A day at the beach

Sure, kick sand in my face for admitting it, but going to the beach in Southern California is a hassle.

You crawl west on the freeway, then wait for a sweltering $10 parking space. You slog through burning sand, dragging a couch-size cooler weighted with gallons of food, drinks and ice, and finally lay your towel in between bottle caps and cigarette butts. The public restroom ... oh, banish the thought. A long stroll down the sandy shore? Someone’s got to guard your gear. At day’s end, you brace for the thigh-searing shock of hot vinyl and a long ride home in a gritty bathing suit ... with the rest of the megalopolis.

There has got to be a better way to hold on to some of the peace and calm that you sought at the edge of the Earth.

There is, and it’s practically a secret: Don’t go to the beach. Go to a beach resort. In Southern California’s lush resorts, the very idea of the public coming for a day trip inspires something close to panic in the executives. So it’s a well-guarded fact that for as little as $20, you can have the luxury of peace, privacy and a fleet of helpers to fetch you a drink, a clean towel or a massage appointment.

Drive to resorts in Santa Monica, Laguna Beach or Dana Point, hand your keys to the valet parking attendant -- gloved! -- and head to the resort’s fitness center or spa. Then slide on down to the beach, toting the hotel’s thick towels and maybe even snagging a shaded, luxurious lounge chair.

Oh, I know what you’re thinking. Big beach hotels are the way tourists go to the beach here. And if there’s one thing a Southern Californian lives in fear of, it’s being mistaken for one of them.

But just for a minute, drop that attitude and consider this: There has been a building boom along the beach here over the past four years. At last count, 27 upscale resorts have opened or are in planning. To keep up, even the 20-year-old Ritz-Carlton in Laguna Niguel is undergoing a $30-million remodeling that will include a spa. And in places like Miami and Hawaii, locals know that beach resorts are a luxury portal to the ocean, its views, classy restaurants, bars and spas.

Elaborate spas are especially common in Southern California, partly because they satisfy a requirement from the California Coastal Commission to improve public access to the beach resorts. For example, the public must be allowed to ride a golf tram or other vehicle at the St. Regis in Monarch Beach, according to Teresa Henry, the coastal commission’s South Coast district manager. The public also must be allowed “to eat in the restaurant or bar of the golf clubhouse without paying greens fees or playing golf.” And half of the tee times at the course must be kept open to the public, she said. Only the pools can be closed to the public.

(And by the way, if you’ve got a $25 day pass at the Loews in Santa Monica, it’s not.)

Still, in the 30 years that the California Coastal Commission has overseen beach development, Henry said the public has largely kept its distance from the resorts and hotels.

It’s the intimidation factor. After all, who feels bold enough to wander into a $500-a-night hotel, dressed in shorts and flip-flops, covered with salt and sand? Developers encourage that impression by cleverly building separate, adjacent beach paths, parking areas and playgrounds to keep the unwashed masses in their own corner. Many of those provisions are by no means luxe.

And luxe is what I was after. I spent a week taking advantage of the lounging, dining and pool dipping at four of the new resorts. I wanted to find out if a $20 access pass to a hot shower or a dry towel would seem like a deal after a dip in our chilly Pacific. I wanted to see just how intimidating the experience actually is, if “only” visiting the spa or fitness center makes you a second-class citizen in Resort World.

In general, I found that I could freely take my place among the overnight guests and enjoy the same level of service, which was refreshingly free of attitude or snobbery. True, room-key carrying guests officially have priority and access to the pools and other amenities, such as a beach butler who can light your campfire. And you will need to carry cash, while they merely sign expenses to their hotel room. But in practice, no one seemed to notice or care that I wasn’t a regular vacationer. It was even kind of cool to be the in-the-know local.

Finally, this being Los Angeles in the 21st century, don’t worry about those shorts and flip-flops. Some of the sloppiest and most obnoxious people you’re likely to encounter, anywhere, were guests at these places. You know the types -- the cellphone abuser in the whirlpool, the cigar smoker at the pool, the fake Louis Vuitton bag ladies at lunch, the unruly teens on the beach.

Sometimes, too much money isn’t a good thing.

Le Merigot

The valet parking attendant at Le Merigot in Santa Monica sweeps open my door and asks if I’m aware of the damage to the left side of my aging Subaru. Yes, thank you, I say as I unload my Dolce & Gabbana tote. At least my beach bag radiates class.

