Hey all,
California has almost 40 million people living in its sunshine and its fog, both of which are abundant. If you come here, you might decide to stay. Your decision might be rational or it might just be a feeling that you very much need to get old among the weirdos, the kelp forests, the redwoods. California! Will you take me as I am?
We’re here on vacation, in a shingle-roofed cottage about four hours north of the Bay Area that belongs to the family of a math professor and an English professor who specialized in feminist critiques of Shakespeare. There are two pots and one pan. The library is full of field guides, 70’s editions of a random range of fiction, books about California, and a book called Poetry of the Universe: A Mathematical Exploration of the Cosmos. The math professor wrote it in 1995.
Photo of Mackerricher State Park in Fort Bragg by Derick Daily on Unsplash
In between surfing lessons, meandering hikes through woods and dunes, some power thrifting, and lots of good fish, I’ve been wondering about the people who claim California. Political organizers (I’ve met a bunch on this trip and they are getting shit done, it’s remarkable), hippies, queers, intellectuals, survivalists, loggers (well not so much anymore), dreamers, cowboys, farmers, tech bros - is California for everyone or do you need to regularly drink a cocktail of stubbornness and idealism to make it here?
Because as magical as it is, this state is wicked, too. Smoke season! Drought! An ever-present threat of earthquake and tsunami! Signs on the beach to never turn your back on the ocean or risk certain death! Whenever I visit, I always get the sense that nature is just waiting for its moment to take over again.
Although this region’s Pomo Indians managed to live along the Mendocino Coast for over 2,000 years, businessmen of the 19th and early 20th century only lasted for 90 years or so, after they logged the redwoods and found the coastline too rocky to navigate with ease, the water too shallow for a proper harbor. Some decamped north to Fort Bragg, where we’ve been staying, others returned to the Bay Area.
Today, the tiny town of Mendocino has 1,000 permanent residents and 2,000 transient ones - the tourists who come to walk the bluffs along the stunning, undeveloped coastline, drink the local wine, and take showers and flush the toilet a lot.
Without tourists, Mendocino’s museum-ness (think old West meets tinier Nantucket) would cease to exist. But tourists are also putting a ton of pressure on the water supply, which is running low - Mendocino might have to buy water from nearby towns and truck it in, if those municipalities can spare it. Without water, Mendocino might also cease to exist.
I’m actually not sure what I’m trying to say here, which is unfortunate because our vacation is about to end and I need to pack my suitcase and clean out the refrigerator. I guess I wonder if all of the people, with all of their California dreams, will actually love the place to death. In the meantime, people who hold a candle for the place will keep coming back. And I’m one of them.
XO
Leigh
*My new-ish tradition of reading Patricia Highsmith novels on vacation gifted me this perfect line, part of a rant from the main character in Edith’s Diary.