Sure, everyone seems to be falling in love with their Hinge dates lately, but that doesn’t mean the good old-fashioned meet-cute is dead and gone—especially when the sun comes out and everyone’s searching for someone to put sunscreen on their back. And if Love Island has taught the world anything, it’s that nothing sparks romance like donning a swimsuit and flirting with strangers.
Looking to couple up (sans cameramen) with your own perfect match? Here are 10 hotel pools in San Diego where you might meet your soulmate this summer.
Kimpton Alma
Courtesy of The Kimpton Alma
Kimpton Alma San Diego
Who You’ll Find: Your Pet’s New Step-parent
Do you find it ridiculous or adorable when someone brings their dog everywhere? If you lean toward the awww side of the spectrum, your soulmate could be at Kimpton Alma. The dog-friendly hotel attracts people who wouldn’t dream of leaving town without their fur baby. If you want to be a step-parent to a cute pooch, spend a few minutes by the pool or rooftop bar and start a conversation with a hottie by complimenting their pet’s Prada collar or shiny coat.
Town and Country Resort pool
Courtesy of Town and Country Resort
Town and Country San Diego
Who You’ll Find: Jet-Set Single Parents
The pool at Town & Country is filled with families spending their vacation days in sunny San Diego. But don’t worry, scattered around the deck are plenty of single parents ready to mingle and chat about life with three children under age 10. If you’re looking to Von Trapp the situation, this is where to spend your weekend days with the kids. Plus, their Twister water slide is open to adults, and what’s not to love about that?
Kona Kai Resort pool
Courtesy of Kona Kai Resort
Kona Kai Resort & Spa
Who You’ll Find: The Good-With-Their-Hands Type
Point Loma is a haven for sailors and seamen captaining sailboats around Shelter Island and in America’s Cup Harbor. So it’s no surprise the people you’ll find lounging near the Kona Kai pool are the same people holding up a dorado in their dating app photos. They tend to get a bad rep, but you wouldn’t be disappointed if your significant other brought home fresh ahi for dinner each night, right? Plus, we hear they’re good with their hands—you know, keeping track of all those jib and main lines.
Hard Rock Hotel San Diego – Sunburn pool party
Courtesy of Hard Rock Hotel San Diego
Hard Rock Hotel San Diego
Who You’ll Find: Bronzed Beauties & Washboard Abs
Sometimes you want the chaos and revelry of Vegas without the hassle of the 15 or the lost-luggage roulette you play every time you check your suitcase on a flight—which is why San Diego has the Hard Rock Hotel in the Gaslamp. The property’s pool is the place to go if you’re looking for bronzed, highly tattooed men spraying Champagne during every beat drop and women wearing high heels to show off their assets. You know the people you see on Instagram who somehow always make it behind the DJ stand at the club? That’s the energy you can expect here.
The Pendry
Courtesy of The Pool House
Pendry San Diego
Who You’ll Find: Your Secret Instagram Crush
If the Hard Rock gives Vegas, think of the Pendry San Diego as the Coachella of pool parties. The smell of spray tan fills the air as girls and guys wear as little clothing as legally possible—and snap the social media photos to prove it. Fridays and Saturdays are popping at Pendry; however, the Pool House turns it up a notch on Sundays (we see you, industry folks). All-weekend warriors and IG influencers will meet their match here. Do it for the follow.
La Jollans live for La Valencia’s day pass because the pool area offers wifi, so you can work from a lounger and mingle with other people who are sipping cocktails and moving their mouse every few minutes to keep their Slack status on “active.” Grab a Torrey Tea, take your AirPods out, and don’t be afraid to spark a conversation with that good-looking single a couple of chairs over.
Hotel Del Coronado pool
Courtesy of The Hotel Del Coronado
Hotel del Coronado
Who You’ll Find: Your Sugar Dad…Person
Come July, Coronado becomes a who’s who of well-to-do Arizonians escaping the heat for the summer. If dating someone who views the Waste Management Open as their Olympics is up your alley, find a chair poolside at The Hotel Del. The clientele dresses ultra-preppy and wants you to know they have enough money to afford the hotel’s expensive beachside casitas—and, while many of them are likely married retirees, gossiping with them puts you one step closer to a blind date with their hot-shot lawyer son or doctor daughter.