I stroll through the lobby, follow a waterfall fountain flowing toward the pool and ask for a day pass to the spa and fitness center. For $20, I’m handed a locker key, shower shoes and cheerfully escorted to the spa, where my locker is stocked with a thick terrycloth robe and I can help myself to the many amenities: dense towels, hair dryers, steam room, two private showers and a sauna that could seat four. Two women who are members of the spa’s fitness club ($1,200 a year) and locker room regulars marvel that no one knows about their gym by the sea. So sorry.

With icy water from the cooler in hand, I buzz past the fitness center (a short row of treadmills, exercycles and complete weights -- not today, thanks) toward a lounge chair under the pool’s lone umbrella.

On a cloudy Monday, the place is pleasantly deserted, though someone had obviously enjoyed his morning newspaper. Next to a crumpled sports section sits the stub of a freshly smoked joint.

I can hear the ocean waves and a yelp from the Santa Monica Pier’s roller coaster. Soon, two young boys overtake the heated lap pool with a game of water dodgeball. Time for the beach.

Draped in the hotel’s towel, I head to the sand, but a sign at the pool’s gate stops me cold: “Guest key required for return entry.” The nerve. Keyless, a return to the property could be tricky because, like many California beach hotels, Le Merigot sits across a city street, a few hundred yards from the very public Santa Monica beach. Unsavory types roam the area and security is tight along the hotel’s rear, so how to reenter?

It turns out to be no problem. After a two-hour stroll and siesta at the water’s edge, I walk up the rickety Sea View Terrace steps and straight into the lobby entrance on Ocean Avenue. My striped hotel towel is as good as a membership badge.

The best outdoor lunch option is the patio of Cezanne, the hotel’s casual French restaurant headed by chef Desi Szonntagh. A juicy, $16.50 steak sandwich with onion rings, pomme frites and mesclun salad is served on beautiful stoneware and checked table linens. My quickly refilled, $3 ice tea is adorned with an orange slice, mint leaves and a detail befitting a beach princess -- a doily to catch the condensation.

Deep into my novel, I’m slow to leave the table, but the sauna, steam room and shower beckon. Clean, refreshed and defuzzed (thanks to the courtesy razors), I don’t even mind that driving 20 miles home takes an hour.

With a $7 valet parking fee, my day’s tally, with tips, was the most affordable of the week: $54.13.

The Loews

It’s 72 degrees, sunny and breezy and the southern side of Santa Monica Pier’s beach is awash with kids poking at jellyfish, pasty European tourists courting sunburns, guys with metal detectors detecting bottle caps and teenagers making out in the sand. In other words, it’s a perfect day for people watching along the shore.

A hundred yards across the sand, amusements of a different sort are offered at the Loews Santa Monica Beach Hotel, where $25 entitles me to choose indolence versus activity: hot tub vs. pool; steam room vs. weights; lounge chair vs. exercise class; bake on the beach vs. jog on the treadmill.

There’s almost too much to consider, with too many price-pleasure ratios. The fitness classes are $12 for non-guests if they scram right after, or free if you buy the day pass (they’re also free for fitness club members who pay a $105 monthly fee). Then there’s the voluptuary’s bargain: buy a $55 spa service, such as a half-hour massage, and they’ll waive the day rate.

I am momentarily tempted to flex my muscles on the sun-washed gym equipment: treadmills, recumbent bikes, elliptical trainers and things with straps and handles and beeping, blinking control panels. There are morning water aerobics classes, afternoon Pilates sessions and early evening yoga classes.

Yet I consider sloth a luxury, not a vice. The pool’s ocean view, bath-water temperature, padded lounge chairs and $14 shrimp Cobb salad served in plein-air tempt me to abandon the beach. The ocean’s rhythmic energy is inescapably alluring.

Equipped with a thick towel, a terry robe and a newspaper -- all courtesy of the locker room -- I ride the elevator to the ground-floor beach exit. A half-block walk gets me to the sand, where I do nothing more challenging than sift mindlessly for shells. For like an hour, maybe even two.

Jolted to consciousness by thirst, I head back to the hotel, ring the back door buzzer and ride the elevator to the spa, where ice water, a shower and a fresh towel await. But my day is not yet over. There’s the hot tub, the pool, the steam room, the executive buying cocktails for the women in the hot tub.

I may never leave.

Retreating to a chair under an unoccupied, ocean-view cabana, I scan the beach four stories below. A gymnast practices back flips on a square of grass, a nursemaid pushes an invalid in his wheelchair and a skateboarder hovers past them. Bettering them all, a homeless man circles the gymnast with a bearlike walk on his feet and palms. Sure, luxury is great, but freaky, world-class people watching refreshes like nothing else.

