The Last Dune in Santa Cruz?

“Wanderers among dunes may feel a thrill in their alien presence, be enchanted, or, like early saints, see visions in mirages and hear voices in the falling sand,” California writer D.J. Waldie has said.

I did not feel like a saint, but when our gang of four hit the sands at Younger Lagoon, I did feel a little like we had landed on Gilligan’s Island. With only the sound of wind, waves and raptors, my fellow tour mates and I danced around and explored like we were on our own private island, and in a way, we were. 

Younger Lagoon lies at the northern edge of Santa Cruz and can only be accessed by a docent-guided tour at the Seymour Marine Discovery Center at Long Marine Laboratory.  I was joined by board members Leslie Evans and Shirley Ginzburg, a friend of mine, and her husband.

Ann Hayes, assistant director for Physical and Biological Sciences Development at UC Santa Cruz, led us down the slopes through native plants, which had been painstakingly planted after volunteers and UCSC interns had pulled up invasive, non-natives, like ice plant and European beach grass. The restoration has taken years, but passion runs deep.

The aroma of replanted sage filled our senses, as Ann unlocked the chained link fence that protects the fragile lagoon ecosystem. Unfortunately, surfers still manage to climb over.

“The natural process that creates dunes has mostly been disrupted by roads, railroad tracks, recreational use and development of the shore line," Hayes said. "Water has been blocked and rerouted so that’s why few lagoons still remain. Neary is a lagoon that was not fed or drained before it was developed.

“Dunes need wind to be moved and formed, and they need a space to do it in," she added. "Look at Pescadero. Sand that could have formed big dunes blows across the highway instead.”  

The lagoon is a postage-stamp-sized natural habitat through which animals like coyotes and bobcats migrate, explained Elizabeth Howard, field manager for Younger Lagoon.

As we walked down to the beach through landscapes of sticky monkey flower and lizard tail daisy, we had a unique view of the marine terraces across the highway. The steep bluffs, once sea cliffs that serve as retaining walls for the green terraces, emerge like chiseled stairways up the side of the mountain.

The terraces are ancient sea floors that were flattened by waves and uplifted by tectonic forces.

On the beach, we saw animal tracks, the serpentine engravings of a snake in the sand, a dead bob cat and one of the cameras set up by UCSC to monitor the comings and goings of assorted non-human beach visitors.

As we wandered along taking pictures of beach morning glories and sea rockets, I asked Shirley why she spent her time as a Seymour Center Board member.

“I was not the architect, but I saw the architectural plan. I was not the visionary, but I heard the visionaries speak. I was not the person to make major donations, but I could be with the people who were and feel their passion, how important it was to them. And even though I was a little cog, and am still a little cog in the wheel, it’s a fascinating wheel [with] people who put their energy and their money behind it and invite others to do so, and I can be part of that.”

As we walked back up the path, Leslie, the other member of the board, stopped, and turning back to the lagoon with outstretched arms, said something into the wind.

“I was thanking the ocean and the life and the positive energy and the star dust for letting me be a part of it.”

For more information about events and activities at the Seymour Center, visitwww2.ucsc.edu/seymourcenter/.