One of the last wild public places on the ocean side of PCH is Bluff Park. By wild, I suppose I mean undeveloped. (If we're talking wild in the more general sense, then let's introduce the endangered Dume Room into the conversation. A fun story for another time.)

One half of Bluff Park is ball fields where local Little League and AYSO and pickup games take place. There's a nice curving path for strolling, some lawns and picnic tables where big events like the annual Car Show happen. You can rent it out for weddings and private parties, and every day of the week you'll see people with picnic baskets and lounge chairs, books and baby strollers. Pierce Brosnan created a lovely spot as a tribute to his late wife, Cassie. There's a bench shaped like a whale fluke disappearing into the sea, free telescopes, and from dawn to dusk someone's there, enjoying the place.

But it's the other side of the property that lures me, a (mostly) untouched chunk of acreage where hawks and coyotes hunt and bunnies and songbirds hide. California quail skitter through underbrush where you might hear an occasional rattlesnake warning you off. I've found papery snake skins shed right on the path, and a bright blue egg shell under a tree. There's a spot at one edge of the bluff where, if you crouch a bit to escape the sight of the houses below, it's just you, a prickly pear and the Pacific.