Ramblings of an Infrastructure Planner

I stare out the driver side window and look out over the miles and miles of row crops that stretch as far as the eye can see. The fruit basket of the west flows past me to the melodious drone of the tires on grooved asphalt. Cruising along at 75 they blow past in a blur of green and brown, occasionally broken up by a canal or ditch bank.

It is one of those glorious Fall afternoons, clear skies and the rear view mirror revels the towering Sierra Nevada. In front of me the Coast Range sticks up like a small distant cousin. The two ranges spilling their souls over the eons to form the alluvial plane that feeds the millions. It’s only an hour drive to The Baths, but it always seems longer. The ever-present fear of the mustachioed, Ray-Ban Pilot wearing, donut eating, CHP officer stroking the radar gun tucked between his legs. Toothpick tucked in the corner of his mouth.

I have been a consultant to the City of the Baths for several months now and an interesting image has come into my mind. This City is still growing on the back of the Bay. Like low-lying ground accepting the floodwaters, The Baths accepts the multitudes that spill over and escape the grip of the Tri-Valleys, and the rest of the I-580 corridor. The snaking trickle of that leading edge of the water wiggles its way to the lower portion of the garden searching out the lowest spot until it settles in and begins to percolate.

The people seek out something else that is lower. They look to the farthest reaches of their tolerance for the car and settle into a community, only to leave it for most of the day, then return on the backs of their octane powered chariots to settle into the 2 month old home in a 100 year old City. Nearly half of its residents commute to the Bay every day to work. If your job takes you to the City, then that’s 4 hours of driving a day.

I could not do it.

I was thinking about that statistic for a moment. Cities like Los Banos, Santa Nella, Patterson, Tracy, they have evolved from the beginning due to the need for a place to stop, transportation could not get you to where you wanted to go fast enough and you would need to rest. The clop, clop of the horse gets old and you need to wash the dust off. Trading posts evolved to refill your 1-horse powered chariot, and your thirst for a little brown bag. Eventually people settled down and raised cattle and planted a few things. But still, it was just a stop and the growing stalled. As transportation got better, there was no need to stop, and over the years the vitality diminished as people drove on past. Everybody knows the story, but now, new life, a new beginning. Transportation (the car) has gotten so easy that you can live and commute to the farthest reaches of your abilities. These cities have grabbed hold of this and built their communities on the daily transients. It has interesting ramifications on a City, gone by day return at night. Families living their lives apart from each other, separate realities.

The Cities die by the car, and now live again by the car. The black strip of asphalt becomes the new lifeline to economic vitality.

The City keeps on growing, stretching its tentacles farther and farther out into the soil and wetlands making room for more babies and flowerpots. But now, they want the people to stay, planning business parks, industrial centers and community college campuses. The thought is, eventually they will break down, grow weary of the wretched commute and crave something close, something community, something more in the backyard. So the City keeps on planning. Lying pipelines underground to carry the waste, building water lines and treatment plants to quench the thirst of the weary traveler. Revitalizing the City center, waiting for them to stay, walk, and stroll. Reluctantly they finally let go and say goodbye to the high rise and the culture they so long have grasped to still be a part of.

Finally, again, the beginning of a new life, or so they hope.