Tales from the Logbook--Diving the Junkyard

 

Living in Goleta in the 1970s, I knew of Haskell’s Beach just past where Hollister Avenue and Calle Real terminated at Highway US 101.  It was a surfing spot, so I never really paid much attention to it.  For beach going activities, Goleta Beach was much more accessible.  After I got certified as a diver in 1984, I started to venture to Haskell’s Beach. 

I first learned of the diving conditions off Haskell’s Beach from Mark Bursek, a dive buddy who worked at Santa Barbara Aquatics and studied Marine Technology/commercial diving at Santa Barbara City College. Mark referred to the location as “The Junkyard” because of all the oil pier debris that littered the ocean floor.  He explained that many of the kelp patches off Haskell’s Beach were not anchored to rock substrate but rather the steel and other solid surface debris that was sunk when the oil field piers were abandoned. 

I eventually got around to inspecting the area off Haskell’s Beach.  After crossing US 101 to the access road, I pulled into the dirt parking lot, geared up out of the back of my truck and walked down the path to the beach.  The kelp patches were a short distance from the beach.  At many of the kelp beds along Santa Barbara County’s south coast, such as those at Refugio State Beach, divers could enter the water, make the short surface swim to the edge of the kelp and drop down.  I discovered at Haskell’s and some of the nearby dive sites, that dropping down a few feet just past the breaker zone and swimming underwater following a compass heading (usually due south) minimized contact with ever present floating tar patties.

Rusting pier footings marked one of the entry points.  I dropped down and quickly found myself swimming between pairs of deteriorating underwater pilings that rose off the ocean floor and terminated about 10 feet beneath the surface.  These pilings were remnants of the pier pilings and marked the way to the large debris field.  “Junkyard” was a spot on accurate description of the myriad of debris that covered the bottom.  Steel rails that normally would have run straight were bent into spaghetti jumble.  Remnants of decking and other material were strewn across the area as if a two year old had scattered building blocks during a temper tantrum.  Sharp rusting spikes poked up through the debris.  All this wreckage provided a hard bottom for kelp holdfasts.

The hard bottom and kelp combined to create a habitat that was mush like many of what I called "patch reefs" that dot the coastline.  I saw a lot of senorita fish, a few kelp bass, dungenous crabs, spider crabs, and a few lobster.  There was also a fair amount of smaller sessile and mobile invertabrates.

In California, prior to 1955, any wells drilled to access oil deposits beneath the seafloor had to be drilled from upland locations or from piers that extended offshore from the shoreline.  The Ellwood Oil Field, discovered in 1928, extended from Coal Oil Point west beyond Haskell’s and today’s Bacarra’s Resort and was developed using both upland locations and piers.  Over the years, as the wells played out, the piers were no longer needed and were removed, sometimes using explosives.  Such destructive means would explain the bent rails and scattered debris.

I only made a handful of dives at The Junkyard between the late 1980s and early 1990s.  Two dives stand out in particular in my memory.  The first is a night dive that I did with Brandon Cole.  The second is a dive that I did with Bill Grandi.

The dive I did with Brandon was largely uneventful in its execution.  After exiting the water, we headed up the dirt path in the dark using our handheld dive lights to illuminate the way.  All of a sudden a bright spot light pierced the darkness, illuminating Brandon and I.  Just as quickly, the light was extinguished.  I expected to encounter a California Department of Fish and Game officer as we approached the parking lot.  We found no game warden, but passed by a group of people, none of whom said anything to us nor did I stop to ask why they had lit us up with a spotlight.  I was hoping we had not stumbled upon a water-borne smuggling operation.  The group was not belligerent but I did get a “don’t mess with us” vibe as we passed. We shed our gear and quickly cleared the area, still not sure what was going on.

A few weeks later I found the answer.  An article in the local paper announced the arrest of an individual who had been caught digging up sites associated with the two large Chumash villages that once occupied the area.  As described by Tom Nodugmo in the Haskell’s Beach webpage at the Goleta History website:

“Archaeologists have studied this area through the years, and several different village sites dating back thousands of years were located around the mouth of the Tecolote creek. Unfortunately, in the late 1800’s, pillaging village sites for profit was quite common. Tons of artifacts were taken and sold to private collections and museums all around the world. The looters not only took valuable relics, but also damaged the sites so badly that it was nearly impossible for twentieth century scientists to interpret their findings properly.”

Buried artifacts still remain and archaeological sites dot the area.  The newspaper article explained that  members of the American Indian Movement group were assisting the Sheriff’s Office in conducting site surveillance in the area.   I can only imagine what the reaction was of these guys when they caught the sight of two wetsuit clad divers with full dive gear in the light’s beam.

The dive I did with Bill Grandi was, in part, research based.  Bill was an Environmental Studies major at UCSB, a scuba diver, fellow member of the UCSB Scuba Club and the short-lived UCSB Ocean Rescue Team.  I spoke with Bill and his collaborator John, also a diver, in 1990 or 1991 about The Junkyard being created from oil field debris.  At the time, I was studying the development of offshore oil and gas in the Santa Barbara Channel as part of my Ph.D. dissertation.  For a class term project, Bill and John wanted an issue that would really stand out in its originality. 

I suggested they profile the consequence of earlier abandonment of the offshore portions of the Ellwood Oil Field as evidenced by The Junkyard.  This project had ongoing relevance as the last vestiges of the Ellwood Field were starting to be “decommissioned” (“abandonment” has a negative connotation).  Outside of initially showing Bill the dive site and providing some background material about the field, I really did not interact with the two students.  The two dived in the Junkyard and produced a report complete with underwater photographs of the debris.  As I recall, they received an “A” on the report.

Shortly after graduating in 1994, Bill did some wildland fire fighring and joined the Peace Corps and went on assignment to Honduras while I moved to Alabama to teach at Troy University for three years.  We reconnected in 1997 when I moved back to California. After an attempt at US Marine Corps Officer Candidate School, Bill pursued his teaching credential at Cal State Northridge and taught middle school science classes in the Los Angeles Unified School District.  He was engaged to be married. I regret that I lost contact with him just as I was moving to Alaska.  My attempts to locate him once I got settled in Alaska were fuitless. He seems to have vanished off the face of the earth.  He used to tell me about his dream of having a traditional lifestyle in a tropical location.  Maybe he made it.  I like to think he did.