The tally for lunch, validated parking and run of the spa and fitness center: $48.59 (with massage: $76.59).

Montage Resort

I had read the glowing reviews, heard the raves, seen the glossy brochures -- Montage is easily the hottest new thing on the sand. And on my midweek visit, the really cheery waiters and gracious spa attendants give you a sort of blissed-out Southern California contact high. Yet, outside of the spa, it feels as if every guest is busy, busy, busy: part of either a business conference, bridal party, birthday celebration or some kind of group adventure.

If you’re not part of the key-to-a-room class, your day pass won’t get you as far as at other beach resorts, but it will cost you more. Short of staying the night (rooms run $500 to $2,400), the only admission to Montage is through a spa treatment room, where a 30-minute massage costs $85, and a two-hour, ocean mudpack and soak is $340 -- and you’re still charged an additional $25 for access to the fitness center, lap pool, steam room, sauna, cold plunge and relaxation lounge. A 20% gratuity is tacked on as a “service charge,” so a half-hour on the massage table costs a minimum of $127.

Ouch. No wonder the spa sells Sun Tzu’s “The Art of War.”

Inside the spa, I unpack a stretchy, fuzzy robe from the walnut-slat locker, one of almost 100 others, and wait in the relaxation lounge. At the door to the spacious steam room, there are chilled towels and cucumber slices for the eyes. There’s the indoor sauna, but a soak beneath the waterfall in the sun-dappled outdoor whirlpool is a must. After a brave dip in the cold plunge, I retire back to the lounge, where an attendant brings me cups of walnuts, dried figs and white tangerine tea. I walk into the massage room and find the table draped in an incredible satin blanket.

The massage isn’t nearly as memorable. Afterward, lunch at the Mosaic Bar and Grille is a letdown too: “Cobb salad with blackened rib eye steak” turns out to be a salad sprinkled with minced beef and bacon bits. It cost $20.

My guest and I would have tested the pool waters, but the resort requires a room key for access to the pool and its 100-plus lounge chairs and cabanas.

The glorious chairs on the beach are, officially, also only for hotel guests, but no one asked for my credentials before offering me one of dozens that sat unused -- and an umbrella too. I skipped the chance to buy a $10 bottle of water and a $5 peanut butter sandwich from the resort’s snack cart.

Still, the beach is blissful, with a contented mix of people marveling at the tide pools, the gardens on the cliffs and the cleanliness of the public restrooms that the Montage maintains on the beach. And the validated valet parking was a bargain -- a mere $5 to shade my car for an afternoon.

The day’s tally: $160 with tips.

The St. Regis

The gates in front of the St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort and Spa may be Vegas-glitzy, but this is actually a sophisticated, soothing place to spend the day. Just a 10-minute drive from the Montage, the two beach resorts are in hot competition to outdo one another in luxury.

At the St. Regis, a regular Jane like me can hand the valet the car keys and walk a few steps to the hair salon, boutique or Spa Gaucin, where $20 buys access to the facilities, indoors and out. There’s no requirement that you buy a spa treatment, though it’s tempting. You can also schedule a personal training session in the fitness center for an additional fee.

Though most hotel guests prefer to reach the beach on foot, a stretch golf tram can carry spa visitors across the golf course and drop them in front of the Monarch Bay Club, a private club that won’t accept your cash. To reach the beach by tram, you may have to wait your turn until all the registered guests with dinner reservations at the club have been transported.

That was the official, intimidating line, but my friend and I suffered no questioning or demands to show a room key. On the ride down, an Orange County couple -- without prompting -- told us how they love to come here for the spa treatments, go to the beach, have dinner and then go home. Great idea.

Once the winding ride is done, we’re on our own at the shore. Beach butlers are tending fire pits for the dinner guests, who sit like Girl Scouts at camp. The place is really, really quiet, and swept clean of the seaweed piles that litter the sand a few yards away. There are, however, no beach chairs, no snack carts and no nearby source for sustenance. But I have my book, and courtesy of the spa, a towel and bottle of water. The place is ours to walk, splash and swim till dark. When we get hungry, we have a choice of eight places to eat, or better, dine graciously.

Had I not arrived late in the day, I might have discovered that Club 19, the restaurant in the resort’s golf clubhouse, is open to the public and is a great place to sip a cocktail at sunset (and they can pack you a sandwich for the beach).

