This treacherous stretch of coastline that for centuries was deftly navigated by the Chumash beckons the empaths the wannabes the billionaires the birders the hard-soled surfers and people for whom making music is an extreme sport.

The air feels clean, and prospects, like summer in California, do feel endless. Up here, when the white homies emit surly locals-only vibes, who gives a good goddamn? Because Malibu is a mood. Palm fronds spread fire, skimming the winds of a swiftly tilting climate. We’re uphill from Venice and Santa Monica’s crowded bike paths, mobile fruterías and fragile tents of the unhoused. This surf mesmerized Sandra Dee’s Gidget and framed the volleyball game in “She’s All That.” This is where on date night Travis and Kylie dip in a steakhouse tucked in back of the Country Mart. Hawks plunge for fat mackerel, and riptides drag fools far out and forever under waves that from the shore look like peace and possibility. Moons charm bloodstreams, and dolphins model fortitude. The world’s deepest ocean appears on your left, a vast and breathing GIF.

If you’re footloose and floating up Pacific Coast Highway, a blink beyond the emerald front lawn of Pepperdine University, you’ll sense a sharp rise above sea level. To hear more audio stories from publications like The New York Times, download Audm for iPhone or Android.

The best of sade full album