Fairmont Grand Del Mar pool
Courtesy of The Fairmont Grand Del Mar
Fairmont Grand Del Mar
Who You’ll Find: Well-to-Do 40-Somethings
The Fairmont Grand Del Mar is tucked behind one of San Diego’s wealthiest neighborhoods. The poolside vibe is old money meets country club chic—the men probably spend more money golfing monthly than you do on rent, and the women sport expensive athleisure and tennis bracelets with perfectly wrinkleless foreheads. The resort guests and members of The Grand Golf Club can access the pools here, so grab a cocktail and wait for the honeys to exit the course.
The Cassara Carlsbad, pool
The Cassara Carlsbad
The Cassara Carlsbad
Who You’ll Find: Singles Who Enjoy Working Out on Vacation
It’s no fancy aquatic center, but you’ll likely find the athletic type around The Cassara Carlsbad’s quiet pool with its dedicated lanes for lap swimming. (The nearby Equinox doesn’t have a pool, so locals hit this place up to practice their backstroke.) These are the same types of people who run 5Ks with their families on holidays, so before you make eyes at the Michael Phelps look-alike across the water, make sure you’re willing to put in 3.1 miles before breakfast on Thanksgiving.
The Seabird
Courtesy of The Seabird
The Seabird Resort
Who You’ll Find: Like, Totally Chill Brahs, Dude
This quintessential SoCal spot makes for the perfect soulmate-searching destination if your type has sun-bleached hair and is typically glued to a surfboard. Slip into the hot tub at The Seabird, which overlooks Oceanside Pier, and scope out wetsuit-clad singles. Your bird’s-eye view will allow you to separate the groms from the rippers.
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Molly Delmore is a freelance writer and content creator from San Diego. When she’s not checking out San Diego’s newest restaurants, bars, and shops, she’s planning her next trip to the mountains to snowboard or a new country to explore. Her work has been featured in San Diego Magazine, Mashed, and Tasting Table.
I hadn’t noticed him when he and his friend walked into Waterfront Bar in Little Italy. When Ryan (not his real name) came up and began introducing himself, I didn’t think much of it.
And then, I looked up. Six-foot-three, wearing a flat-brimmed hat and large grin—my five-one self was suddenly glad that I became a rock climber during the pandemic. Within minutes we were chatting and flirting. His hand began to graze my lower back as he spoke.
And then we kissed.
Smooching in bars at 40 isn’t my idea of romance, but if you make it to the top of the Empire State Building, you don’t miss out on the view.
At the other end of the bar, in a fun twist, my ex John was shooting his own shot with multiple women. There are some days that seem more scripted than others. Maybe I really am living in a rom com—or at least a comedy. Most days the rom feels elusive.
Ryan got my number and texted me the next day, but I didn’t hear from him again until three days later, when I reached out. The Lion’s Share in downtown was throwing an anniversary party, so I asked him to be my plus-one.
He was wishy-washy about his answer up until the event started. He agreed to show up a little late. This was the first time something inside me wondered if he was the commitment type, but it was still early.
I got butterflies when he arrived. He was immediately affectionate, stroking my back and complimenting my outfit. We kissed on barstools in a dark corner later that night as we sipped on tequila sodas and beer.
As we chatted over the next couple of days, I let him know that I didn’t want to be the only one asking the other person to hang, but still, I invited him to watch the Super Bowl with my friends and me. He said he’d let me know.
When he didn’t show and instead asked if I wanted to come by afterwards, I declined, feeling that sense women get when a guy only asks to hang late at night.
A few weeks after meeting Ryan, my matchmaker set up my first date with a pre-vetted person: Connor. He’s 44. A lawyer. He goes to therapy. He’s active and an avid traveler. He wants a family and loves pupusas (the food of my Salvadorian roots).
On paper he seemed like a catch.
My matchmaker let me know we’d be meeting at Stone Brewing in Liberty Station and gave me his number the day-of. First dates are always a little nerve-wracking, but meeting a complete stranger (save for three mediocre photos and a quick bio) was a bit less intimidating.
When he walked up, my initial reaction was that he was attractive, though not exactly my type. But Connor surprised me. I didn’t feel the same butterflies as I did with Ryan and we didn’t have the same flirtatious banter, but we had more meaningful conversations.
Connor showed up as a man—meaning, he didn’t seem like many of the young guys I had dated before. He spoke with self-awareness, shared his points of view while listening to mine, and asked me enough questions that I felt like it was a conversation and not a one-sided interview.
