Ah yea! Mason is headed there. Actually, I was there but 4 years ago (briefly - flying along on I 5).
Oceanside California! Home of the 1st Marine Division in Camp Pendleton! What a town (not much anymore as it is typical SoCal!). But a place I spent more than a few years of my youth, and where I learned to surf.
Ever see "The Summer of 42"? Ok, not that great (but only by a gnats whisker!). But it was Summer all year round. I was early teens, and learned to surf (this being the late 60s early 70s - no, I was not at Woodstock). Learned? Yep! In January! Why not! The temps were in the 70s, and the water was always cold! (wear a wet suit or only spend a few minutes in it!). I learned how to get the Annettes that year. I was hot poop on a cold plate, but I loved it.
As did we all. All my friends. We were there during winter break, spring break, summer and fall. I was not old enough to be on my own, really (I would not have let my children walk a mile to the beach, but this was the late 60s and early 70s and the age of innocence). But we were. All of us. And no one bothered us, and we bothered no one.
Not the brainiacs of school, because we were being Beach bums! But smart enough that while we may have missed the honor roll a time or 2, we were on it more times than not. And so our parents did not worry. indeed, looking back, I would not have worried about me either. We were not suicidal, just normal boys. Sure we did some stupid stuff, but none that was intentionally fatal (like the suffocating crap going around today).
It was not like Blue Lagoon, but in a way it was. We worked to make some money, and then bought some smoked albacore, and surfed. And we went to school and got decent (I wont say good) grades.
Ah, Oceanside! We all have special endearing memories of our youth. And I am no different. And I know there are some snakes in my eden, but 30 years later, I dont remember them. I just remember my eden. Perhaps because that is the way it is supposed to be with our cherished memories.
We were recently tagged to remember embarrasing moments in our youth, and truth be told, I had to think long and hard on my 5. Why? because I remember the good times more vividly and dwell on them. And have forgotten most of the bad ones (Like one I just remembered when I was 6 - and a portugese Man of War got me, and my mother and uncle dragging me through the sand to scrape it off. And despite the stinging, the only thing that stuck with me was the stupid sand in my mouth! 
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I wish to acknowledge MasonM for dredging up these memories. Ones that I do dwell upon, and vividly recall when a catalyst brings them up! The great ones never leave us, but adult hood often crowds them out. I am glad they do not erase them so that we can remember at times.