santa monica

We took Atlantic all the way to the Pacific, traveling from the San Gabriel Valley to Long Beach on foot. On the last morning of May, a group of us set out at 7:45 a.m. from a barren In-N-Out parking lot in Alhambra, where Atlantic Boulevard begins. We kept walking until we reached the water, 12 hours and more than 55,000 steps later.

In all, our group passed eight freeways, two highways, and one river, twice. We walked through a dozen cities: Alhambra, Monterey Park, Commerce, Vernon, Maywood, Bell, Cudahy, South Gate, Lynwood, Compton, Long Beach and, of course, Los Angeles.

We spent only about 1.5 miles, a half-hour, in the city of Los Angeles itself, all in East L.A. We spent more time in Lynwood than Los Angeles. We spent far more time — more than a third of our day — in Long Beach.

To walk Atlantic was to connect the dots about how our region functions economically, from the port to the factories to the suburbs. It was also to realize just how expansive and multifaceted Long Beach is.

This is the sixth such walk of one lengthy street that, ending at the ocean, we’ve completed across Los Angeles. Our pursuit began in 2022 with Wilshire’s 16 miles, continued in 2023 with Sunset’s 25, maxed out in 2024 with Western’s 28-plus miles, and stepped back in 2025 with Pico’s 15.5 miles. Earlier this year, roughly 30 of us strolled all of Santa Monica’s 14.5 miles.

This time, we started with a group of 16, ranging in age from 20-something to sexagenarian, and finished with 12. Some walkers left and joined us along the way. Ten, including one Long Beach local, completed the street.

We’ve been playfully calling our annual jaunts the Big Walk. This one, we called the Bigger Walk. I suppose that makes Western the Biggest. We’ve come to believe the ideal distance for an all-day effort is about 20 miles. That seems long enough for it to feel like a real feat and short enough to include more interested folks and ample break time.

After a tranquil time on Santa Monica, I wrote that we expected Atlantic to be the opposite experience — “unwieldy, at times unwelcoming, and excessively industrial.” That was an overstatement at best and factually wrong at worst.

We did visit Vernon, the city that proudly promotes itself as “exclusively industrial.” But by one measure, Atlantic was literally the most welcoming street we’ve done yet. Many more people greeted us. The actual street was at least as pedestrian-friendly as Western or Sunset. At no point did we have to walk on the road or in a minuscule median.

We did, though, have to cross five crosswalks just to continue on Atlantic at one point, at an absurd intersection with Ferguson Drive, Goodrich Boulevard, Telegraph Road and Triggs Street. Railroad tracks and the famed old East L.A. Union Pacific Station stood to our left, and the 5 freeway to our right. Clearly, pedestrian convenience had not been front of mind during the area’s planning.

Oil might be the simplest way to illustrate how Atlantic differs from more famous L.A. streets. On Pico Boulevard, there are oil derricks hidden behind elaborate, towering facades. Along Atlantic, the derricks are just everywhere in plain sight for a while. We did walk atop both the Long Beach Oil Field, a mega giant field, and the Wilmington Oil Field, the third-largest oil field in the contiguous United States.

That’s Atlantic, lacking in pretense, not hiding anything, but exceeding our expectations. We saw more plants native to our region, including Cleveland sage and Sacred datura, than along Santa Monica. And we kept encountering vibrant pockets where we did not know they would be. Monterey Park was the first to impress us, with gorgeous Cascades Park tucked into a lush little valley.

In East L.A., chilaquiles, tamales, tejuino and ribs were all available street-side, and one of our members noticed the newer location of the famed La Azteca Tortilleria in a strip mall near the Metro station. Azteca has been the No. 1 seed in Times columnist Gustavo Arellano’s tortilla tasting tournaments with KCRW; we picked up a couple dozen to go.

Farther south, Bell is best known locally as the home of brazenly corrupt city officials earlier this century. When we passed through, the shade provided by a pocket park in the city center became a crucial respite for our lunch break. Across the street, a community market was just starting up for the afternoon. We caught a couple songs from a talented mariachi band.

Once we crossed the 105 overpass, we quickly encountered four sizable parks, each no more than two miles from the last. We saw one pump track, two tennis courts and skate parks, several sports fields, and an impressive number of food trucks, including Instagram-famous Kitchen’s Corner BBQ. At least another dozen food vendors seemed to be setting up for evening service as we marched by in the late afternoon.

By the third park we passed, we were in Long Beach, specifically North Long Beach. The fourth, Scherer Park, is a sprawling, 26-acre gem. Soon enough we were in Bixby Knolls, where, for more than a decade now, Long Beach officials have been investing in improving bicycle and pedestrian access. It shows. We had a delightful happy hour on Ambitious Ales’ front patio overlooking Atlantic.

Official lists of the longest L.A.-area streets are almost impossible to find. Often, such lists are kept by cities. The longer the street, the less likely that all of it is within one city’s limits.