We also shared personal family stories. I opened up about private things that I would never share on a first date—stuff I’d usually withhold until we’re closer to relationship status. He told me about his family dynamics. Conversations like this could be uncomfortable for some this early on, but I appreciated that he laid it out for me and allowed me to decide what to do with it. There was no hiding for either of us.
After the date ended, he walked me to my car, we hugged, and I went home. I don’t think my insides were doing somersaults, but I do think meeting someone who has worked on themselves, knows their value, and possesses emotional intelligence is becoming harder to find these days—at least in my own dating life. It was refreshing.
He texted me before we went to bed, thanking me for hanging out. He also brought up an awkward moment that had occurred during the date and addressed it so that it didn’t linger longer than that evening.
Connor asked me to hang out again. Our next date is planned for tonight. He picked two places ahead of time—neither is in our neighborhoods (he had to do his research). It’s this little bit of effort that, in my convos with others, really makes a difference nowadays.
If I’m being honest, though, my gut is sending up a few warning signs with Ryan while my emotions need to catch up to my brain with Connor. I’m used to the Ryans of the world and see glimpses of my ex in him already. It’s easy to dive in head-first when the attraction is front and center, but I know that I don’t want to do the heavy-lifting while I date anymore.
With Connor, I’d normally be quick to assume it’s not a match. Not because we didn’t have a lot in common, but because the immediate attraction was missing. It’s not a novel concept to me that you can fall for someone’s character before falling for their looks. Some of my exes started as friends. But it’s sincerely hard to always put it into practice—especially when you feel like time isn’t on your side anymore (hello, 40).
Part of writing this column is to take accountability for how I date, but to also be willing to make the kinds of decisions that can finally change the course of my previous love stories. So with that, will I be able to cut things off with Ryan if he can’t match my dating efforts? Can I give Connor the time needed for something more to develop?
Time will tell how each plays out, so I guess you’ll have to come back next week to see how things are going. I’m curious to find out myself.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 19 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
In Unhinged, San Diego local and SDM editor Nicolle Monico shares her experiences dating in the citywhile hopefully finding love in the process.
“What I’m hearing is that you don’t like to be the one answering questions because you don’t feel like you have much to offer,” says a stranger sitting in front of me, five minutes after I meet him.
I start to sweat. This happens a lot when I get nervous, and not in a charming way. It’s the kind that lingers on your upper lip as you talk so you’re continually wiping your face.
I’m sitting in a large circle. It feels as though neon signs blink overhead, calling out my insecurities, as I scan the room of 25 other singles. We begin the second half of the mixer, starting with a meditation before discussing “authentic relating,” a concept that author Ryel Kestano laid out in his book Authentic Relating: A Guide to Rich, Meaningful, Nourishing Relationships.
As we meditate, I question why I’m here, who I could ever meet in this environment. Is finding a partner just not for me? Is everyone else as uncomfortable as I am?
Being a little uncomfortable is kind of the point, though. Authentic relating is designed to slice through the shallow pleasantries of the typical first date. “When you practice authentic relating, you are bringing your whole self into the relationship,” Singer says. “You’re not strategizing; you’re not playing games; you’re not changing yourself to be some version that you think the other person is going to like better than the real. And being seen and heard is healing.”
Kestano defines three levels of conversation: informational (pure facts), personal (feelings about facts), and relational.
“[The relational level] is a conversation where you are revealing your experience and what it feels like to be in this moment with the other person. It is always new,” Singer explains. “It is unscripted. This moment that we are having here has literally never happened before.”
According to Singer, level three is the game-changing key to connecting authentically with others. She asks us to share with each other what is “alive” for us in this moment. In less woo-woo terms: How are you actually feeling as you’re being asked to get to know this person?
As we follow Singer’s prompts, my conversation partner zeroes in on the fact that I tend to push attention off of myself because I don’t enjoy feeling vulnerable with strangers. (Truthfully, this column is not easy to write, at all.)
It’s a far cry from the “What do you do?” convos I usually have with acquaintances. In this setting, I couldn’t feign perfection and hide the parts of me that feel complicated or weak. But neither could he.
