Bump, Set, Spike

While the seductive nature of train travel has taken on mythic proportions for writers and musicians, the romance of it, when it comes to the rest of us, has fallen on deaf ears -- cars are cheaper, planes quicker. Trains aren‘t practical anymore. The thought of playing Cary Grant to some stranger’s Eva Marie Saint isn‘t enough of an incentive. It’s just too much time spent waiting when we could get there so much quicker. But for me, the idea of America‘s endless miles, unknown towns, and maybe even catching a glimpse of a farmer’s daughter, quells those desires for convenience.

For the like-minded, there‘s Amtrak, the nationalized passenger-train service that has been forced to compete with an instant-access world. Its newest rail line, the Pacific Surfliner, replaces the aging San Diegan, and covers the same San Diego--to--San Luis Obispo terrain. The Surfliner appeals to business travelers, who can access the Internet from their seats, and to families, who can avoid the torturous car ride. Among the many stops are the tourist destinations of Santa Barbara, Anaheim and Grover Beach (near Pismo Beach). With eight new trains, the Surfliner offers 11 daily roundtrips from L.A. to San Diego, four to and from Santa Barbara, and one to and from San Luis Obispo.

The route tends to get busy, with 465,000 passengers on the San Diegan last summer alone. This was confirmed on a recent trip to Santa Barbara, where the rail’s soothing hum was muted occasionally by screaming 12-year-olds and 10 a.m. bloody mary drinkers relishing the journey. However, by the time we reached Ventura, everyone had fallen silent and was gazing out at the sobering image of crashing waves beneath us. The train took an hour longer than would a car, but we arrived at Santa Barbara‘s old mission-style station without the wrecked nerves the 101 typically inspires. The station is in the heart of downtown, on State Street, barely half a mile from the beach.

On the way back, we entered the Valley at night into an amazingly serene Van Nuys. From the Simi Valley Pass, the endless stream of lights gave the city some sense, some peace. The children slept, and the rest of us relaxed without anticipation as we crept toward our final destination.

For reservations, call 1-800-USA-RAIL; roundtrip tickets between L.A. and San Diego cost $44; L.A. and Santa Barbara, $32.

--Michael Gutierrez

Beach Volleyball is a mainstay of Southern California life. Stroll the South Bay seaside on any given day and you’re sure to see swimsuited devotees pounding the ball back and forth over the net. A long-standing legend traces its start to Santa Monica in the early 1920s, when folks hopped the Red Line to the beach for six-on-six matches, sometimes playing for a friendly wager. In the late ‘40s, tournaments were frequently played where the top prize was a case of Pepsi. In 1978, Jose Cuervo Tequila got into the act and signed on as the sport’s first major sponsor, after which beach volleyball gradually expanded into a legitimate, big-money franchise.

Top players nowadays can earn up to $20,000 in a single tournament, with SoCal natives like Karch Kiraly, Sinjin Smith and Randy Stoklos racking up substantial bankrolls and regularly garnering attention from the media. For less talented mortals, beach volleyball is still a great pastime -- inexpensive, easy to learn and a great way to meet people. The anxious newcomer need not fear embarrassment; everyone treads upon that great equalizer -- sand. All players, from the best to the worst, have to trudge through the thick silt, and so what if you get bonked on the head once or twice, or take a fall or two. It‘s all part of the fun.

During the summer, beaches across sunny SoCal teem with V-ball. From Santa Monica and Pacific Palisades’ State Beach down to O.C.‘s Huntington, beachside courts are more crammed than the 405 during rush hour. For the novice, there’s no better place to cut your teeth while enjoying the best of salty, sea-town life than the 40-plus courts at Hermosa Beach. The local merchants are always congenial to visitors, and thirsty weekend warriors can souse themselves after an exhausting game, at places like the divey Mermaid (coined “the Merm” by locals) or la vida loca--esque Sangria. Restaurants are in abundance, and a nearby bike path begs for constant surveillance of all the bikinis that stroll by.

The first day I ventured forth into the world of beach volleyball, I stayed off the courts and asked questions. Luckily, beginners and vets alike were excited to share their knowledge and experience with a greenhorn.

Joe Dicochea, a Hermosa native and veteran player, lazed in a high-backed chair while sipping from his water bottle, waiting his turn on the court. “I come here for the sun, man,” he chuckled. “The sand, the girls and the sport, in no particular order. It‘s a great place to develop friends.”

Though he projected a laid-back attitude, when pressed about life on the volleyball courts he turned all business -- and as territorial as a lion. “It’s pretty much an unwritten rule that these two courts,” he said, pointing to an area just in front of his tired body, “are reserved for people who have been playing here for years.”