California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline

California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline

by Rosanna Xia
California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline

California Against the Sea: Visions for Our Vanishing Coastline

by Rosanna Xia

Hardcover

$30.00 
  • SHIP THIS ITEM
    Qualifies for Free Shipping
  • PICK UP IN STORE
    Check Availability at Nearby Stores

Related collections and offers


Overview

From a celebrated environmental journalist, the riveting exploration of sea level rise along the West Coast through human stories and ecological dramas.

2023 Golden Poppy Award Winner for Nonfiction, Chosen by the California Independent Booksellers Alliance

"Viscerally urgent, thoroughly reported, and compellingly written—a must-read for our uncertain times." —Ed Yong, author of An Immense World

"When do seawalls make sense? And when is it better to give in to the tides? [...] In California Against the Sea, Xia [...] writes about the difficult realities of trying to incorporate fairness into our tally of costs and benefits." —The New Yorker

Along California’s 1,200-mile coastline, the overheated Pacific Ocean is rising and pressing in, imperiling both wildlife and the maritime towns and cities that 27 million people call home. In California Against the Sea, Los Angeles Times coastal reporter Rosanna Xia asks: As climate chaos threatens the places we love so fiercely, will we finally grasp our collective capacity for change?

Xia, a Pulitzer Prize finalist, investigates the impacts of engineered landscapes, the market pressures of development, and the ecological activism and political scrimmages that have carved our contemporary coastline—and foretell even greater changes to our shores. From the beaches of the Mexican border up to the sheer-cliffed North Coast, the voices of Indigenous leaders, community activists, small-town mayors, urban engineers, and tenacious environmental scientists commingle. Together, they chronicle the challenges and urgency of forging a climate-wise future. Xia’s investigation takes us to Imperial Beach, Los Angeles, Pacifica, Marin City, San Francisco, and beyond, weighing the rivaling arguments, agreements, compromises, and visions governing the State of California’s commitment to a coast for all. Through graceful reportage, she charts how the decisions we make today will determine where we go tomorrow: headlong into natural disaster, or toward an equitable refashioning of coastal stewardship.


Product Details

ISBN-13: 9781597146197
Publisher: Heyday
Publication date: 09/26/2023
Pages: 336
Sales rank: 108,469
Product dimensions: 5.50(w) x 8.30(h) x 1.20(d)

About the Author

Rosanna Xia is an environmental reporter for the Los Angeles Times, where she specializes in stories about the coast and ocean. She was a Pulitzer Prize finalist in 2020 for explanatory reporting, and her work has been anthologized in the Best American Science and Nature Writing series.

Read an Excerpt

EXCERPT FROM CHAPTER 1

The water churned with a wild energy one winter morning in Imperial Beach, and the people living along Sea-coast Drive had been forewarned. Sandbags, stacked along driveways and sliding glass doors, lined the quiet beachfront road. Boarded-up windows cast an even darker predawn gloom. At 4 a.m., the neighborhood barely stirred, but those lying awake in bed could feel the deep rumble, then crash, as the ocean unleashed wave after big wave. It was only a few weeks into the year 2019, and the sea, burdened by melting ice and a human-altered world, was already hinting at what will become routine. A supermoon was hours away from aligning with the sun and the Earth—locking in step a fierce gravitational pull that creates higher-than-high tides. Just offshore, a network of buoy sensors had alerted UC San Diego’s Scripps Institution of Oceanography that, on top of all this, the surf was also syncing up to be exceptionally large.

Three scientists, shouldering a drone and other wave-monitoring equipment, hastened on foot toward a three-story condo to reckon with what this confluence was wrecking. They had parked farther away, anticipating that the road, on a thin spit of land barely separating ocean from marsh, would be inundated by midday. Puddles were already pooling one block away, and the air, dampened by blasts of sea spray, made them wonder just how forcefully the waves were breaking. They scrambled upstairs to the balcony to get a better view.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, it’s already happening!” Laura Engeman said. The beach was submerged, the sea already rushing over the seawall and spilling onto Seacoast Drive. She had thought they would have at least an hour to set up that morning, but the flood had arrived long before the highest point of the tide. Across the street, the marsh was swelling over the cordgrass as saltwater rose from all sides. Ocean and wetland were reaching for each other, remembering a time when the California coast was not hemmed in by pavement, a time when the water could still be one.

Engeman, a program manager at Scripps who specializes in getting communities to think about climate adaptation, had been tracking what she called “combined-risk events” in this big surf town. Paying attention to the waves, the tide, the floods that keep recurring, she said, could help more people understand what the ocean has in store. And now here she was with her colleagues, the clock already ticking, surrounded by this turbulent laboratory churning with new data. Right before their eyes was a window into the many pressures looming over the rest of California.