As we spoke, I learned that he had never participated in any type of dating meet-up or event like this and that it was overwhelming for him—so much so that during a mid-session break, he quietly slipped out and went home. Nevertheless, our mutual willingness to analyze our reactions and interactions humanized him. I found myself caring about him more than I would have had we just prattled about our favorite hobbies.
This is what seems to be missing in dating right now. Frustrated and fed up by endless failed dates and used to the split-second decision-making of swiping on apps, we might find it difficult to muster the energy to really connect with someone new, at least until we’ve assessed whether they’re worth the effort.
But maybe that’s the problem. What if we approached every date as a chance to engage with an interesting new person, whether or not it leads to a relationship? Every stranger has a story to tell. “We think that people connect to the glossy version of ourselves,” Singer says. “ But actually, where most connection takes place is with the messiest parts of our human experience.”
And, if we buy into Kestano’s words, being willing to get deep right away can help foster relationships built on honesty, integrity, trust, and wholeness.
The singles event wasn’t what I had expected, and it wasn’t always easy to release my ego and follow Singer’s suggestions. But I’m glad I went. The thing is, though, I’m nervous to share this post this week, because it all feels so obvious.
Yet, from what I’ve seen—and read in the flood of DMs I’ve received since starting this series—we’re not actually putting these ideas into practice. Could our perspective on dating change if we started seeing one-off dates as a good thing—an opportunity to learn something new about others and ourselves?
After all, I didn’t meet anyone that night, but I did use some of these methods on my first date with Connor (not his real name) this past Monday. He asked me out again (more on this later). Maybe he was attracted to my mess.
As always, thanks for following along. See you next Friday!
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 19 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
In Unhinged, San Diego local and SDM editor Nicolle Monico shares her experiences dating in the city, seeks advice from relationship experts, and dissects the current landscape—while hopefully finding love in the process.
Last year, WalletHub named San Diego the ninth best city in the US for singles wanting to date. But if my dating apps and convos with other local singles are any indication of how true that is, I call BS. Sure, there are plenty of people open to dating, but finding commitment in a city full of Peter Pans is a different story.
I’ve lived in San Diego for 15 years and have dated in this town in my 20s, 30s, and now 40s. I’ve spent weeks chatting with a potential partner only to learn later that they aren’t ready for a relationship (even though their profile said otherwise). I’ve even had a guy leave my side to pick up food for a BBQ, then text me from the road that he’s breaking up with me.
I recently read a quote from Glynnis Macnicol, author of No One Tells You This—her debut memoir on women and singleness—that rang true. “Culturally there is a lot of messaging out there that after the age of 40, if you have not acquired a partner or child, you are sort of in a no man’s land of invisibility,” she toldRefinery 29.
Oof. I feel this.
Being single in your late 30s and 40s (not by choice), feels invisible—at least as a woman. You’re unseen, you’re in the way. No one really knows what to do with you in the dating world. You’re out of the PB nightlife scene and past the cut-off for young professional meet-up groups. Your married friends only have married friends. And dating apps just aren’t working anymore.
Then you have the US Census Bureau telling us that, currently, 57 percent of single adults aren’t interested in a relationship or casual dating. Great. Perfect. And according to a recent PEW research study, “A quarter of 40-year-old Americans have never been married, more than in any other time since data has been collected.”
Have we all just given up? Or has the culture shifted so far to one side that we’re all messier, more discontent, and unsure of how to make real connections nowadays?
I’d like some answers, or at least, some guidance on how single people are supposed to navigate a world filled with swipes, ghosting, and grown-ass adults saying they aren’t ready to commit.
My last relationship lasted three years, but there were so many ups and downs that I’m still working through some lingering whiplash. I inevitably redownloaded the dreaded apps. Hinge was my go-to. After a year, I deleted it one night in a fit of frustration.
So, over the next few months, I’ll be ditching the apps (getting un-Hinge-d, if you will), diving back into the wild world of dating, and sharing my experiences right here for all. I’m hoping that by getting vulnerable, while digging into San Diego’s dating scene, those who also feel unseen can start to realize they’re not alone. Together, maybe we can learn how to better find love in 2024. I’m genuinely hoping to meet someone special.
I’ll be documenting my personal dating experiences while working with local matchmaker and relationship coach Sophy Singer, dissecting dates and conversations, talking with experts in the field, unearthing current research on dating and mental health, and recounting the stories of other singles in San Diego so that we can figure this out together.