We can say this: There are not many stretches of a single street with the same name longer than Atlantic in the L.A. Basin. Western Avenue, definitely. Imperial Highway, depending on your perspective on what constitutes a street. Sunset is about the same length. And that’s about it.

Unless you want to be particularly persnickety and disqualify Atlantic on the grounds that it technically has two names. For its northern 10 miles, Atlantic is a boulevard. For its southern 15, it’s an avenue. Where Maywood becomes Bell, it switches. But it’s Atlantic all the same, and that was good enough for us.

Surely you’ve been wondering about the origin of the name. Atlantic has been named for the distant ocean since the 19th century, when a Brit tried to christen a city after himself and named its three major streets Pacific, American and Atlantic avenues, from west to east. American is now Long Beach Boulevard, so it no longer makes much sense.

Speaking of names: Our Alhambra is named after a Washington Irving book inspired by his visit to the 13th-century Islamic fortress of the same name in what is now Spain. You can walk to the actual Atlantic from that Alhambra in about 150 miles.

This was easier than that, at least. If you’re eager to explore the backbone of Los Angeles, curious for a challenge, you could do worse than attacking Atlantic. I promise you’ll see something new. We saw a street juggler. We saw a live chicken and a dead turkey. We saw a discarded box of Pacifico beer that had been cooking in the sun so long it turned from yellow to white.

After we rinsed our weary feet in the Pacific, some of us waddled back up to Downtown Long Beach and scarfed down Sonoratown burritos and chivichangas before heading home. It was a Sunday well spent.

Around 7 a.m. Saturday, in a lot beside the shuttered Santa Monica Civic Auditorium, a strange set of cars and trucks began to gather. Three Model A’s. A couple of ’60 convertibles. A 1964 Chevrolet Impala station wagon. Also, a big bull on trailer wheels.

“Am I in the right place?” asked a man in one of the Model A’s.

“Going to Chicago?” asked a guy in a white Denali.

“I wish I could do the whole thing,” said Joe Hernandez of Pasadena, wistfully standing by.

This was the starting line for roughly 70 drivers who gathered to celebrate the centennial of Route 66 with a 2,448-mile, 20-day caravan to Chicago. Most had come from outside California to share an adventure with fellow “roadies” and boost awareness of the classic scenery and independent businesses along the eight-state route.

But soaring gas prices and hesitant international travelers have added uncertainty to a trip that was always going to be a logistical challenge. Day 1 alone might terrify an L.A. commuter: From the Pacific to Pasadena by surface streets, including miles on Santa Monica and Colorado boulevards.

“I don’t know how it’s all going to happen,” said Gary Daggett, president of the Old Route 66 Assn. of Texas. But he and his wife, Stephanie, have more than a little Route 66 experience to draw upon.

“This is our 30th trip over 20 years,” Daggett said. “You can’t see everything. There’s so much…. You start meeting the people, you get hooked on the people.”

Shortly before their 8:30 departure time, organizer Rhys Martin called drivers together.

“Leaving here is going to be a little complicated,” he said.

Martin, who is part of the Route 66 Road Ahead Partnership, is president of the Oklahoma Route 66 Assn., and serves as manager of the National Trust for Historic Preservation’s Preserve Route 66 initiative. For the journey, he is driving a ’64 Chevy Impala station wagon with a GPS unit inside so that armchair travelers can follow his journey on the web.

“It’s going to be impossible to keep everybody together,” he said during preparations. “We’re encouraging people to spread out and support independent businesses rather than all going to one place and demolishing the kitchen.”

In song and literature, the route is celebrated as an east-to-west journey. This caravan, running in the opposite direction, will travel from California through Arizona, New Mexico, Texas, Oklahoma, Kansas and Missouri to Illinois.

From Santa Monica, the Day 1 schedule took drivers to Beverly Hills City Hall, Grand Central Market downtown for lunch, the Chicken Boy statue and Galco’s Soda Pop Stop in Highland Park, then an overnight in Pasadena.

Day 2 takes the group from Pasadena to Barstow. Day 3, from Barstow to Needles. On June 25, the caravan is due to arrive in downtown Chicago.

The loose procession was led by a core group of 15 cars, including representatives of all eight states on the route. Since anyone can join or leave the caravan at any time, the number of vehicles will vary by the hour.

Through the decades, the road has grown from an American artifact into a global symbol of small-town Americana. Many merchants, restaurateurs and hoteliers along 66 now say that their summer customers are mostly travelers from abroad, especially Europe. One of the caravan’s drivers, in a rented pickup truck, was Dries Bessels, co-founder of the Dutch Route 66 Assn.

Though the Model A’s will surely raise eyebrows on the road, the caravan’s most startling element is the fiberglass bull representing the Amarillo-based Big Texan Steak Ranch restaurant, one of the event’s sponsors.

“It’s the same one my dad brought home in ’71. His name is Big Moo,” said Danny Lee, who co-owns the restaurant with his brother, Bobby Lee. “He’s 12 and a half feet high. About 500 pounds. It’s all fiberglass.”

