Sharks feed frenzy of escape to La Jolla

Though La Jolla doesn’t unduly flaunt its assets, the seaside community north of downtown San Diego is known for its serene, upscale lifestyle; the Scripps Institution of Oceanography, one of the world’s oldest and largest such research and education facilities and home to three Nobel laureates; and coveted tee times at Torrey Pines Golf Course. La Jolla is also known for one of the University of California’s most scenic campuses, an idyllic setting imparting a sense of immortality that fuels a party-hearty approach to education. The sharks live along the Pacific coast from Washington to Mazatlán, Mexico, and come to La Jolla for the abundant food in calm, warm, shallow waters protected by the Scripps Coastal Reserve. Though hundreds of sharks — almost all females — swarming a small cove frequented by kayakers, snorkelers and swimmers might sound like a horror movie, these are harmless creatures, docile to the point of timidity. There’s no record of a human ever being bitten by the leopard shark’s small mouth and teeth, which are designed for feeding on crustaceans and bony fish. The fish are so shy, in fact, that guides from Scripps’ Birch Aquarium, whose snorkel tour I took last summer, warned us to contain our excitement at spotting one lest the commotion scare them away. For my money, swimming with leopard sharks is the best reason to visit La Jolla, but its classic lures add to the pleasure — so much so that a day without a shark sighting doesn’t have to be a day wasted. Hiking trails offer a different perspective on the marine reserve, and Birch Aquarium, high above the ocean, is well worth a few hours, with more than 60 tanks of marine life and an interactive museum illustrating Scripps research discoveries. After ducking into Galaxy Taco, two blocks away, for a delicious lunch highlighted by handmade tortillas made with fresh masa and filled with local seasonal ingredients (avocados, potatoes and yes, kale), I headed a few minutes south and enjoyed window shopping along Prospect Street, dubbed “the Rodeo Drive of San Diego,” for native American and vintage jewelry, Oriental rugs, designer duds and customized glasses that I could never afford. A half dozen trails offer gasp-worthy ocean views while leading through the country’s rarest pine trees, whose more than 200-foot tap roots stoutly defy the dry, sandy soil and winds that sculpt them into shapes reminiscent of bonsai. Renting one of the rooms or oceanfront one- to three-bedroom suites makes you a temporary member. Though it was hard to beat the ocean view, I found myself walking among the elaborate barbecue parties on the sand next to the hotel walkway, just to feel a part of the tradition.