Up first: Tonight’s Valentine’s Day workout and mixer with F45 and Sophy Love. A little flirting, a little sweat, and a healthy amount of awkwardness—honestly, it sounds just like my first time.
Nicolle Monico is an award-winning writer and the director of creative projects, digital editor for San Diego Magazine with more than 19 years of experience in media including Outside Run, JustLuxe and The San Francisco Chronicle.
A perfectly designed home rarely happens by accident. Those kitchens that feel effortless and rooms that seem to tell a story the second you walk in? They’re usually the work of someone who knows exactly what they’re doing.
It’s knowing which ideas will actually work, which materials will hold up over time, and how to turn a collection of choices into a space that feels intentional. That’s where a professional interior designer comes in.
For the American Society of Interior Designers (ASID) California San Diego Chapter, the goal is to help people see interior design as more than just the finished look. Behind every well-designed space is a process built on technical expertise. Designers are educated in everything from professional software and construction details to building codes, space planning, materials, and functionality.
Courtesy of ASID
“People don’t always realize how much goes on behind the scenes,” Kirsten Recce , current president of the ASID California San Diego Chapter, says. “Our designers are not just doing furniture placement and color selection and picking out new fluffy pillows. That’s not what they’re trained for.”
ASID members bring formal education, continued learning, and industry knowledge to their projects, helping create spaces that are not only beautiful, but designed to work. A paint color that changes completely depending on the lighting. A material that looks beautiful in a showroom but doesn’t make sense for everyday life. A layout that photographs well but doesn’t function for the people living there. These are the details where professional guidance can make all the difference.
Still, one of the biggest misconceptions about hiring an interior designer is that it’s reserved for massive renovations, luxury homes, or people who already know exactly what they want. The process can feel intimidating. Where do you begin? Is a designer worth the investment? What if you only need help with one room?
ASID’s answer: start with one hour.
ASID’s Spruce Up events break down one of the biggest barriers between homeowners and professional design: knowing where to begin. Held twice a year, the community program gives homeowners the chance to work directly with an ASID designer through a one-hour, $125 consultation in their own home. Whether you’re looking for advice on furniture placement, window treatments, kitchen and bath updates, remodeling ideas, vacation rentals, color selections or something else entirely, the upcoming September 2026 event offers an approachable way to get expert guidance before committing to a full project. Signups are open through Sept. 7, with consultations taking place Sept. 21 through Oct. 31. Proceeds benefit ASID San Diego’s educational and community programs. Register here!
Courtesy of ASID
“It’s a great opportunity for people who are in that exploratory phase,” Recce says. “Maybe they’re not sure they want to hire an interior designer yet, or they think it sounds daunting or expensive. This gives them a chance to discover what working with a designer is actually like.”
Design is personal. A good designer isn’t just creating a beautiful room; they’re helping create a space that fits the way someone lives.
“We’re a resource to all of San Diego County,” Recce says. “It doesn’t cost anything to pick up the phone and call and ask. We’ll answer.”
A Rare Look Inside Callaway Golf’s San Diego Test Center
The Ely Callaway Performance Center is where tour-level fittings, cutting-edge technology, and golf equipment you can’t buy yet all come together
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
By Tina Mickelson
“Come test something.”
Those are quite possibly my three favorite words in the English language—all due respect to “I love you” or the highly underrated “you were right.”
I’ve been a PGA Golf Professional since 1994, and yes, full bias disclosure, a Callaway Golf Ambassador for 18 years. One of the bonuses that comes with that combo is access to the Ely Callaway Performance Center—a place so exclusive it gives “velvet rope” vibes.
Originally opened in 2006 as a highly functional (yet not exactly breathtaking) test facility, the ECPC got a serious glow-up in 2018 when Gil Hanse (along with partner Geoff Shackelford) turned it into what can only be described as a fully engineered golf playground. Hanse is no stranger to golf course renovations. In 2024, he completed an extensive redesign of the Omni La Costa North Course in Carlsbad, so it could host the NCAA Division 1 Golf Championships. He also worked on acclaimed courses like Winged Foot, Merion Golf Club, and Oakmont Country Club.
In just two months, it went from a standard test center and R&D lab to a fully dialed-in golf playground.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
What was once purely practical is now intentionally designed to be both precise and inspiring. The targets are staggered with purpose—forcing creative shot-making while also calling you out on your actual distances (no more “that’s my 150-yard club … ish”).