Instead, that afternoon I have a California Pinot Noir for $9 on the lobby terrace overlooking the 172-acre resort’s gardens, pool and golf course. I’m haunted, positively haunted that I’m not hungry enough for the $16 Aqua burger -- two patties of grilled Angus, horseradish aioli, melted cheese and beer-batter onion rings.

Tranquilized by the wine, I breeze past the reservation desk toward Aqua, an outpost of the San Francisco seafood restaurant that chef Bruno Chemel oversees here. A table is available, giving me a few hours to loll about the spa and fitness center (where a membership is, gulp, $300 a month, plus a $650 initiation fee).

Inside, I dip a toe in the outdoor lap pool with underwater music and the indoor whirlpool with jets so strong the bath is like hydrotherapy. With a locker room outfitted with more hair and body products than anywhere else I’d encountered, I have a fighting chance of looking decent for dinner.

When I emerge, famished and freshly scrubbed, the sun is setting, the music in the cocktail lounge is tinkling, and I’m already planning a return trip.

The tally for the day: $135 (about $35 if you skip dinner at Aqua), including valet parking.

*

Luxury overlooking the sand

Here are some of the places where you can do surf-and-sand in style. Amenities range from shaded valet parking and serious dining to whirlpools, private showers, yoga classes and spa treatments:

Crowne Plaza Redondo Beach and Marina Hotel, 300 N. Harbor Drive, Redondo Beach; (310) 318-8888. The hotel doesn’t offer day passes, but buying a service at Body Etc., a European day spa in the hotel, where a 90-minute massage is $90, includes access to the hotel’s lockers, pool and whirlpool. The hotel is a brief walk to the beach and the kid-friendly Seaside Lagoon. Takeout sandwiches, salads and snacks are available from the hotel’s coffee shop.

Hyatt Regency Huntington Beach, 21500 Pacific Coast Highway; (714) 698-1234. The hotel’s Pacific Waters Spa offers no day rate and requires the purchase of a spa treatment, such as an $85 massage, in order to use the sauna, steam room, showers and, if you ask, pool. Beachgoers can buy snacks from the on-site grocery store or order a to-go meal from room service.

Laguna Cliffs Marriott Resort and Spa, 25135 Park Lantern, Dana Point; (949) 487-7576 (spa line). The Spa at Laguna Cliffs charges non-hotel guests a $35 entrance fee without reserved spa appointments. However, Monday through Thursday services are discounted: An hour treatment costs $98 instead of $125. The usual amenities come with the treatment. The beach is about a 10-minute walk away.

Loews Santa Monica Beach Hotel, 1700 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica; (310) 458-6700. One of the most welcoming hotels for locals offers a $25 day pass that allows non-hotel guests to use the locker room’s amenities, the pool and the outdoor whirlpool. You can join an exercise class too (it’s $12 for a class if you don’t have a day pass). If you buy a $55 spa service, the fee is waived. Dining options include poolside food service.

Le Merigot, 1740 Ocean Ave., Santa Monica; (310) 395-9700. Though this Marriott beach hotel has no beach views from the compact pool, the $20 day rate offers access to the fitness center and spa’s small locker room, sauna, steam room and compact lap pool. And if you book a spa treatment, the day rate is waived.

Montage Resort and Spa, 30801 South Coast Highway, Laguna Beach; (949) 715-6000. With the purchase of a treatment and a $25 day pass, non-hotel guests may use the fitness center, oceanfront lap pool, lounges with fireplaces, outdoor whirlpool, sauna and steam areas. Snacks and meals can be found indoors, outdoors and on the beach.

St. Regis Monarch Beach Resort and Spa, 33000 Niguel Road, Dana Point; (949) 234-3200. The $20 day pass buys access to Spa Gaucin’s luxurious locker room with waterfall whirlpool, steam room and sauna; the fitness center (with optional classes); and a stunning beach location. Lots of to-go food options in the hotel and on the beach.

Shutters on the Beach, 1 Pico Blvd., Santa Monica; (310) 458-0030. Though the hotel’s on-the-sand location is alluring, it doesn’t offer day rates to its spa. To use the locker room, visitors must buy a service, and that doesn’t include access to the pool and its Jacuzzi. Most outside guests book an hourlong massage for $110, have breakfast or lunch at the hotel and then head out to the beach.

Surf and Sand Resort, 1555 South Coast Highway, Laguna Beach; (800) 621-0500. The Aquaterra Spa in the resort doesn’t offer day rates and requires non-hotel guests to buy a spa service to use the facilities and fitness center. A 25-minute massage is $60. For an additional $10, visitors can join the 9 a.m. yoga class on the beach.