about simplicity, spontaneity, and affordability. Oh, and boardwalk margaritas would be nice too.
With just one overnight bag between us, we jumped in the car and headed toward Shade hotel. This year, they celebrated their five-year anniversary as the first luxury boutique hotel in Redondo Beach. Just seven miles from LAX, Shade is right on the waterfront, and offers sweeping views of the Pacific from Palos Verdes to Malibu.
Marina-facing suites started in the $220 range and included late checkout, beach cruisers, yoga, Continental breakfast, a rooftop pool, and organic bath products. The greatest draw for us was its location, smack in the middle of South Bay between King Harbor Marina and the boardwalk.
Three blocks from the Redondo and Hermosa piers, the hotel oozed sunshine, even on a cloudy day. Locals were either on bikes, or skateboards, or roller skates (not to be confused with rollerblades, because those aren’t cool enough). It was as if everyone was on vacation — tan, free, and fit.
At some point we would join them, but for now, we would toast to our great escape at Sea Level Restaurant. Strings of market lights led the way from the hotel lobby to the neighboring patio. As the sun set over the marina, we cozied around the firepit and sampled California coastal cuisine by Executive Chef Alex Iniquez.
As much as we tried to avoid talk of the pandemic, it was inevitable, discussing freedom and all the things we had taken for granted —from the simple things like hugs, handshakes, and smiles, to fading memories of flights, languages, and international cuisine.
We started with hand-crafted cocktails and fresh oysters, before digging into mouthwatering mains like striped sea bass with macadamia crumble, and prime New York steak grilled over almond wood. And just because we were on vacation, we ordered a side of lobster mac-n-cheese with white cheddar Béchamel, and hand-cut fries served in a tin can.
And so, we made a commitment to live like tourists in our own backyard.
That evening, we made our way back to room 311, a top-level, corner suite overlooking boats bobbing on the marina. Decorated in soft greens and tranquil blues, our modern room had been prepped for the night, with mood lighting that could be changed from a bed-side color wheel.
A thick-white duvet and Tempur-Pedic mattress had us sleeping soundly in no time, meaning we were early to rise for our full day in South Bay. After a beach breakfast of croissants with smoked salmon, we visited the Bay Club Redondo Beach. Here, hotel guests have free access to the gym, racquetball courts, swimming pool, and scheduled classes.
Rather than perch ourselves on exercise bikes, we grabbed a couple of non-stationary ones from Shade, and off we went toward Manhattan Beach. Uber-pricey cottages framed the boardwalk, where I imagined what life must be like on the other side of those wealthy walls. Volleyball nets lined the sand, and by early afternoon, every court was claimed.
Not by us of course, because we had to drink again, this time at Rock’ N Fish at the foot of Manhattan Beach Pier. Located an easy 2.5-mile pedal from our hotel, this seafood restaurant is the epitome of beach culture. Dating back over 20 years, it’s one of the few that has survived the times, due in part to local loyalty.
Owner, Michael Zislis, habitually stops by customers’ tables to assure they’re enjoying the New Orleans-meets-SoCal menu. After the legendary Navy Grog rum cocktail, there was no question. Jambalaya, creole, lobster rolls, crab cakes — so many choices, so little space. We started with the oak-grilled artichoke, and sourdough loaf with whipped butter, then moved on to the Memphis style ribs that fell off the bone. Portions were large and prices were reasonable. They say that on a rare chilly day, the mushroom chestnut soup hits the spot.
With full bellies and happy hearts, we had some exploring to do; so we popped into Roundhouse Aquarium at the end of the pier where we watched surfers catch waves below the pylons. In the distance, planes pierced the sky from LAX, taking passengers to other lands where more mask mandates would greet them again.
Ironically, the one place we had chosen to “travel” —on the back of a single-gear beach cruiser — had allowed us to live mask free. If only for a moment in time, we could inhale the salty air, smile at strangers, and cut sandy tracks in our wake.
The further north we biked, the more the beach traffic thinned, to the point we were virtually alone among the wind-swept dunes. Had we cycled all the way to Santa Monica, our trip would have been 40-miles round trip. Instead, we were content making it as far as El Segundo before turning back.
Along the way, we paused at the Manhattan Beach Botanical Gardens, and shopped at stores like Right Tribe selling leather goods and accessories, and Human Landscapers offering by-passers a free nostril wax. With a motto like “Clean up your downtown, Downtown,” how could we not pop in and see what the hype was all about?
Low and behold, there was an entire business built around boutique waxing and small-batch ointments and salves. During our salon tour, we met owners, Bree and Jason Goldwater, waxing ninjas who have three store locations across the state. We liked them, and the fact they were more interested in learning about our lives than they were in selling a service. South Bay had that sort of vibe, one where people looked you in the eye, conversed about things other than Covid, and genuinely wanted to know you.
By the time we left Human Landscapers, we had exchanged contact info with Bree and Jason, and even contemplated extending our stay a week for the Manhattan Beach fireworks show. Each December, the city hosts a community event with a snow park, live music, and holiday fireworks.
If nothing else, this darling couple gave us a reason to return to South Bay, along with the dinner we experienced at Strand House. Conceived by a small group of South Bay families, The Strand House opened its doors in 2011, leading the culinary revolution of Manhattan Beach. At the helm is Chef Craig Hopson, serving coastal California cuisine like pan seared Branzino, grilled Wagyu steak, and black winter truffle tagliatelle. And again, because we were on vacation, we ordered golden Osetra caviar with crème fraiche.
During this weekend escape, we adopted the motto, “why not?” For over two years, our wallets had stayed closed to anything related to travel, pampering, dining, or self-care. In these 48 hours, we would go big, investing in guiltless pleasures without regret. From a couple’s massage at Trilogy Spa in Manhattan Beach, to morning mimosas at Zinc (on the ground floor of Shade’s second property in Manhattan Beach) — there were no rules, no agenda, and no “to do” list other than to live in the moment.
After champagne toasts and caviar dreams, it was hard to say farewell to South Bay. In a single weekend, we had experienced a micro-vacation that transported us to three beach towns near Santa Monica Bay. Each had its own personality; the trendy boutiques of Manhattan Beach; the tight-knit community of Hermosa Beach; and the laid-back vibe of Redondo Beach.
The one thing they all had in common however, was the South Bay pinpoint on Google maps . . . a little place we now called paradise.