Add a massive hitting area, bunkers and greens that mimic real on-course conditions, a “Himalayas” putting green (named for its roller-coaster undulations), an upgraded indoor putting lab, and a 120-decibel sound system blasting a very golf-appropriate playlist, and suddenly it’s a rare blend of high-performance testing facility and “don’t mind if I stay here all day” energy. Since this isn’t exactly open to the public, SDM asked me to take you behind the curtain.
As the iron gates part, it feels less like arriving at a practice facility and more like being granted backstage access at a rock concert—if the bandmembers were made entirely of launch monitors and perfectly manicured turf.
There are no mats. No guessing. No “I think that one felt good?” Just conditions that mirror exactly what tour players see in competition. Because when you’re testing equipment at this level, accuracy isn’t a bonus—it’s the whole point.
Even the sand matters. Different textures. Different densities. Because bunkers have personalities, too, and they are often unfriendly. And the golf balls? Brand. New. Not the usual “these have seen some things” range balls. New balls mean consistent spin, truer trajectory, and no surprises. The older a golf ball gets—and the more it’s been baked in the sun, scuffed, or generally lived a full and complicated life—the less reliable it becomes. Think of it like this: fresh ball, predictable performance; old range ball, slight chaos with a side of mystery.
I’m escorted to my personal hitting bay—basically a pop-up shaded oasis stocked with enough equipment to make a gear junkie weak in the knees. Shafts in every weight and profile imaginable. Heads lined up like they’re waiting to be drafted by their favorite team.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
Toptracer technology was patiently waiting to track every one of my swings, each shot instantly delivering ball speed, launch, spin, carry distance, and dispersion (a polite way of saying consistency, or lack thereof), so there’s no guessing—just data telling the truth, whether I like it or not.
We start with irons. Different heads, different feels, different results. When I miss a shot, the ball tends to leak right, so we check lie angle. A quick adjustment—2 degrees upright—and suddenly the clubface is consistently square at impact like it remembered its job. Effort level: down. Ball flight: improved. Confidence: creeping back.
Next we look at the different shaft options—because nothing says “fun afternoon” like realizing a higher kick point can change your entire golf identity. Shaft flex (how much the shaft bends during your swing) helps determine whether you get more height and distance or more control, while kick point (where the shaft bends the most) influences your ball flight—lower kick point for higher launch, higher kick point for a flatter, more penetrating shot. In other words, one small tweak and suddenly you’re hitting shots you’d normally only describe later, slightly exaggerated, over a glass of wine.
Then we move through the bag: hybrids, fairway woods, drivers, wedges. It’s a full rotation of “try this,” “now try this,” and “okay wait … THAT one.”
And yes—the new Quantum driver and fairway woods made an appearance. Without getting too deep in the weeds, they’re faster, more forgiving, and smarter (thanks to AI face mapping) than previous models. Translation: Even your mishits are now slightly less embarrassing. And they were not the only things getting tested. My patience was under attack because the driver and woods would not be available to the public for a good three months.
Courtesy of Ely Callaway Performance Center
Watching the fitting team work is like watching a Formula 1 pit crew. Clubs are swapped in seconds. Shafts tightened, adjusted, replaced. One minute you’re swinging something that seems “fine,” and the next, you’re holding a club that feels like it is a part of your DNA.
Then there’s the putter fitting. Drivers are physics. Putters are therapy. Inside the putting lab, sensors track everything—tempo, face angle, path—things you didn’t even know could be measured. Within minutes, my data politely informs me that my putter face is slightly closed at impact. Not shocking, but also not ideal.
A few quick adjustments—different head (with a bit more weight at the toe to discourage the face swinging closed at impact), shorter shaft (so I feel more over the ball, which helps my eyeline)—and suddenly the ball starts rolling exactly where I’m aimed.
Same stroke. Same golfer. Completely different outcome. If only the rest of life worked like that.
And then there’s the part that feels slightly classified. The ECPC isn’t “just” a performance center—it’s also where future equipment lives before the public even knows it exists. I’ve been there when certain clubs were basically under surveillance. Not “don’t touch,” but more “please keep phones in your pocket.”
It’s golf’s version of Area 51. Except instead of aliens, it’s drivers that won’t hit shelves for another year—and like I mentioned, waiting is not my strong suit.