In 21 cities along the drive, the Big Texan team aims to stage nightly steak-eating contests, giving free dinners to anyone who can eat 72 ounces of steak, a baked potato, three shrimp, a side salad and a roll in 60 minutes.

The caravan’s first challenge came at the Santa Monica Pier, where there was no room for the cars due to a construction project, World Cup preparations and a Children’s Hospital fundraiser. Instead, the caravan gathered by the Santa Monica Civic Auditorium. Drivers strolled over the pier for a photo op, then returned to their cars.

“Herding cats,” said George Kulakowski of Huntington Beach, at the wheel of a 1931 Ford Model A Panel Delivery truck.

Another challenge awaited in West Hollywood, where Santa Monica Boulevard (aka Route 66) was busy with crowds for the city’s WeHo Pride Street Fair. By plans laid ahead of time, most caravan vehicles detoured around the party while select caravan cars followed a police escort through the action.

This way, Martin said, “another community along Route 66 gets to share its identity with the community at large.”

By 11:15 a.m., Martin’s car had reached Sunset Boulevard in Silver Lake. Meanwhile, assorted other parades and caravans are traveling Route 66 in other states this year; most of them concentrate on short segments.

By 12:45 p.m., caravaners had met the mayor of Beverly Hills and rolled through West Hollywood’s Pride festivities, arriving at Grand Central Market, running slightly ahead of time.

On May 30, an estimated 3,596 classic cars joined a “Capital Cruise” on Route 66 in Tulsa, Okla., becoming a Guinness Book of World Records holder for the largest parade of classic cars, drawing an estimated 100,000 spectators and overwhelming local traffic.

In Arizona, the Williams Historic Route 66 Car Show was set for Friday and Saturday. In Texas, the Amarillo-based Texas Route 66 Festival is running Thursday through June 13.

In those states and beyond, the caravan from Santa Monica will find hotels and motels in every kind of condition, vintage neon, road food, blue states, red states and purple states.

As a package of Times stories described in May, some landmarks date to the highway’s days as a scene of Depression desperation in the 1930s, others to its giddy postwar years in the late 1940s and ‘50s.

Route 66 was created in 1926 as a highway stitching together hundreds of local roads. Nicknamed “the Main Street of America” by its boosters and “the Mother Road” by John Steinbeck in “The Grapes of Wrath,” the highway inspired Bobby Troup’s song “(Get Your Kicks on) Route 66” in 1946.

But economic life along Route 66 has been precarious since the late 1960s, when interstate highways and chain hotels began stealing traffic away from the older, slower road. After Route 66 was decommissioned as a highway in 1985, about 85% of the old route remained in use, often as small-town thoroughfares, country highways and frontage roads alongside Interstate 40.

Efforts to save and rebuild the route as a historic resource began in the late 1980s and gained ground after the 2006 release of the Pixar/Disney animated features “Cars,” which tells the story of the highway’s rise and fall. In small towns such as Tucumcari, N.M., and Seligman, Ariz., the highway remains central to local identity and economy.

This year’s centennial improvements along the route “are things that are going to go into the future,” Martin said. “The real impact is going to be next year and the years after.”

People don’t come to White Point/Royal Palms Beach for a lazy day of sunbathing, they come here to explore. At low tide, the rocky shoreline is a maze of crater-like formations and tide pools where visitors crouch over searching for life. During my visit, two men poking around with fishing rods excitedly showed me a small octopus they had spotted in one of the crevices. It’s no wonder: White Point offers some of the most diverse tide pools in Southern California.

If you park in the upper parking and playground area, the experience starts to feel special before even reaching the water. Brass plaques placed throughout the bluff describe the area’s rich history, while dramatic, panoramic views of the rugged cliffs and stony coastline unfold below. From there, it’s about a 10-minute walk downhill to the beach itself. The rocky shore is not ideal for swimming, but scuba divers come to experience the underwater hot springs.

During a recent visit, construction equipment occupied one end of the beach due to work on a sewage line, though the lifeguard on duty assured me that treated wastewater is released about three miles offshore, where deep ocean currents disperse it before it can affect water quality at the coast.

Best for: dramatic views, tide-pooling, scuba diving, fishing

Bathrooms: Yes (additional portable toilets also available at bottom of hill)

Parking: Lot immediately after entrance (10 minutes downhill walk to beach) is free weekdays, $8 on weekends; there’s another lot right by the beach, which is $6 after 9 a.m. on weekdays, $8 on weekends

Dog-friendly: Leashed dogs are permitted on the paved trails beyond the rocks

ADA-accessible: ADA parking, but no wheelchair available due to the rocks

What’s nearby: The nearby White Point Nature Preserve offers 102 acres of coastal habitat and hiking trails. There isn’t much in terms of food or drink in this area, so bring sustenance and make use of the picnic tables on the beach’s upper bluff portion.