5000 Days and Occam's Razor
By David Steffen
Almost all of my moves—to places I’ve lived—were unplanned (or at least unexpected), and those “adventures” were usually about work. Among those changes of geography were from Milwaukee to Chicago, then to Los Angeles, on to New York, and from there to St. Paul. In total, we relocated five times, totaling some 8000 miles in career moves, yet the biggest surprise was the last 2000 miles: coming back to California from St. Paul about 15 years ago. Although clearly a conscious decision, moving back to California in 2006 was nevertheless unexpected. But the seeds for that move had been planted decades earlier.
My introduction to California was in 1972, when I was flown to Los Angeles as a sort-of ‘meet and greet’, before I began working for A&M Records as their rep in Chicago. Five years later I was transferred to Los Angeles. In short order we bought a small house in the L. A. suburb of Newhall (known today as Santa Clarita).
Many of my Hollywood-based co-workers at A&M had never heard of Newhall. That’s not surprising since Newhall was actually 25 miles north of Hollywood and, more to the point, it was a million miles from many of my co-worker’s homes in Beverly Hills, Woodland Hills, Tarzana and Brentwood. For example, Newhall’s best-known Hollywood star was William S. Hart, and by the time we moved there, Hart had already been dead for 30 years. But it wasn’t famous people that drove us to discover Newhall; the truth is, it was an area where housing was the most affordable, particularly in the red hot real estate market in 1977. We stayed in the area for 13 years and while there, explored other parts of the Golden State.
Our first visit to the Mendocino Coast was in December 1980. While working in Hollywood, I was talking with my friend Bob Garcia, and told him we were thinking of visiting Mendocino County during the holidays. "If you want to simplify your trip" Bob said, “you should rent a house at The Sea Ranch”. I had no idea what a Sea Ranch was, but trusting Bob we contacted a rental agent, secured a place to stay, loaded up the car with our luggage and the dogs—Irish Setter and English Setter—and headed north. Late that evening we found our way to a rented house at The Sea Ranch. Some of our days were hours of quiet relaxation, while other days were about local exploration.
On one of those “other” days we drove about an hour north to Mendocino. That day-trip solidified my previously imaginary thoughts about Mendocino. Although the ‘70s had passed into the ‘80s, young men and women were still found making a living selling leather goods, beads, homemade crafts and tie-dyed fashions from their VW microbuses along Lansing Street and Main Street in the Village. For these youthful entrepreneurs, the ‘60s (and the perceptions of them as hippies) were alive and well.
More germane was the continued beauty of the California coast. Driving north one could look left and see the ocean, beaches, bays and coves; look right and there were tree-covered hills and rivers, and grazing land for cows, sheep, goats, horses, plus birds, lighthouses and a display of hundreds of bowling balls (you gotta see them to understand). And along the way there were the many beautifully maintained houses, banks, commercial storefronts, and not surprisingly, a few seemingly abandoned structures. Mendocino County had elements of life I had seen and experienced in my travels, but rarely did I find them all in the same general area.
Some 25 years later we took another trip to the Mendocino Coast, renting a house in Irish Beach with a renewed desire to enjoy and explore the coast. During our visit we drove from Jenner (on the south) to Trinidad (3+ hours further north). We quickly saw that a move to the Mendocino coast might be a good idea. I think it was a surprise to both of us that before we left town we bought a house in Gualala and planned our move west. Happily we’ve been here for more than 15 years.
A favorite television program of mine in the 1980s was CBS’s “Sunday Morning,” hosted by the late Charles Kuralt. One of those early ‘80s Sundays Kuralt introduced author, humorist and folklorist Roger Welsch, a midwest farmer, who became an occasional correspondent for “Sunday Morning”. Welsch’s video essays were titled "Postcards from Nebraska”. By that time he had been a working midwest farmer for more than 20 years. One morning while the CBS television crew was filming Welsch in the local diner, a steady stream of other farmers and friends were coming in for breakfast. Seeing Welsch in front of the cameras one of his friends remarked, “Hey look, the tourists are in town”. After more than 20 years of farming, Welsch was still the subject of good-natured barbs about whether or not he had achieved the status of being ‘local’.
While having a latte at Trinks, or getting a sandwich at the Arena Co-op, picking out fresh veggies at the Gualala Saturday Farmers Market, or stopping at Two Fish, that TV-moment often comes back to me when new visitors and new residents ask me if I’m a local. I usually respond by telling them something like “we have a house up on the ridge.” “Local” is a label that requires thought and as I learned from Welsch, just be patient and let others apply the label when you've made it. Obviously the people we've met and the friends we've made are also part of our life on the coast
But I’ve come to learn a few more things about the Mendocino Coast. Our home is about a mile and a half from the actual shoreline of the Pacific Ocean. We do live on a ridge almost 1000 feet above sea level which gives us a blue-water view. And that view is never lost on me.
The summer day we first looked at this house I knew it was well designed, well constructed and without obvious warts. (With all homes you find the warts later.) Standing on the deck I got my first whiff of the wisteria growing and climbing along the deck. The aroma was delightful. For a second I wondered if the owners had a spray bottle somewhere misting me with the wisteria’s fragrance (hoping to get us to buy the house.) Wisteria, a member of the pea family, has hanging clusters of pale bluish-lilac flowers. Most importantly, it blooms twice each year. No spray bottle needed.
Our property also has a sufficient number of redwoods and firs. If you don’t already know, redwoods are spectacular. The one pictured here stands about 15 feet from our house. Its circumference is easily 25 - 30 feet. These aren’t "just trees". Redwoods happen to be the tallest known trees and are among the largest living organisms on the planet. We’re told they can grow to a height of 325 feet. I believe it. The one in our ”yard” is likely 100-125 feet tall and may have started growing a century ago (sort of like me). One of these days I’ve got to get someone who know’s about redwoods to tell me exactly how tall it is. (NOTE: I'm the guy next to the tree.)
We have plenty of birds, although I sometimes worry that their numbers are shrinking. The jays, woodpeckers, finches, families of quail, along with hummingbirds, hawks, buzzards and others are wonders. There are also quite a few forest pigeons. Believe me, having worked in New York City, I can tell you about pigeons. But these local band-tailed pigeons are clearly natures attempt to give pigeons a better rep. There’s a family of foxes that live about 50 feet down the hill from our home. They occasionally saunter through our property and have even been seen taking an afternoon nap near our driveway. Wildlife is not a problem on the Mendocino Coast and yet I wonder how that wildlife will fair as the climate continues to change, evolve.
There are so many moments. We’re immediately aware of some, and others drift into our consciousness at their leisure. It's a bit more like Occam’s Razor; I’m more likely to embrace the idea that it was a benevolent chain of events that brought us here. Bob’s suggestion of where to stay helped, but maybe it is the Pacific Ocean, the fragrant wisteria, those gigantic trees, the rocky coastline and the local wildlife that combine to explain our presence here. Fifteen years on I’m grateful for William of Occam. It appears the razor still works.