Getting to test the newest equipment isn’t just a perk—it’s part of the job. It’s what allows me to stand in front of students and say, “I’ve tried it. I know what works and what doesn’t. And more importantly, I know why.” And if I happen to sprint to my car every time the phone rings and someone says, “Come test something” … well, that’s just professional courtesy.
Callaway isn’t the only place to get your swing analyzed and clubs fitted. You can stroll into big retail spots like The Golf Mart or Golf Galaxy, book a next-level session at a dedicated studio like Club Champion or True Spec Golf, test brand-specific gear at various manufacturing companies (many located in Carlsbad), or even combine a lesson and a fitting at GOLFTEC. And let’s not forget your local golf course, where fittings happen on actual turf, on a driving range you have some history with—many times with the golf professional who is familiar with your swing so they can give you valuable input. With this many options, there’s really no excuse, other than pride, to keep blaming your clubs.
It was the summer of 1999. MTV, The Matrix, and first-generation PlayStation glowed on tube TV sets all over America. What a time to be alive. Smartphones weren’t yet stealing people from the moment. Cultural was a shared reality. During the last few minutes of the monoculture, Tony Hawk executed the first-ever 900 at X Games V in San Francisco. That’s two and a half aerial rotations with a side of the dizzies.
The time had run out on the Vert Best Trick competition long before the 11th attempt when he pulled off the fateful feat. Nobody cared. Not the judges, not the competition, and certainly not the crowd. “Let that bird fly,” they said. Once the trick was landed, they partied like it was 1999 … because it was.
That was the tipping point when the skateboarding world exploded, going from counterculture to a national phenomenon. Shortly after that, “Tony Hawk’s Pro Skater” video game came out, introducing millions of kids to what skate culture looked like. Oh, the game had a killer punk soundtrack, too.
We can all thank Hawk for the globalization of skateboarding. But we can also recognize his local influence and how San Diego County continues to be a hub for skateboarders young and old, for competitors and street skaters. To see it all, go to Park De La Cruz in City Heights—or, heck, any other skatepark in the county—which, at 19,000 square feet, is about twice the size of the average skatepark and has signature features like an M-shaped transition ramp. The amount of talent that continues to evolve in this county is a testament to deep-rooted skate culture and world-class athletes supporting the next generation.
Photo Credit: Casiel Sanchez
The Skatepark
I’m a little early for a skate lesson with pro skater Mike Owen when I get to Linda Vista Skatepark. In the 2010s, Owen ranked as one of the world’s top bowl riders. He’s the founder of San Diego Skateboarding and has “helped thousands of kids, teens, and adults learn to skate safely, confidently, and with style,” the company’s site says. And now it’s my turn. We start the lesson on the nearby tennis courts, getting my basic foot mechanics down. Safety before style.
In terms of street plaza features, the massive Linda Vista Skatepark is loaded with rails, stairs, manuals, and ledges. There are more bowls than you can get from Cava: a flow bowl, backyard-style pool, and vert bowl. The main feature is a full pipe for advanced line riders. It’s a hell of a park, even if somebody just wants to watch the action from the 100-foot-long pedestrian skybridge overhead.
Right now, San Diego has over 50 public skateparks scattered throughout the county. “There are now more [skateparks], more resources for them, and more terrain,” Owen tells me. “Now, they’re offering different competitive style skateparks that help for competitions. The best parks have a variety of different terrain where you have things for beginners and bigger transitions. Not every town has that.”
San Diego, luckily, does. But despite the bounty, Owen believes there should still be more—public skateparks are safe spaces for all to learn and develop on-board skills. Without them, a huge portion of San Diego’s culture withers. Encinitas could be the next city to add a skatepark to the county’s roster: In early July, the Encinitas City Council appointed 12 local skaters and community members for the newly established Skate Feature Committee. In partnership with two councilmembers, the committee’s purpose is to design a working skatepark or feature for the city.
But like any big project, Owen says, it’s a long process to add another skatepark to the community.
“I wish it were easier,” he says. “When there are different contractors for different things, [there’s only] a certain amount of time to build. It gets tricky.”
