Stinson & Environs (Part III)

Slide Ranch1

From the overlook, the road stretches north along a ridge flanked on either side by steep slopes. To the east, the terrain slants sharply away to Frank Valley far below only to steadily rise again to the majestic loom of Mount Tamalpais; its three peaks stand at approximately 2,500 feet – far and away the highest points in Marin County – and tower over the area hills. On the ocean side, the landscape plunges even more precipitously to a shore strewn with a multitude of monoliths. 2

On this site, one can sweepingly survey some of the most strikingly dramatic coastline imaginable; a photographer’s paradise of gigantic boulders shorn from the motherland by the formidable forces of wind, rain and sea – as well as the occasional earthquake. These colossal, randomly configured rock formations cram a coast that incessant waves ceaselessly batter and recurring tides relentlessly scour.3

Located on this celebrated coast is a working ranch (aptly dubbed Slide Ranch), which is a non-profit agricultural and environmental educational center that provides an assortment of programs: Group Programs – weekday workshops and overnight campouts for school classes and community groups; Summer Day Camp – a week-long camp for kids; Family Programs – weekend day and overnight camp; as well as special events (e.g., Spring Fling and Harvest Celebration) and a Teacher-in-Residence Program; all devoted to heightening its program participants’ appreciation of agriculture, its processes and products.4

The ranch itself consists of a muddle of small structures and trailers, some posted as private residences, where the ranch staff, teachers and their families dwell. Even some very small trailers, which look as if it would be difficult for a single person to stand erect inside, let alone inhabit them comfortably, have this designation. A large low group-meeting house called a yurt, with a broad conical-shaped fabric covered roof, sits perched above the stunning coastline. Rounding out the ranch structures are some recently constructed bunkhouses where presumably the youth groups bed down. 5

A dirt road leads down from the two-lane highway that runs along the ridge high above and opens onto some small gardens, a goat corral and the aforementioned buildings. At first glimpse, the people working about the grounds give the impression of a circa 1960s commune, as does the seemingly random layout. Despite the hodgepodge appearance of the place, the people here seem to have attained some degree of utopian symmetry. This small, committed group has carved out a bucolic yet sustainable existence on this picturesque coast where cheerful women in large straw hats tend vegetable gardens as knots of children play about the grounds; while concomitantly, the valuable programs offered, and the hard work required to bring them to fruition, give back to society in more than generous measure.6

Branching out from the ranch, a number of trails proceed south at various levels up and down the incline: from down along the rocky coast, on up to the top of the slope – where the trail parallels the roadway high above – and at several levels in between. Tents and geodesic domes dot the outlying grounds alongside these pathways; one dome in particular, positioned atop a relatively broad, flat space along one of these footpaths (Owl Trail), sits a hundred feet or more above the striking coastline and commands a spectacular, breathtaking view. Owl Trail, for its part, gradually ascends the grade, diagonally intersecting trails along the way, until it eventually converges with a path that leads back to Muir Beach Overlook.7

Rocky Point8

Farther along up the coast, Shoreline Highway hugs a particularly precipitous stretch of coastline. Here the roadway has been blasted out of the near sheer hillside, banked on the one side by a pitched plunge to the rock strewn coastline far below and by a sharply ascendant chaparral covered incline on the other. Along this wending roadway, just before reaching the outskirts of Stinson Beach, a relatively level area down by the sea comes into view. Around a sharp turn, a blind turn-off leads to a tightly winding, steeply descending off-road, that provides the only vehicle access to the site.9

Rocky Point – an appropriate appellation – features a modest group of cabins perched just above a small rocky beach. In addition, there are a limited number of campsites farther out on the point. As would be expected, the cabins are particularly popular during the summer season, prompting many to make reservations weeks, if not months, in advance. However, in the off-season after Labor Day, there are frequently cabins available on a first come basis. During this slow season, there are never, as a rule, so many reservations as to create any difficulty in securing lodging. This proves to be advantageous for those who are knowledgeable, those who are timely or those who are simply lucky. 10

For it is during the months of September – in particular the latter half of September – and October that the finest weather of the year blesses the coast of Northern California. Gone is the deep marine layer along with its attendant beach-enshrouding fog; early autumn boasts clear skies and warm days freshened by welcome breezes. At night, cooler temperatures combine with the soothing sounds of the surf to lull visitors into the deepest of sleeps; whence these lucky souls arise to find themselves rested, rejuvenated and blissfully ensconced on this wondrous coast.11

Red Rocks12

Red Rocks is a small, secluded beach that sits just beyond Rocky Point. There are no signs marking its location, although a large gravel parking lot high above the sands hints at its popularity; for, Red Rocks is a clothing optional site. The local authorities do not advertise this fact – or condone it for that matter – but since the steep, curving coastline tightly embraces the tiny beach, effectively shielding it from public view, tolerance rules the day.13

Purportedly a thermal duct spouts just offshore of the small beach at Red Rocks. When the tide is particularly low, swimmers can take advantage of the hot spring that bubbles up out of the ocean floor and blends with the cool seawater. Because of this confluence, those who partake of this natural hot tub may move closer to or farther away from the fissure until they pinpoint the desired water temperature.14

