We're separated from the houses to the north by a small, steep arroyo. A creek runs through it so it's full of trees and shrubs and wildlife. On the other side, modest mid-century ranch homes (which now sell for seven figures) back right up to its edge.

Some, like this one, have a path to the beach. It took some doing, carving the gently terraced rise, adding the wooden steps, the rustic rope handrail. The theory is the homeowners now have beach access. So far, though, the only traffic I've seen is coyotes, usually at dusk or dawn. They glide up from the canyon, skim over the steps and, if Jake barks or Maisie whines, they turn and stare. And give us the finger.

Here's the beach today, moments before the fog rolled in.