Then there’s the matter of funding the actual construction and development of the skatepark. That usually comes from grants, fundraisers, and donations. For reference, Linda Vista Skatepark was built on a $4.46 million grant from the California Department of Housing and Community Development in 2014. With an additional $40,000 donated by the Tony Hawk Foundation, the park opened in 2018 and is the largest in San Diego’s Parks and Recreation system. The best way to get a skatepark in your neighborhood, Owen says, is to start a petition and reach out to your city.
Photo Credit: Blair Alley
The Street Skaters
Jordan Thrower’s first street skate sesh at San Diego City College in 2003 ended with a police chase. The campus was swarming with skaters riding rails, jumping stairs, and grinding tricks on benches, curbs, and ledges. When the cops got on their loudspeaker telling them not to run, everyone obviously ran. Back then, cops would give tickets and confiscate boards. The vibe has loosened since. “Now, the police don’t really care,” Thrower says. “They just make you leave. It’s not anything crazy.”
Street skating is when riders use real-world urban obstacles, rather than pristinely designed bowls or ramps—such as in college campuses, downtown areas, corporate buildings, and malls. Abandoned mini-golf courses and construction sites do the trick, too.
Thrower says the street skating hub here isn’t as huge as it once was. Thanks to modern technology and social media, skaters aren’t tied to any certain place to create skate videos. You know, those videos that could have been taken this year but have the low-fi vibe of 2004, where skaters carve down stairwells into parking lots, over mailboxes, or across park benches. The silver lining: Even though there are fewer street skaters than there once was, those who stayed in San Diego are still tight.
“Everyone skates with each other and knows each other here,” Thrower says. “In LA, it’s not really like that. It’s small there, but not everybody knows each other, and they don’t really skate with each other too much. They just have a lot of little crews.”
Back in 2015, Thrower started his own street team and brand that sells boards and shirts called Tantrum. The Tantrum team is split between San Diego and San Francisco. It doesn’t take much to be a part of a skate team. You just have to be a good hang.
“The way I pick people [for the team] is if I can get along with them,” he says. “It doesn’t even really matter if they’re that good. If you’re likable and funny, you can pretty much be on the team.”
Photo Credit: Marc Wierenega
The Future
Running it up to North County, a Vista-based nonprofit organization called Exposure Skate has been shaping up the youth since 2012. Its mission is to give more opportunities to otherwise underrepresented women, girls, and non-binary individuals by offering classes and camps. This, to build up confidence and community. We could all use a little bit of that, eh?
Thanks to Exposure Skate, 13-year-old Joey Yarbrough has found herself competing in the LA Olympic trials. (Her first time on a skateboard came at just 18 months old at an Exposure Skate Rising event.)
While competing for Team USA in Rome in June of this year, she finished 13th at the first Olympic qualifier for LA28. Currently ranked 21st in the world and 5th among American women, the young prodigy is blooming. And she’s in good company and mentorship from her biggest influence, Bryce Wettstein.
“She taught me at the first Exposure Skate Rising when I was little,” Yarbrough recalls. “I compete and skate with her all the time now, and it’s super fun. [At Exposure,] it feels so good to have someone there to help me whenever I need it. They’re like my family, always encouraging me and always there for me.”
Yarbrough will be just 15 years old when the Olympics go down in LA. She’s following the Olympic torch carried by other locals such as Wettstein, Ruby Lilley, Jordyn Barratt, and Exposure Skate’s Amelia Brodka.
“I’m working my hardest to get there,” she says. “I’ll also work my hardest to go higher in the Olympics, maybe on podium. That’s just my dream. So, hopefully it’ll come true.”
Jake Peterson is a San Diego-based journalist and culture writer. His work explores the city’s music scene, sports, local characters, and the offbeat corners of San Diego’s subcultures.
Growing up, Laika Nur, MD, Scripps Clinic sports medicine specialist, loved watching beach volleyball when the Association of Volleyball Professionals tour came to her hometown of Chicago. A talented volleyball player herself, she remembers sitting in the stands all day, and once, even got a couple autographs. Years later, Dr. Nur was attending a professional event focused on women’s sports, and the discussion turned to a new professional women’s volleyball league. The general manager and coaching staff for San Diego’s team, the Mojo, happened to be in attendance, and Dr. Nur took the opportunity to ask them if they needed a team doctor. Flash forward to the Mojo’s inaugural 2024 season, when Dr. Nur officially became the team physician. Click here to read more about Dr. Nur and how she incorporates lessons she learned on the court into her practice.
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