Scuttlebutt: Mental Health Vacation
By Mitch McFarland
Madeline and I just went on a mental health vacation. We didn't have anywhere in particular to go, but we just had to break our routine and do something different. My criteria for choosing a destination was that it should be in California, not be crowded, expensive or involve an airport and take us somewhere that we have never been. I eventually chose Paradise, California. You likely recall the Camp Fire of 2018 that leveled the town. 95% of buildings were destroyed and dozens of people lost their lives. The town had over 24,000 residents, but now is down to just over 4000. Madeline called us disaster tourists. I figured they could use our money.
I did some research and found that Paradise has instigated a tremendous effort to rebuild. Signs all over town show support for the work of rebuilding. People are even getting tattoos that say “Paradise” to show their indelible support.
One of the factors in choosing Paradise for our trip was that it could take us along routes we have never taken . Route 162 looked intriguing. It leaves 101 at Longvale (north of Willits) and goes through Covelo, then winds through the Mendocino National Forest to Willows on I-5. I've been in Mendocino County for almost 50 years and I have never been to Covelo.
I could see on Google maps that the highway designation 162 ends after leaving Covelo and is simply called Mendocino Pass Road. Before getting to Willows, it resumes the 162 title. Along the journey the road crests at 7700 feet, so I thought there would be a chance that it was closed. Instead of calling Caltrans to find out (I later learned that wouldn't have helped) we just took off and figured we would ask in Covelo. We asked at the Reservation office and their health center as well as with several people and no one could say for sure what the situation was “up top”. We took off anyway and eventually reached what seemed like the end of the line. There was a mini store/bar run by an older hippie type named Tom and even he didn't know about the road since he too had never taken it. He advised against it and we turned around and went all the way back to Hwy 20 at Redwood Valley—a 3-hour detour.
Upon heading home from Paradise we stopped in Willows to learn more about the road over the mountains. We checked with CHP, the U.S. Forest Service, Glenn County maintenance, and Caltrans and no one could tell us a thing. It seems that no agency wants to be responsible for that road. The CHP told us why—it is 43 miles of very steep washboard dirt road. The officer said it would take over 3 hours to drive it. That settled it.
Paradise itself was interesting. Four years has brought back some bushy type plants, but there are no big trees except Sequoias. Most of them have all their lower branches burnt off as well as blackened trunks , but the upper parts are growing. The trees have survived the fire. There are many new buildings, but not nearly as many as the empty slabs and fountains that cover the town.
One thing that intrigued me about the town starting from scratch is that they now have the ability to re-invent their town however they see fit. Power and communication lines are all being buried, a new sewer system and treatment plant has gone in and they are planning a green belt around the town for recreation, wildlife enhancement, and to do controlled burns to protect the town from future disasters.
Another aspect of Paradise that I was curious about is what it would be like out of my political bubble here on the coast. Butte County is very conservative politically. Doug LaMalfa is their congressperson and he is a full-on God, guts and guns Trumper. He voted against the Violence Against Women Act because it would deny guns to people found guilty of domestic abuse.
My happy discovery was that everyone was really nice. Of course, Madeline and I are an old white couple so suspicion of us was not a big factor, but that doesn't tell the whole story. It really is about labels. We constantly label each other as to what we think people are, often before actually learning anything about them. If I had been wearing my “Feel the Bern” t-shirt things may have been different. I would be labelling myself as someone who has all the values that conservatives dislike and have attached to liberals. Just as if I was in San Francisco with a MAGA hat, someone might likely knock it off my head (and perhaps my head with it).
Our dog Scout goes everywhere with me—often on my shoulders. This constantly gets me in conversations with people about their pets. I'm sure I would have a very pleasant conversation with someone who attended the January 6 riot as long as we were talking about our pets. Or our children. Or the weather. Or just about anything but politics.
Another example. On the way home we stopped in Williams at Granzellas, the well-known stop on I-5. It was very crowded as usual and as I waited for our order to be made I stepped back away from the busy, moving crowd. I ended up next to an older gentleman who had been in front of me in the line. It looked like he easily could have been a retired rice farmer and lifelong Republican. He was stocky, wore a full brim felt hat and bib overalls. As the crowd rushed by us we both moved back a bit and I said something like, “ I guess we better get out of the way”. He smiled and agreed before asking me if I had run the Bay to Breakers because my T-shirt looked like one his son got for doing that race. This began a long conversation about our knees, which are all well-worn. When my name was called to pick up my order we parted ways with a friendly smile and wished each other good luck. I'm sure if instead of mentioning my bad knees I brought up abortion, or LGBTQ issues, or any of the other social issues that the media can't stop reporting on, we would have had a much different conversation, if one at all.
So, surprise! People don't hate each other as much as we are led to believe. We hate the labels that we are so quick to identify in others.
As a wise philosopher once said, “Can't we all just get along?"