Stinson Beach15

Continuing along as the road twists and turns its way north, a long curve of broad, white-sand beach comes into view, extending for several miles. This immense arc describes a bay of great length and proportionate breadth; its shoreline suggests a sparkling scimitar of sand and surf separating the deep blue-green of the sea from the muted earth tones of the lofty coastal hills. Stinson Beach, the southern portion of this vast crescent, sweeps away north to Brighton Beach in Bolinas and ultimately terminates at the distant promontory of Duxbury Point. As the road descends the switchback into this day-tripper subsidized beach town, the differences between Stinson and Muir Beach are apparent at once; but there are also more subtle distinctions. 16

A mishmash of buildings, residential and commercial, lines the main road just back of the beach and partially ascends the hills above, presenting a vivid illustration of the physical distinction between the two towns. The land above the town was and continues to be part of the state and federal park systems. Because of space restrictions resulting from this propinquity to public property, these structures have been constructed cheek to jowl in a jumble that starts at the foot of these hills and continues partway up the slopes; from below, the houses seem to sit directly atop one another. Down on the main street, commercialism abounds, seemingly without restriction. Curio shops and art galleries stand shoulder to shoulder with bar-and-grills, bed-and-breakfasts, surf and bike shops, as well as a general store; all sharing but a few blocks.17

Yet, beyond the visible dissimilarities that differentiate Muir Beach from Stinson Beach, a deep-seated divergence of ethos exists as well. For, Stinson is an authentic beach town that abides by a loose, laid-back, live-and-let-live philosophy. Moreover, an entrenched surf culture imbues Stinson with an inclusive tolerance for any and all. In the town of Stinson Beach – with the exception of a private gated beachfront community – there is little of the reclusive exclusivity found in Muir Beach. (In defense of the denizens of Muir Beach, their community has none of the overt snobbishness found, for example, in the privileged Pacific Heights and Nob Hill neighborhoods of San Francisco. Muir Beach residents have achieved a presumably well-earned – and apparently well-adjusted – sense of security and comfort in their cloistered community.)18

As mentioned, the sands at Stinson are ample in both breadth and length, so they are ideal for use as a launch site for various water sports. Surfboards, both the familiar variety and those outfitted with parachute surfing rigs, jam the hottest breaker ridgeline but, despite their number, they are in no danger of overrunning the beach; there is plenty of room for all. On particularly blistering days, a horde of vehicles packs the large main parking lot; sun-lovers, young and old, liberally pepper the warm sand, especially near the center of town. Yet, still there is room. This main section of Stinson Beach extends about a mile or so, from before the rocks at its south end to just past the town center. From there, the sands extend northward about three more miles.19

The previously mentioned gated community sits just off the beach and asserts partial control of this northern stretch of shore. Prominently displayed signs list the activities permitted – or rather, not permitted – along these sands: no barbecuing; no passing within sixty feet of the stone seawall that fronts the houses; and other such inanities usually associated with more class conscious people. Despite this apparent boorishness, the one thing they expressly allow – out of the goodness of their hearts one can only suppose – is strolling along their precious shoreline. At the end of this long spit of land, the mouth of a large lagoon yawns; for Seadrift, as this privileged community is known, resembles nothing as much as a major sand bar encircling its own private lagoon and separating the Pacific Ocean from Bolinas Lagoon. 20

Most of the major beaches on Marin County’s coast lie at the mouths of large valleys surrounded by high hills, where the geography allows for significant drainage to the sea. Over the eons, lagoon-coastal zones formed that exhibit a specific two season ecosystem: throughout the dry season (May through October) the lagoon lies landlocked and bustling with birds – land, shore and sea; with the onset of the rainy season (November through April), the sea breaches the beach: at high tide replenishing the lagoon with sea water that contains much needed nutrients; at low tide draining off the by-product of months of stagnancy. Stinson Beach and Brighton Beach in Bolinas are no different than these except in scale, which results in an atypical seasonal configuration. 21

Bolinas Lagoon stretches far back from the beach. This is due, in part, to the ridge that extends north behind the high bluff, which runs the length of Brighton Beach. Over time, seismic activity along the San Andreas Fault slashed a deep gorge through this ridge. This transformation of topography gave rise to a bottleneck that enabled substantial drainage out of Tomales Bay to the north and eventually formed a wide expanse of wetlands: present day Bolinas Lagoon.22

The turbulent mouth of the lagoon is relatively narrow (in fact the towns of Bolinas and Stinson Beach hold an annual Fourth of July tug-of-war across this strait) and the expanse of the lagoon itself relatively broad. The large body of water forcing its way through the narrow channel thwarts any attempt by nature to cut off the lagoon from the sea during the dry season. Consequently, the breach never closes, which leaves the span of Stinson and Brighton Beaches forever cleaved in two. On the other side of the mouth of the lagoon sits a world so different from that which exists only meters away it is difficult to reconcile how simple geography suffers the distinction.23

© Stephen Alexander 200824