Do birthdays matter? Not really. But they are, at the very least, an excuse to do something you might not usually do as a middle-aged father of two. On this most recent occasion, a birthday served as the primary rationale to drag an assortment of friendship flotsam across the Los Angeles coastline, working our way down through a selection of Southern California beach dive bars. This expedition also marked the second time an assignment for food and drink publications Eater and Punch was used to rationalize, or perhaps subsidize, a birthday bar crawl. These old, salt-crusted pubs represent an essential, last-remaining stronghold of regional culture, demanding both community respect and financial patronage to survive in a rapidly shifting economic landscape.

The crawl took place on a Saturday in September, filling the afternoon and evening with drinks and snacks—though predominantly bites of iconic bar burgers—while working a route from Santa Monica down to Manhattan Beach before wandering inland for dinner in Torrance, home to some of the finest Japanese cuisine in the United States.

The plan was deliberately structured to start relatively early, allowing the group to soak in as much sunlit ocean breeze as possible while ensuring a normal amount of sleep at the end of the night before waking up at traditional dad hours. A well-executed bar crawl offers the distinct advantage of allowing participants to jump on and off as their schedules and stamina permit. Prefacing the outing with a brisk itinerary, moving quickly from place to place without worrying over who shows up when and where, keeps the momentum alive. The simple rule for attendance is directing friends to add necessary estimated times of arrival to the group chat as applicable.

Stop 1: Chez Jay — Santa Monica — 3:25 p.m.

Opened in 1959, and situated roughly an eight-minute walk from the beach, Chez Jay has remained a steadfast staple and a refuge in a city that has been rapidly pricing out old neighborhood bars and restaurants. It is a place to enjoy a martini or a beer under a pair of unwritten local laws: take no pictures, and throw your peanut shells directly on the floor. While one of these rules was inevitably broken, the kitchen was not yet open upon arrival, though the peanuts were plentiful and the pours were wonderfully heavy. The interior features red booths and red checkerboard tablecloths that evoke an old Italian restaurant, though the establishment functions more fundamentally as a classic steak-and-seafood destination for dinner. The crawl started strong here, drawing an initial group of six people, including the author’s father and stepmom.

Stop 2: Hinano Cafe — Venice Beach — 4:38 p.m.

Hinano Cafe has been operating on a bustling, heavily trafficked stretch of Venice Beach since 1962. This perpetually packed venue has established itself as an iconic surfer hangout serving beer and burgers—operating without a full liquor license—and, true to its surfing roots, serving breakfast from 8 a.m. until noon. The group swelled in size with more friends arriving at this second location, where pitchers of beer were poured in a standing-room-only setting alongside board-short-wearing day drinkers who were far too young and attractive for a gaggle of graying dads to linger longer than it took to order and split a hamburger. Priced at $12.50, the perfectly acceptable bar burger served on a sesame seed bun acted as a pleasant enough edible intermezzo, leaving the impression that a return visit might be better suited to another era, perhaps 1975.

Stop 3: Prince O’ Whales — Playa del Rey — 5:30 p.m.

Having crossed to the other side of the marina—acting somewhat as a traffic dividing line in Los Angeles County—the group settled into a compact cluster of three bars situated along a mere 0.2-mile stretch in this hidden, working-class Los Angeles beach community. The sun was beginning its descent, and the cooling ocean breeze helped relax tired shoulders, though the effect may have been equally attributable to the afternoon’s cumulative drinks.

The group sauntered into Prince O’ Whales, which has been serving drinks under its current name for over five decades, following an 18-year tenure under a different moniker, “The Bowsprit.” The venue features two indoor bars, though one remained closed for the afternoon. The bartender possessed the precise brand of amiable grumpiness one looks for in a sailor’s saloon, and the room was packed with patrons loudly following college football games, a sharp reminder of advancing age. Seeking a quieter atmosphere, the group carried their drinks to the back patio, a serene patch of cement, brick, faded paint, and sun-withered wood complete with a ping-pong table, all illuminated by the crisp late-summer weather that defines Southern California coastal living.

