Pescadero Memories

(Galen Wolf watercolor of Loren Coburn’s Folly, also known as the Pebble Beach Hotel, south of Pescadero.)

[Note: I wrote this in 1977.]

In 1867 tragedy struck again…this time the British bark, Coya, carrying a cargo of coal from Newcastle rammed a reef near Franklin Point. The Coya, whose 27 passengers included three women, turned over and sank.

As W. I. Carpenter observed the Prussian barkentine, Forget-Me-Not, fire her signal guns off Pigeon Point, he rode all night to inform port authorities in San Francisco of the vessel’s distress. On this occasion, the tugs Rescue and Goliah arrived in time to assist the ailing ship into port. Besides praise for his heroic deed, Mr. Carpenter received a handsome reward.

[Note: I wrote this in 1977.]

While searching for San Francisco in 1865, the American clipper, Sir John Franklin, lost her way in a dense fog and mountainous sea. When the weather cleared some 24 hours later, the captain viewed the breakers ahead with great alarm….but it was already too late.

The Sir John Franklin screeched loudly as she struck the dark reefs. A crew member shouted “Abandon ship!” when he discovered the huge hole in the hull. The cargo, including pianos and dry goods and liquor, followed them, swept away by the powerful current.

The captain, first mate and 11 others struggled to swim in the heavy surf but the die was cast as all met a watery death on that fateful day.

Witnesses, local residents who witnessed the horrific shipwreck, called it the most disastrous to date. In memory of those who lost their lives in the insurmountable seas, the place where the Sir John Franklin struck (midway between Ano Nuevo and Pigeon Point) was christened Franklin Point.

Photo: San Mateo County History Museum. Please visit the museum at the historic Redwood City Courthouse. The History Museum is my favorite charity.

[Note: I wrote this in 1977]

When the ship Carrier Pigeon vanished into a thick blanket of fog somewhere near Point Ano Nuevo in 1853, Captain Azariah Doane desperately sought to determine his bearings.

Captain Doane little realized then that a strong current was swiftly luring the Carrier Pigeon north toward some six miles of dangerous, rocky shoreline….and despite the captain and his crew’s outward confidence, they probably concealed a shared eerie premonition on this, their maiden voyage from Boston to San Francisco.

They should have paid attention to their inner dialogue because while they thought they were far out at sea–the ship with a figurehead resembling a finely carved gilded pigeon–steadily sailed toward the rugged coastline…closer, closer, closer….

And seconds later, the Carrier Pigeon lurched wildly and the crew reeled forward as the vessel crashed into the claw shaped rocks. Fifteen minutes later, a rush of salt water streamed into the hold, 7 feet high. Half-an-hour later, tremendous waves smashed over the lower deck. The captain and her crew drowned. By dusk, the Carrier Pigeon lay fatally wounded, stranded on a rocky ledge, her bow pointed 500 feet from shore.

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“Shipwrecks, Scalawags and Scavengers” by JoAnn Semones. Haven’t read it yet, but I’m going to! Available at the bookstores in Half Moon Bay. Click here to choose your local bookstore.

[Note: I wrote this in 1992; the photo appeared with the article.]

[Photo: The Keeper of the Lighthouse and his family and an assistant resided in this comfortable home at Pigeon Point light station built before the turn of the century. The sum of $12,000 was appropriated for the structure.]

“Novice” was the pen name of a restless South Coastside woman who joked in 1873 that “she would rather spend a whole week driving and sightseeing than in the wash-tub.”

(By driving, she meant via horse and carriage.)

When heavy winter storms kept the San Gregorio writer housebound, she couldn’t wait to get back on the road. And the moment there was a break in the weather, “Novice” was ready for an adventure on the South Coast–an adventure that would end up as a story she would mail for publication in the San Mateo County newspaper.

I’m ready, she said, looking at the gloomy gray sky “to drink any amount of salt air and stray bits of scenery.”

She invited friends to accompany her on the bumpy carriage ride, and the party arrived in Pescadero at 9 a.m.–but they didn’t remain long in the popular seaside resort. After a “vote,” she and her friends decided “to do” the Pigeon Point Lighthouse. A month earlier the new lighthouse had celebrated its first anniversary.

Surely when Novice and her pals arrived at the new landmark, they knew the back story; they had heard the gossip about the nasty legal battle over the nearby busy wharf (the only wharf for miles.)
Here are the juicy details: For a decade, Loren Coburn, the controversial landowner and world-class litigant, had leased the wharf to several ex-San Mateo County officials. They then modernized the primitive facilities making it possible for small steamers to load and unload local produce and supplies in a few hours instead of the usual two days.

Well, the lease had expired and now that the former county officials had made the improvements, they didn’t want to give up the property. They refused to honor the contract and the legal dispute landed in the courts.

In the meantime, there had been unfriendly confrontations and threats of violence. (For more details, read my “Coburn Mystery.”

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1970s Friends of the Calamari (Photo: Paul Schraub)

Thank you John Vonderlin (benloudman@sbcglobal.net) for emailing this…

From: Coast Dairies Property: A Land Use History, click here

“The Davenport cement plant (it became Pacific Cement and Aggregates in 1956, Lonestar Cement Corporation in 1965 and RMC Pacific Materials in 1988), brought immediate military attention to the North Coast following the attack on Pearl Harbor in December 1941. Believing that Japan might attack the U.S. mainland, the military quickly posted guards and lookouts around Davenport and imposed stringent blackout requirements on its residents.

