Every morning, I take my walk from Point Loma to Ocean Beach – about three miles in total – and every time, it feels like a little adventure.
The path winds through the quirky, creative heart of Voltaire Street, where every corner hums with energy and personality. There’s always something going on: a spontaneous drum circle, a café packed with regulars swapping stories, or someone dressed like it’s still the Summer of Love. The vibe is pure Ocean Beach: free-spirited, unpredictable, and somehow frozen in time.
The other morning, my stroll ended at the Ocean Beach Pier just after sunrise. The pier stretched out over calm water, and right there in front of it stood the famous OB Christmas tree – bent at a funny angle, as if bowing to the sea. It looked like it could topple over any minute, but somehow it stood tall, just like Ocean Beach itself.
In front of the tree, a small band played Christmas carols at seven in the morning, their music floating across the chilly air. A few locals clapped along, others danced, coffee cups in hand.
I stopped for a moment, smiling to myself. I thought, only in Ocean Beach. Only here would a band set up before dawn to welcome the day with carols under a crooked Christmas tree. I love this place because it’s weird – gloriously weird – and because it hasn’t changed in fifty or sixty years. Ocean Beach still feels like community, rebellion, laughter, and love all rolled into one.
So here’s my little tribute to that band and to OB itself: may it always stay just this delightfully offbeat.
