Overview

On the coastal field trip during the fourth week of Spring Quarter, while walking from site to site with my group members I was struck by the idea of place as a process: a living, breathing, driving force. All of the sites that our group visited were on the same stretch of coast, but often their boundaries were much more blurry in person than in the maps impressed upon us. This is also true of the combination of geological and cultural processes that shaped them over time, the same processes of which will continue to carve the coast. At the forefront of my mind were the complex interactions between people and “nature,” and what to call “nature” that is not removed from human activity. The things I brought with me and my own personal process were just as much a part of the site as the sand that had been brought ashore during winter, which was also only temporarily visiting in the grand timescale of the place.

Team Sparkly Fairiez consisted of Frances Gregory, Tyra Xaysombath, Jasmine Rachanna, and Gianna Uriarte.

 

 

“Big waves crash down to almost what looks like the height of me. Boundaries break down on the beach, just like my sense of self. The water corrodes the cliff side and pummels the rocks, taking many pieces out to sea. And I forget that I am a student, a sibling, a worker, a renter, a writer for a moment while I watch the water, the way the sun changes its perceived texture and color, the ways I want to touch the tip of the wave as it foams and settles for a small moment on the beach. We are constantly breaking down and re-negotiating ourselves and the terrain.”

 

 

Site 1: Rialto Beach

 

When we got out at Rialto I thought a lot about the idea of “maintenance:” the bathrooms, water spigot, and jetty to the South of the beach, all of which made it and surrounding area friendly (or friendlier) to people. But the other forms of maintenance also struck me, like the intense wave action that could be felt underfoot and smelt in the air. The same wave action that had removed most of the soft sand and pushed the pebbles up the beach, that had eroded the coast line to such a degree that the upright sun-bleached trees were no longer as recognizable as the lush forest line behind them. I wondered how far the coast will be moved as the ocean rises and the storm action increases.

 

Site 2: Hole in the Wall

 

As I approached Hole in the Wall, I couldn’t help but wonder if there was a threshold I had crossed that meant I had officially left Rialto Beach. The chaos and confusion of the mixture of rocky substrate left me wondering things like: what is the deal with this seeming hodgepodge of crust? How many different processes are interacting to create such a diverse aesthetic and texture of cliffs, sand, and rock? How old did the clay that animals had burrowed into have to be before it set into a harder version of itself and became the larger boulders riddled with holes? But I also began to think of my mom, who passed away in December, and how she loved to whale watch. She wrote me a letter in which she told me to picture her every time I saw a puppy or the wind moved through the trees. At the time I was eye-rollingly angry but simultaneously found her message endearing and emblematic of her personality. I watched the forest breathing ocean air and hurt for a moment on a beautiful, sunny day, while turning over the idea of processes of humans and places.

 

Site 3: Second Beach

At Second Beach I was still tired from the hike the previous day but found the site welcoming and soft. There were not many larger pebbles to walk over and the flatter beach was amenable to bare feet. I regretfully did not take many field notes, as my brain did not want to solve the visual problem of illustrating the area. While the waves were much softer, possibly due to the island to the North and the numerous sea stacks breaking the energy of the swash and backwash, the area just South of the arch was littered with smaller woody debris which raked over the rocks in the water like a dull xylophone or a muted instrument.

 

 

“You yourself are the one that feels small. ‘The sea makes the rules’ is what the welcome sign says. I think of how the animals organize themselves, constantly moving. Even the sessile creatures started out as free floaters, and they took a chance on a more permanent settlement. I find a man-made piece of material covered in barnacles, most of which look dead. I think about their journey at sea and how they ultimately wound up here, dead, on a beach. A successful community betrayed by their home: the sea and their settlement. But what is a successful community? If we are all going to die, maybe death doesn’t mean failure.”

 

VCC Full Coast Site