“Later in December, when the ship Agiworld was attacked by a Japanese submarine off Cypress Point south of Monterey, security along the coast was heightened. A Japanese submarine was also sighted off the coast a few miles north of Davenport, resulting in a brief skirmish between the submarine and a single plane from the Army Air Corps.

“Eventually a segment of the all-black 54th Coast Artillery was stationed at Davenport and regular night canine patrols were instituted at all the area beaches. In addition, four shore mounted guns were placed strategically around the Cement Plant. Two 75mm guns were mounted overlooking the pier and two 155mm Howitzers were mounted just to the east of Newtown. Many of the young people living in the area at the time became airplane spotters, spending long hours in the lookout stations posted along the coastal hills.

“Perhaps the most disruptive part of the early months of the war was the removal of many Italians from the coast, along with all persons of Japanese ancestry.

“Beginning in February of 1942, all Italian aliens living inland from Highway 1 south of Laguna Creek were required to move inland from the highway, and since many of the Italian families living on the North Coast had elderly unnaturalized parents and grandparents, the military orders brought extreme hardships to the farmers between Laguna Creek and the city limits of Santa Cruz. For the few families of Japanese present since the 1920s, the removal from the North Coast to a concentration camp in Arizona was devastating. Very few of the Japanese returned to the North Coast after the war.”

 Story by John Vonderlin (email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Please read Parts 1-4 below

Hi June,
Driving a few miles north from Pomponio Beach and the Merry Prankster’s tsunami tunnel, we arrive at San Gregorio Beach, and its California Landmark 26 plaque, commemorating Portola’s expedition’s three days of rest here.

Our stay in “The Valley of Curses,” as it is called Miguel Costanso’s diary, the Engineer for Portola’s expedition, will hopefully be more pleasant than theirs was. Before I start this entry in the Quest’s story, here are a few excerpts from almost 250 years ago, telling about Portola’s visit to this place.

“October 24
The village stood within a valley surrounded by high hills, and the ocean could be seen through an entrance to the west-northwest. There was in the valley a stream of running water, and the land, though burned in the vicinity of the village, was not without pasture on the hillsides.

“October 25
Many of the pack-mules were exhausted by the preceding day’s march, and they were given a rest to-day that they might recover their strength. The scouts were sent out to examine the country with guides from among these Indians. They returned in the evening without any news of importance; they had gone about four leagues to the north-northwest along the coast.

“October 26
As the captain of the company of the Californias, Don Fernando de Rivera y Moncada, was ill of the common sickness — the scurvy — and, because of a diarrhea which attacked many of us, we were forced to delay the march.

“October 27
“We left the valley, which the soldiers called “Valle de los Cursos,” heading north.”

But, we leave the valley heading south along the beach for reasons having nothing to do with the “Curses, soiled again,” aspect of Portola’s expedition. Rather our goal, the “Grafitti Grotto,” lies in this direction. If you follow, you may have to ford the wandering San Gregorio Creek, and if the rainy season has broken open the lagoon, but at least no wave dodging is required in this direction. Rather, in this stretch, the cliffs run unusually straight for more then a mile with a nice buildup of sand at their foot, only inundated by the highest of tides or the strongest of storms.

Twenty minutes later we’re at our destination, a small cave at the base of the cliff where it juts out in a small promontory. Seconds later the truth is obvious. The initials just inside the mouth of the cave are not Z.E.K. They are Z.C.K., Zane Kesey’s. The scratch I had assumed was the middle bar in the “E” isn’t. It’s not connected as the other lines in the initials are, nor is it as deep. I photograph it while I’m thinking the kid in the man is going to love to relive this time when I send him this photo. While Dad was holding court, the little prince was exploring his kingdom.

Entering the small space we see his initials are not alone. There are etchings everywhere. There are young love’s plus-signed pairings. There are peace signs and valentines and other less familiar symbols. And perhaps most importantly, there are dates. I see a ‘97 there, here a ‘90, and even an ‘86.

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"Is the story of the origin of the 'Merry Pranksters' true? Does the sacred tunnel site exist?"....John Vonderlin (email John: benloudman@sbcglobal.net)

Soon I spied and immediately recognized a splash of orange resting on the sand ahead: Another "Scotty Crab Diner Nesting Bait Jar,” to add to my collection.

Reaching it, I saw it was a nice one too, festooned with young barnacles, indicating its escape from servitude had occurred some time ago. I love these little Judas goats. Not because they proffer irresistible delights to hundreds of thousands of crabs that are lured into entrapment, soon followed by the gruesome death of being boiled alive for our gustatory delight. And not because their commonness in my marine debris collection allows me to incorporate them in various art pieces, like the tentacles of the monumental, “Squidy Litter.” No. It’s the name embossed on their top: “Scotty Crab Diner Nesting Bait Jar,” that incites my devotion.

After much practice I can make the mellifluous mantric moniker roll flawlessly, fluidly, even hypnotically off my tongue: “Scotty Crab Diner Nesting Bait Jar” “Scotty Crab Diner Nesting Bait Jar.” It’s so mysterious. A “Diner” that only allows you to smell the food, that has no place to Nest on and isn’t a jar.

But, I digress into unneeded detail–only because just after I had reached this arthropodal death trap lure, bent over, picked it up, then straightened up while examining it, my eyes strayed to the cliff ahead of us and I saw it:

THE TUNNEL OPENING

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