Stop 4: The Harbor Room — Playa del Rey — 6:01 p.m.

Following a brief 90-second walk, the group arrived at a venue widely known as “the smallest dive bar in Los Angeles.” The space feels akin to a California-themed yokocho alleyway in Tokyo, save for its deeply lived-in interior lined with old wood, evoking the sensation of drinking deep within the bowels of a turn-of-the-century vessel crossing the Atlantic. A friendly, intoxicated stranger soon joined the group to ask a barrage of questions.

A mix-up at the bar resulted in a gin and tonic arriving instead of a vodka-soda, prompting an immediate follow-up order for a gin martini. The drink arrived accompanied by an unorthodox “sidecar” consisting of a rocks glass holding a splash of rapidly warming gin. A curious wander into the adjoining Italian restaurant yielded warm encouragement from the staff, prompting an order for their favorite dish. Near the end of the martini, a foil container of steaming hot ravioli was delivered straight to the table. The nostalgic, timeless charm of the space evoked a humorous contemplation of renting one of the barstools to live out one’s twilight years in the event of unforeseen domestic upheaval.

Stop 5: The Shack — Playa del Rey — 6:27 p.m.

A review of smartphone photo timestamps highlighted the remarkable efficiency of consuming a round of martinis and a plate of hot ravioli in a mere 26 minutes. The crawl pressed onward with an even shorter walk to the next destination: The Shack, a classic old surf bar and restaurant. The interior appears almost set-decorated, bearing the ideal amount of authentic wear and tear.

Considerably more spacious than the previous stop, the group easily found room at the bar to order the signature Shack Burger and an allotment of wings for the table. The featured burger arrives crowned with a butterflied Louisiana hot link, functioning essentially as a juicier, snappier, and spicier alternative to bacon. Meanwhile, personal reflections on endurance centered on the surprising ability to comfortably consume five or six drinks—a capacity that rarely faces testing in everyday modern life.

Stop 6: Ercole’s — Manhattan Beach — 7:23 p.m.

Nearing its 100th year of operation, having opened its doors during Prohibition though not originally as a bar, Ercole’s could easily serve as the grand finale and flagship destination around which an entire crawl is constructed. Regarded widely among local circles as home to the finest dive bar burger in Los Angeles County, this proud, defiant establishment has successfully withstood the test of time and rapidly escalating real estate prices to remain an authentic neighborhood dive. It functions as a sacred escape from the affluence of the surrounding beach community.

The interior is constructed largely of wood and vintage beer signs, featuring a single queue for ordering drinks and another for the restroom. Patrons ranging from gray-haired residents in Hawaiian shirts to tattooed bikers share a mutual appreciation for the space. In the corner behind the bar sits a small grill positioned beneath a bright yellow sign proudly declaring “no fries.”

The cheeseburger is a masterclass in simple chargrilled perfection, utilizing meat sourced directly from the butcher shop next door and served in a basket alongside a bag of potato chips. Although the menu also lists a teriyaki chicken sandwich, its existence remains a local myth. Time constraints dictated a swift departure to ensure the evening’s dinner reservation was not missed by an excessive margin, limiting the group to just a couple of bites per burger.

Stop 7: Torihei — Torrance — 8:00 p.m.

Given the strategy of snacking rather than consuming full meals throughout the afternoon beach crawl, settling into a long table adorned with sake and beer at Torihei provided an unmatched culinary comfort. The menu highlight—a simmering slab of daikon radish served in rich dashi broth and blanketed in katsuobushi flakes of smoked, dried skipjack tuna—offered immediate warmth and satisfaction.

The classic standby izakaya specializes in yakitori, featuring grilled chicken skewers, along with oden simmered in broth. The group sipped beers, crunched on tender chicken cartilage, and sampled grilled chicken meatballs before bringing the evening to a close with bowls of soborodon, consisting of seasoned ground chicken over rice.

Arriving home, showered, and safely tucked into bed before 11:15 p.m., the birthday itinerary proved to be an unqualified success.