Another low boom from the ocean quaked and thundered. Her team stood by in momentary shock. There had been quite a bit of flooding here just a month earlier—signs of an already astonishing winter. But these waves right now, these swells, were much bigger than anything they had seen all season.

An oft-overlooked city on the southernmost corner of the California coast, Imperial Beach marks where the Tijuana River carves and flushes through land and marsh, the joining of two countries by the sea. There is more grit, less Malibu glitz in this seaside town, where one-fifth of the community is lower-income, and retirees on Social Security still have a shot at living the waterfront dream. Residents treading across the sand can speak through a metal fence to those in Mexico admiring the same sunset and the same white pelicans soaring overhead. The city’s prosperity lies in its public beaches and wetlands—a shared refuge for those seeking the unbridled joy of being near a body of water as vast as the Pacific.

Imperial Beach, as the story goes for so much of the state’s golden shore, began with a yearning to settle on the very edges of the sea. This sandy stretch of California had first been home to the Kumeyaay people, who for thousands of years lived with the water, the mollusks, the plants and animals nestled between the tides. Then Spanish missionaries arrived and forced their ways onto the coast, followed by the Mexican army and early Californians. By the 1880s, the area had become a summer respite for farmers fleeing the inland heat of the Imperial Valley. Wealthier vacationers flocked just up the coast to the Hotel del Coronado, a lavish display of architectural ambition that rose in 1887 atop a sand spit where jackrabbits and coyotes once roamed. The railroad roared through nearby San Diego, bringing even more people to the shore.

For decades, developers drew up plans to fill Imperial Beach’s wetlands and also transform the town with glamorous shops and homes. But efforts to build never quite took hold beyond some modest housing that popped up along the fringes of the sea. While other coastal towns thrived with tourism and resorts planted right on the sand, the community here remained largely working-class, with no grand feat of engineering to call its own. But for hundreds of sweeping acres, salt grass could continue to root itself into the muddy landscape, submerging and re-emerging with the tides. Least terns and egrets still had their nesting grounds, legless lizards their sandy soils. Stretching along the inland side of Seacoast Drive, the Tijuana River Estuary held on as the largest remaining salt marsh in Southern California.

While Imperial Beach never kept up with its wealthier neighbors, it does hold claim to another California staple: epic surf. Large colorful arches in the shape of surfboards welcome visitors by the old-school pier, where a series of retro benches tells the story of Allen “Dempsey” Holder and other surfers who, in the 1930s, ’40s, and ’50s, conquered some of the largest waves on the coast. Known as the Sloughs, this giant, unrelenting break at the Tijuana River mouth feeds off the power of both river and sea. Comparable to the outer reef breaks in Hawaii, these legendary swells were once considered the gold standard in Southern California for heavy-water surfing.

But for all this deference to marsh and ocean, human disregard for nature still seeps into the town. The Sloughs today are off-limits much of the year, contaminated by plumes of untreated sewage spilling in from Mexico. Heavy surf now means soaked roads every winter, threatening the homes and modest infrastructure that have helped the community come into its own. Those already living below sea level recall floodwaters so high after the last big storm that they had to use canoes. Imperial Beach stands to lose one-third of the town to sea level rise, but few residents have processed this slow-moving disaster that is already sweeping over their shore.

The California coast grew and prospered during a remarkable moment in history when the sea was at its tamest. The Beach Boys crooned of crimson sunsets and golden dawns, woodies, and palm trees in the sand. Laguna Beach and Malibu sparkled white, their wide, sandy beaches dotted with seashells at low tide and surf shacks mere steps from the sea. Wooden piers staked each city’s claim along the 1,200-mile shore, which beckoned to the millions who came west and felt the ocean calling.

But the mighty Pacific, unbeknownst to all, was nearing its final years of a gentle but unusual cycle that had lulled dreaming settlers into a deceptive endless summer.

[…]

Table of Contents

Coast Under Siege 

1. California against the Sea

2. Our Vanishing Coastline

3. A Town on the Edge

Saving the Golden Shore 

4. The People’s Law

5. Protect at What Cost?

6. Choosing Casualties

Missing Pieces

7. The People’s Coast

8. Overlooked and Forgotten

9. Rebirth Between the Tides

10. Relearning the Ways of the Shore

May We Open Our Eyes to Water 

11. Grappling with Retreat

12. The Little Town That Would

13. Bridges to the Future

Acknowledgments

Notes and Further Reading

Index

About the Author 

From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews