It’s amusing to think that Slab City exists primarily because the military lawyers who drew up the papers for deeding the land Camp Dunlap was situated on to the State of California made a slight error. According to Wikipedia:
As of October 6, 1961, a quitclaim deed conveying the land to the State of California was issued by the Department of Defense as it was determined the land was no longer required. The deed did not contain any restrictions, recapture clauses, or restoration provisions. All of the former Camp Dunlap buildings had been removed. The remaining slabs were not proposed for removal. Later, legislation required that revenue generated from this property would go to the California State Teachers’ Retirement System.
But was there ever any revenue generated from the Camp Dunlap property? Who would be so imprudent as to spend good money buying land occupied by squatters, tweakers, snowbirds, religious freaks, people hiding out from the law, and other non-solid citizens?
If the bronze plaque above looks weirdly shaped, it’s because it is shaped like Imperial County.
Bombay Beach was only an appetizer. For real off-the-grid living, there’s no place like Slab City, several miles inland from Niland, California, along a fast deteriorating paved road.
Once upon a time, this used to be the Marine Corps’ Camp Dunlap, used for artillery training during World War Two and also as a bombing range for planes flying out of Marine Corps Air Station El Centro. Around 1950, the USMC started closing up shop. They took away all the buildings and tents, leaving only the slabs. Due to an interesting legal error, which I will discuss in tomorrow’s post, the area was left open for whoever wanted to squat on the premises.
It didn’t take long before the squatters starting showing up. Billing itself as “the last free place,” Slab City started taking off in the 1980s after articles in trailer and Recreational Vehicle (RV) magazines wrote articles featuring it.
Do You See Any Power Lines? Nope
Unlike Bombay Beach, the subject of yesterday’s post, there is neither running water nor electrical power nor trash pickup in Slab City. I imagine that water has to be trucked in from elsewhere in Imperial County. As for power, there are a lot of solar panels and probably not many air conditioners. During the summer, the mean daily maximum temperature is between 102° and 107° Fahrenheit (39° and 42° Celsius). Being in the middle of the desert, the precipitation is mostly nonexistent, and the wind can be wicked, bringing with it chemicals from the polluted Salton Sea shore.
On the other hand, there is no cost to live in Slab City. In addition to about 150 year-round residents, during the winter months thousands of snowbirds from around the US. and Canada park their RVs in an empty spot along the road and prepare to enjoy a life of doing not much.
Apparently there is a nearby hot spring where people can bathe and even shower. As Slab City is situated along the San Andreas fault, one can count on a number of natural hot springs along its length. (And one can also count on earthquakes from time to time.)
For an interesting picture of what it is like to visit Slab City, check out the Wiki Voyage page. And don’t forget to drink lots and lots of water.
You cannot find a more low-down community in the United States. Literally. That’s because the unincorporated town of Bombay Beach is 223 feet (68 meters) below sea level. It used to be larger, but each successive census has shown a drop in population, in 2020 down to 231. And that number is a little dicey because of the large number of snowbirds who winter there.
In 1999, Huell Howser did an episode of his show “Visiting” in a Bombay Beach which is hardly recognizable today. Back then most of the residents appeared to be senior citizens. At some point since then, the hipsters moved in, and the whole place became something of an art installation.
As such, it’s a fun place to visit. My bother and I spent a couple hours there last Saturday.
Art Installation in Bombay Beach
The beach itself is no beauty. At times, the town of Bombay Beach floods when the sea, which has no outlet, rises in an unusually wet year. Part of the town is now isolated from the beach by a protective berm. In any case, the sea frequently smells bad because of all the fish die-offs. In fact, the Huell Howser video shows him walking noisily on the bones of dead fish that line the shore.
Art Along the Beach
Many of the current residents of the town are living off the grid, using solar panels to provide electricity. There is water service provided by the Coachella Valley Water District. I rather doubt that sewage is piped out of town, as the next populated place is Niland, California, some 18 miles (29 kilometers) south. There is no gas station in town, and only one bar/restaurant and possibly one convenience store.
Beginning tomorrow, we will visit a place that is really off the grid.
When I was still in college trying to decide where I would go to graduate school, I kept studying maps of California because it looked like I would attend UCLA (which I did). The one thing that arrested my attention was that Southern California had a sea entirely within the state. It was called the Salton Sea, and it did not seem to have any major population centers along its banks. Why, I wondered.
It seems that the Salton Sea was created by accident in 1905-1906 when the Colorado River was diverted to flow into a low-lying basin that had been dry since the late 16th century. For a while, particularly in the 1950s and 1960s, it was a major tourist draw—but not in the summer, when the temperature frequently exceeded 120° Fahrenheit (49° Celsius). Hollywood stars swam and boated in the waters, and there were a number of resort towns along the banks.
During the 1970s, the Sea’s increasing salinity and pollution resulted in large-scale fish and bird deaths; and, suddenly, the Salton Sea was deemed an environmental disaster. Plus, it was shrinking due to evaporation. The roads to the north ran through land that was white with salt. People started to remember that the San Andreas Fault ran right through the middle.
Last Saturday, my brother and I drove along the eastern shore of the Sea to view a stark landscape that was staging a weird comeback, first as a major lithium extraction site, and secondly as a magnet for people who wanted to live off the grid.
For the next several days, I will be posting blogs in a series I call “Off the Grid,” about our visit to the rogue communities of Bombay Beach, Slab City, Salvation Mountain, and East Jesus. None of them are incorporated cities, but all are alive with a kind of ferment that lends them a certain glow.
I will not be posting this weekend because I am off to the desert to visit my brother. It’s been months since I’ve seen him, so I’m looking forward to it.
Expect to see some new desert photos when I return on Monday.
Is it time to turn on the news yet? And when it is, what do you expect to hear? I don’t know about you, but I have come to the conclusion that the purpose of the news is to sell advertising by making the viewers fearful, such that they will want to be “informed” on the latest developments and continue to come back for more.
I have been asked by several friends outside of California whether I have “survived” the rainstorms that have hit the state this month. Evidently, I have, as I am writing this blog.
Southern California weather news can be illustrated by the following Venn diagram:
The blue circle indicates that “there has been too much rain”; the yellow circle, that “there has not been enough rain.” And what about the pale green zone where the two circles intersect? That’s when some weather reports are saying “there has been too much rain” and some others are saying that “there has not been enough rain”—at the same time!
At the same time we have been bombarded by reports of too much rain, there have been numerous stories that now a La Nina weather pattern is being established and that soon we will not be getting enough rain.
Apparently, there is no such thing as “just the right amount of rain.” It’s always a case of too much or not enough.
My suggestion for all of you: Try not to turn on the news just before going to bed. It will play havoc with your sleep.
I know that Valentine’s Day was three days ago, but Martine and I decided to commemorate it anew with a visit to Susan and Rey Tejada’s Grier-Musser Museum. There we saw the elegant collection of figurines, greeting cards, and other antiques honoring the holiday.
There is an elegance, even a sense of formality, to the way our forefathers saw the rites of love-making in the 19th cntury. One could see a change in the way the subject was treated after the First World War. The flappers of the 1920s appeared to be more in charge, an impression that was underlined by the newfound power of Hollywood.
The Grier-Musser Museum brings us almost up to the present day. Sue and Rey are big-time movie junkies and spend a lot of time with their fingers on the pulse of popular culture. Their holiday exhibits, particularly around Halloween and Christmas, are a great way to see how the culture has changed and continues changing.
Who is that skeptical-looking muckenfuss with lovely Barbie? Oh, that’s me. I must have been making that sour face because both Margot Robbie and director Greta Gerwig were unfairly denied Oscars for their part in making what, to my mind, is the best film of 2023. Why should I be surprised? Awards, particularly in show biz, reflect the petty hatreds of professionals. Rarely have I agreed wholeheartedly with the Academy’s choices.
Now that I am on my way with Barbie to the Real World, I’d better check my bright yellow inline roller blades and my rad duds for making the scene on Venice Beach.
I guess I loved Barbie because it was so refreshing to see a purely feminine viewpoint unmarred by crass mansplaining. Mattel actively participated in the film even though its 100& white male Board of Directors in the film is actually pretty evenly split between six men and five women.
Barbie and Ken on Venice Beach
What struck me is that both Barbie and Ken were totally naive and un-selfconscious about their roles. It was like the story of Pinocchio, with both characters striving to become real people, or at least contented to be themselves. I felt for Ken and his attempt to set up the patriarchy in Barbieland, to be renamed Kenland. The Barbies ultimately win, but then the Kens accept their second-string status.
In a way, it was a pity to see the Mojo Dojo Casa House disinfected and returned to Barbie. Some, like Bill Maher, see the film as ultimately a man-hating product. I did not.
Bobby Fischer (1943-2008), Former World Chess Champion
To be sure, Bobby Fischer was no exemplar for anyone’s behavior. His was the classical example of what can happen when you achieve your fondest wish, in his case to become the world chess champion after the Russians controlled the number one spot from 1937 to 1972.
I just finished reading a pamphlet Fischer published after he was picked up by the Pasadena, California police in May 1981 and horrendously mistreated because of his “bad attitude.” He was kept without clothes in an icy cell, deprived of the right to make a phone call, robbed of the cash in his wallet, and denied sufficient food and water during his incarceration. Below is a photo of his pamphlet’s cover:
Why do I appear to be so obsessed with Bobby Fischer? The main reason is that I love chess, and Bobby was one of two American world champions—both of whom went off the rails after their moment of glory. I will post a blog about Paul Morphy (1837-1884) within the next day or so.
Also, I am appalled because this would not have happened to Fischer had he been Russian. Unless for some reason he defied the powers that be in the Soviet Union, he would have lived well with a generous pension from Mother Russia. America doesn’t always know how to treat its heroes. And Fischer was a real hero, possibly the best chess player who ever lived.
Another reason: Fischer’s birth father was NOT Hans-Gerhardt Fischer, whose name appeared on Bobby’s birth certificate, but Paul Neményi, a distinguished Hungarian mathematician whom whom his mother Regina had an affair during the war. See for yourself:
Left: Bobby Fischer, Right: Paul Neményi.
It warms my Magyar heart to know that Bobby was one of my countrymen, both as a Hungarian and as an American.
Whenever the mercury climbs to the high eighties or low nineties (30-35° Celsius), I head to Chace Park in Marina del Rey, find a shady spot, eat my lunch, and begin to read. In the background there is a lot of barking by the sea lions (Zalophus californianus); and dozens of little brown squirrels are climbing trees, descending from trees, and sometimes standing still staring at the tourists. It’s a friendly place, but one that definitely smells of the sea. More to the point, it is usually the coolest, breeziest place I know of to escape the heat.
Today, the sea lions were mostly youngsters. If one of them lolled on one of the wharves, he or she would bark loudly if joined by another sea lion. Maybe it was just their way of greeting one another. Maybe they just didn’t want to share their place in the sun.
The California sea lion can be found from the Alaska panhandle to the Pacific coast of Central Mexico. They are a good example of a non-endangered form of sea life. That makes me happy, because I love to hear them barking at one another.
Tarnmoor 
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