By Mona Gable / AAA Magazine / Illustration by Alexia Lozano / July 10, 2025
A couple of years ago, the city of San Diego permanently closed the Ocean Beach Municipal Pier. A study deemed the battered landmark “beyond its useful life.” With sea levels rising, the city judged it too impractical to spend millions of dollars to repair the structure. The final blow came in December 2023 when a storm knocked out a support pile, which promptly sank. My heart sank, too. If it were any other pier, I might not have cared so much. But this was my pier.
Christened in 1966, the 1,971-foot pier was—and for the moment, remains—the longest concrete pier on the West Coast. At its end, the pier split into a T, making it seem to reach forever. I was 13 the year it opened. Already a die-hard bodysurfer, I longed to join my brothers as they surfed next to the pier. But back then, girls were not particularly welcome in the male-dominated surfing world.
So the top of the pier became my refuge. I could walk out to where the waves were cresting—past the fishermen waiting for their lines to tug, past the tourists snapping photos—to watch the guys ride to shore. I could lean over the rail, gaze down into the water, follow the tides and riptides, and sometimes spot dolphins.
I often stood at the pier’s end, blissfully alone, reflecting. Amid the tang of salty air and the burnt-orange sunsets, I often felt as though I were in a painting. My family was broken; the rancor between my parents was incessant. But the pier restored me.
For a few months in my late teens, I lived with two friends in Ocean Beach. We were all attending San Diego State University and were too busy studying and working to fritter away hours at the beach. But I still made time to walk the pier with Freddie, my former nanny. Our strolls were sacred events. Arm in arm we’d go, reminiscing, laughing, and talking about fashion, my erratic mother, and getting older.
I moved to Berkeley at age 19 and eventually settled in L.A. To my delight, whenever I returned to visit San Diego the pier remained immutable, a source of solace in my ever-changing life. That’s why news of the closure felt so crushing.
Not long ago, I visited the pier again. The tide was in, seagulls and surfers were out, and the sky was awash in blues. After climbing the stairs at the base, I peered through the locked metal gate at the entrance. Devoid of people, the pier was eerie: only some concrete benches, a rusty list of fishing regulations, and a “Keep Out” sign.
Now, an effort is underway to build a new pier. The approved design would use the current footprint but the structure would have more space, with a fishing terrace and a shaded surfers’ lounge. Construction is expected to cost $170 million to $190 million, contingent on fundraising. If the pier does get reborn, and I hope it does, the resulting structure wouldn’t be my pier. But for a new generation of girls, it just might be theirs.
Very nicely said for a whole lot of us.
I miss the pier so much. I am doubtful I will live long enough to see the new one….it probably won’t even start being built for another 10 years. I miss the walks with my elderly aunt and the quesadillas we would snack on in the cafe. I feel lucky to have own wonderful memories on the pier.
So well written—thank you. Your words brought back a flood of memories from my own experiences at the OB Pier in the early ’90s.
I grew up in the suburbs of Chicago, an ’80s kid riding skateboards and BMX bikes. We’d watch all the California skate videos at the local skate shop, and I remember feeling this deep jealousy of the kids who actually lived that life. I wanted to be there more than anything.
After high school, I joined the Navy, and by some stroke of luck, I was stationed at North Island. I arrived in late August of ’93. After a few months of figuring out the lay of the land, I made some friends who lived in OB—and that became my escape from the barracks.
That first Thanksgiving, we spent the day with more friends in OB. I remember walking out to the end of the pier while the turkey was in the oven, looking back at the shoreline and thinking: I cannot believe I am here. I can still recall the sounds, the smells, the view… It was the coolest Thanksgiving I’d ever had—and the first one I’d spent in warm weather.
Not long after that, I moved out of the barracks and found a place in OB. What a time that was. A couple of years later, I ended up in PB. While their pier was pretty epic, it just didn’t have the same soul. The OB Pier belongs to Obecians. It had a vibe all its own—unlike anywhere else.
Eventually, I moved back to Chicago, then on to New York, and by another stroke of luck, found myself back in California—this time on the Central Coast just outside Monterey. It was different, yet very cool and thankfully and the tacos still rocked!
Now, sitting here on a rainy day in North Carolina, I find myself thinking back on that pier and the impact it had on some kid from Lake County, Illinois. I’ve been around a few blocks in this life, but some of my best memories are of walking out of Sunshine Company after a couple of beers, grabbing tacos across the street (forget the name but it was under the tattoo parlor) and heading out to the pier to watch the sun go down. Good times. Hope a new pier takes shape for new memories to be made
Why is OB proposing a the same old boring peer design. The design to me is the same as all other peers or worse and is basically just a bridge out into the water.
Why not do something completely different.
Build a gondola system instead out into the water. Should cost a lot less and make ocean Beach much more unique..
How did you come up with such a strange comparison, Ed? A pier is not a bridge, it does not allow anybody to go from point A to point B. And as for being the same old boring pier design, like a wheel on a bicycle there isn’t much one can change of the basic structure. Wheels have to be round or they won’t work, and piers have to stick out into the ocean. Functionality beats esthetics.
I think the new design chosen is definitely not quite the same ‘old boring’ design of every single pier I’ve ever surfed next to (West Coast, East Coast, or the Gulf of Mexico). The sweeping curves of the double-decker design is quite different to the eye though I admit they all just stuck out into the ocean.
Whether it ever even gets built is another question that won’t be answered anytime soon. The old pier may just be allowed to disintegrate and collapse into the ocean beforehand. It will, ya know? The ocean always wins these battles.
Since the OB Hotel’s surf cam doesn’t pan any longer from north to south, I don’t get to watch my old Southside Reef surf spot breaking anymore. So many memories of good days there back in the late 70s, early/mid 80s… And I’ve noticed there aren’t any recent photos showing the underside of the Pier posted since the new design was chosen. I wonder how much worse the rot is proceeding? Now there are two pilings laying on the bottom though…so I’m assuming only those that surf Southside are aware of how much worse it is getting.
Ed, I won’t remark much about your gondola idea except for these two: Imagine the electric bills, and how the hell is one going to be able to fish off a gondola???
The 50s/60s/70s/80s uniqueness of OB that I grew up in and remember ain’t never coming back but if people can band together and somewhat mitigate the damage being inflicted by crass commercialization and the never-ending greed of those in power…some of what it was may be saved. Guess we’ll see about that, eh?
sealintheSelkirks