Laguna Beach is Orange County's cultural melting pot. Old money mingles with the nouveau riche. Gays and lesbians are influential in civic life. There are artists, celebrities, tree huggers and one-time followers of hippie icon Timothy Leary.
They have little in common, except this: Come rain, mud, wildfires, landslides -- and in Laguna they all come, regularly -- few would live anywhere else.
"It's just a friendly village," said Steve Hopkins, 61, a real estate developer who lives in the hills overlooking Emerald Bay. "Saturday mornings, you go downtown and see people you know -- and some people you probably don't want to know. There are authors and there are degenerates. It's an eclectic bunch."
In October 1993, when a massive fire swept through Laguna Beach destroying more than 400 homes, the flames burned nearly to Hopkins' front door.
"I never thought about moving anywhere else," he said.
No wonder. Laguna Beach is the heart of the California Riviera with steep hills that soar out of the sea. Craftsman bungalows and beach cottages mix with gated mansions and boxy contemporary homes on lots surrounded by eucalyptus trees, chaparral and coastal sage scrub.
The town is known for its rocky coves and pocket beaches, rugged headlands and surf spots that ignite when solid swells come out of the south. People also move here for the isolation. With only two ways in and out -- Laguna Canyon Road and Pacific Coast Highway -- Laguna Beach is an island attached to a metropolis.
Above all, the atmosphere in Laguna is laid back: Despite all the money here, swimsuits and shorts are the great equalizers.
Artists discovered the place starting in the early 1900s, drawn by the picturesque landscape and quality of light. Hippies moved in during the 1960s. Gays followed them in the 1970s. Since then, the city has attracted more wealthy residents intent on capturing the California Dream.
Each new batch of residents fell in love with Laguna's beauty -- and learned to respect its predisposition for natural disaster. In many ways, the potential for havoc has worked to bring these diverse groups together.
"It was the one and only place I wanted to live," said Bill LaPointe, 65, owner of the Orange County and Long Beach Blade, a newspaper aimed at gays. "It was one of the most picturesque places I'd ever seen."
LaPointe moved to Laguna in 1971 after graduating from USC. Since then, he has dodged several floods and fires. On his 40th birthday, a hillside slid into his swimming pool and office.
