Huntington Beach Hyatt: Staycation Vacation

We’ve been spending more time in Southern California lately, and after a year of far-flung travels (that aren’t yet done), the proximity to home suits us just fine.

Take Orange County’s Huntington Beach, for example:  For those weary of L.A., with an hour’s drive you can kick back at the Hyatt and immerse yourself in a laid-back, endless summer.  It’s the perfect compromise between vacation and staycation.

Two weekends ago, we were invited to stay at the Hyatt Regency Huntington Beach, and replied with a simple, “Why yes, please.”  Chilling out poolside, a one-minute walk from the Pacific, seemed like a calm way to reconnect with each other and the outdoors after a week of caffeine and computer screen glow.

And we were right.

Huntington Beach itself is lovely, wide and clean with soft sand, lots of seabirds and a gajillion surfers a year.  Now celebrating its centennial, HB has been known since the 1960s as Surf City USA ™.  Morning is prime-time for waves, you can soak up some sun almost every day, and at night, you can cuddle fireside around city-sanctioned fire rings.  Pier Plaza runs out to the water straight from Main Street, where you can grab a meal, a latte, gelato or rent a bike.  We took a small wander through town and found it old-fashioned, laid-back and friendly…but were eager to get to the resort.

The Hyatt has elegance to spare — gleaming tiles in the lobby, glamorous fountain courtyards and grounds like a botanical garden — but the details aren’t so precious that you can’t just make yourself at home.  Before we’d even reached our suite, we passed a cozy outdoor nook that contained a fireside living room; gotta be honest, I’m bummed we’re not sitting there right now.

Not that we avoided sitting during our stay.  It took us about 10 minutes to drop our bags, suit up, and head to the Spa Grottos.  Three large whirlpools, two lounge chairs in the sun and an hour to kill before heading to the spa itself?  Done.  We had a whole pool to ourselves, and (despite being surrounded by a horseshoe-shaped, four-floor rise of rooms) absolute quiet.

At one point, Adam lifted his head to peer over the horizon line at the beach, just to make sure it was still there.  Yup…aaannd back to lying down.

The Pacific Waters Spa is a big draw here for both guests and non-guests.  (In the dressing room, I met a local mother and daughter who have been here six times…this year alone.)  The design scheme transitions from warm reds and dark woods to pale glass, cool blues and lush greens; it feels like a mini-trip through all the styles and colors we associate with California.

Our favorite spa features were an even split between our muscle-melting couples massage and (in keeping with our weekend’s theme) the coed lounging patio, fringed with palms and stocked with magazines designed to stoke our lust for architecture and celebrity gossip.  A close third would be the womb-like hallway that leads to the treatment rooms.  The huge, slippery steam room could use some handlebars (I narrowly avoided a face plant…but that could just be my natural grace), and both of us felt our respective saunas lacked heat, but we both soothed these minor disappointments with tasty mixed nuts and refreshing green tea.

We tore ourselves out of the spa with only minutes to spare before our dinner at the Hyatt HB’s signature restaurant, The Californian.  It was just warm enough for an outdoor seat next to a blazing firepit and an arcing fountain display worthy of the Alhambra.  I don’t know if it’s just me, but my husband always looks even better to me by firelight.

When staying at a big hotel, we’d normally be tempted to head off the reservation in search of local fare, but we’re both relieved we didn’t miss out on the gorgeous menu here.

We started with two separate flights of red wines, picked from the by-the-glass list; if each of you gets a different $15 flight, it’s a thrifty way to try six wines at a stroke.

For food, we wandered only slightly off the appetizers map, over to the Maryland crab cakes; these light, all-crab delights could go toe-to-peeky-toe with the Chesapeake cakes of my youth.  The Mediterranean salad had a beautiful herb dressing, and standouts on the artisan cheese plate were the Cypress Grove Bermuda Triangle and orange-fig marmalade.

We also indulged in, wait for it…truffled parmesan fries.  These answer “yes” to the age-old question:  “Can something be right and wrong at the same time?”

After 10 quiet hours of sleep in our Regency Club One King Room, followed by a breakfast of bright, sweet berries and endless lox over the Orange County Register at said Regency Club (essentially, Hyatt’s version of a private-access, first class airline lounge), we decided to at last stroll the property.

Several friends who’d been heret expressed surprise that the resort isn’t right on the beach, but instead across the street; a short bridge takes you safely across and deposits you by the beach parking lot.  But back home in L.A., we’re a half-hour’s drive from the ocean…so crossing a bridge to the sand is major progress.  And, because the resort’s situated up on a cliff, about 75% of the real estate here has a view of the beach.

The other 25% offers either gorgeous landscaping or an opportunity to shop.  Straight in from the beach bridge, there’s a fair-sized marketplace area with coffee, general store, bike/surf shop, gallery, arcade, casual grill, and more.  (In case you’re not a fan of Starbucks, which they offer here, take a healthy walk over to Main Street to Mangiamo for Lavazza, instead.)

It didn’t take us long to find that this would be the ideal place for parents (and extended families), to have a Southern California weekend away.  One of the two guest-only pool areas is especially kid-friendly, with wading areas, a poolside grill, cabanas with flat-screen TVs, and several water slides.  Turns out there’s also a kids’ Camp Hyatt Beach Club which promises to amuse potty-trained youngsters for hours on end while their parents read/spa-ify/walk the beach/sleep/space out elsewhere.

As a purely couples’ weekend, though, imagine the above — just without children.

Our verdict?  If you arrive stressed, you’ll leave relaxed and happy…and be back in L.A. (or San Diego) in time for Mad Men.