Water Towers and Flights of Fancy

Yours truly

As a young girl I was often found perched in the branches of the tree in our backyard, nose in a novel. In winter, I’d be wrapped head-to-toe in one of my mom’s knit afghans, a flashlight inside illuminating the pages of an Agatha Christie mystery. Fast forward many decades and that same girl, now well into mid-life, spends her winters spellbound by her favorite author’s latest gothic novel.

I love to read. After moving to the north coast, it occurred to me that I have lived in places that feed my imagination. Take yesterday for example. After days of gloomy overcast weather, a bright blue sky beckoned me and a friend outside for a walk on the headlands. But the wind! We were nearly blown from the cliffs, and watched as even the hawk nearby was buffeted about while trying valiantly to hone in on its prey. The sea was an artist’s dream: whitecaps dotted the turquoise-colored water while monstrous waves lashed the coast, spraying plumes of water high into the air as they crashed against the rocks. My face nearly frozen, we beat a hasty retreat back to town, but the experience conjured up images of Heathcliff and Catherine wandering the moors in Jane Austen’s Wuthering Heights. Time to go home and curl up with a good book!

Nature’s beauty aside, there’s something else special here that induces a bit of literary fever in me: the water towers.  These 19^th century towering redwood structures spark curiosity in visitors, pride in historians, creativity in artists, and fantasies in dreamers like me. Drive or walk around either Fort Bragg or Mendocino and you’ll see plenty of them, often of varying architectural design and adornment. Built during the logging heyday to provide water to homes and businesses, they were accompanied by windmills that would pump groundwater up to the water tank, which was perched on a platform at the top (which needed to be high enough to ensure gravity provided enough pressure to move it where it was needed).

About a third of Mendocino’s original water towers (the town boasted ninety at one point) are still standing, while most of Fort Braggs' are gone. While some are still in use, many have been converted to vacation rentals or artists’ studios. I’m sharing a few of my favorites, along with the literary association they inspire in me.

Weller House tower

The Weller House  (Fort Bragg). Built in 1886 to supply water to the adjoining mansion (listed on the National Register of Historic Places; it is now a B&B). The water tower overlooks the ocean and the town, claiming to be the tallest structure in Mendocino County. They rent rooms in the tower (it has been rebuilt so it is structurally sound) and I can’t think of a better place to curl up and read a gothic novel that takes place in a spooky old house. Try a classic like Rebecca by Daphne de Maurier or for something by a contemporary writer, The Clockmaker’s Daughter by Kate Morton. The Weller House even rents water tower rooms for extended stays, perfect for writers!

John Doughtery House carving on tower

John Dougherty House (Mendocino). The first time I walked past this water tower and saw the carving of a stern-looking woman on the front, I blurted out “why, it’s Bertha Rochester!” Fans of Charlotte Bronte’s Jane Eyre will remember the novel’s big reveal: that Jane’s beloved Rochester was keeping his crazy wife up in the attic. He didn’t tell Jane of course, so Bertha would appear mysteriously in the window, scaring the metaphorical pants off of Jane. (Another great novel by Jane Rhys, Wild Sargasso Sea, explores Bertha’s story from a feminist perspective and paints her as a sympathetic character.) I, of course, am only projecting my Bertha onto this water tower, I do not know what beloved family member of the Dougherty’s is memorialized in this carving.

Simpson Lane Tower (Fort Bragg). I pass this dilapidated tower on my way home every day and will be saddened when it finally falls. The pine tree growing out of the tower’s platform never fails to make me smile, and puts me in mind of my favorite childhood book (in photo at top), The Secret Garden, where beauty blossoms amidst chaos. It’s about three-quarters of a mile east on Simpson, on the left.

Jade’s Tower (Mendocino). Clearly renovated by artists, this gorgeous tower with its windows, whimsical water vane, and hidden garden enchant passerby and lodgers alike. With its stunning views and tranquil setting…wait, why aren’t I writing this blog post from that tower?! If you’ve ever read Virginia Woolf’sA Room of One’s Own--this would be that room. “A woman must have money and a room of her own if she is to write fiction.” Woolf argues that had women been given the same social and economic freedom as men, their creative output would be voluminous (illustrated wonderfully in a made-up story about Shakespeare’s sister who dies young from poverty and domestic drudgery). Published in 1929, Woolf imagined that in one hundred years things would be different for women writers.

Jade Tower

As we approach that remarkable anniversary, I think she might be heartened by how many female authors are published today, but also dismayed by the economic disparity between women and men that still exists. But that is a topic for another time. (I must confess a secret that would do Woolf proud. On the day of my windy walk I volunteered to do inventory at the local bookstore. After we finished counting, we straightened the books on their shelves and I got to choose which books to face out on the display stands in my sections. I chose all women authors. Heeheehee)

So hopefully I have enticed you do a little water-tower fantasizing of your own. Better yet, come stay in one and pick up a good book at the best independent bookshop, Gallery Bookshop to read while you are there. I invite you to experience the beautiful coast water towers as a wonderful refuge, much like that tree I sat in, or that afghan that warmed me (thanks mom!).

Pygmy Forest: Tower Over Tiny Trees

I love lichen!

In this ancient, pint-sized forest you’ll find 80-year old trees with trunks that are just an inch in diameter. Anyone with an appreciation for nature will marvel over the unique ecology of the pygmy forest. Think of it as a natural-bonsai!

When you meander through the pygmy forest, you’ll discover Mendocino cypress, Bishop pine, and Bolander pine trees not much taller than humans; the same trees that just a half mile away grow upwards of 100 feet. Rodents and lizards dart in and out of the dwarf huckleberries, manzanita, Labrador tea, and rhododendrons. Look for the rare, centuries-old  “Reindeer Lichen,” which helps prevent erosion and run-off.

The pygmy forest only occurs along a thin strip of land about two miles inland from the coast, on the higher of the wave cut terraces formed during the ice age and pushed upwards by shifting tectonic plates. Each terrace is about 100,000 years old! The soil on the pygmy terrace is so acidic and nutrient-deprived it hardens like concrete so very little can survive in it. Just underneath the top soil is a rock-like layer called “hardpan” that is difficult for roots to penetrate, so the plants that do thrive here are severely stunted, despite being perfectly healthy. (One old settler tells of trying to dig his well and only getting down 2 ft after laboring four days and breaking countless tools).

During heavy rains the forest turns into a swamp because the drainage is poor, but a visit after a storm is other-worldly! Eerie, unsettling, twisted—those are just some of the words folks use to describe the pygmy forest. Remember Snow White’s frightful run through a menacing forest? Walt Disney wanted to landscape (in miniature) his Snow White Ride at Disneyland with trees that would evoke that feeling, so he sent his crew up here in 1958 to bring back a dwarf pine. Ironically, it thrived in healthy soil and grew to be 10 stories tall.

The two most visitor-friendly pygmy sites listed here have wooden boardwalks and interpretive signs. The boardwalks help keep you above the puddles in the rain and also protect the fragile forest floor.

Jughandle State Reserve

Pick up an interpretive pamphlet just off the parking lot, which explains the flora and fauna on the 2 mile hike through the ecological staircase (an excellent explanation of the wave-formed terraces mentioned above). You end up at the pygmy forest, after emerging from the towering redwoods on the terrace just before it. A magnificent study in contrasts.

Pygmy Forest Discovery Trail at Van Damme State Park 

For those with limited mobility, or if you’re short on time, there is a parking lot just off this trail, which is accessible from Little River Road. The trail takes 30 minutes. It is also accessible from Van Damme State Park, at the end of a 4 mile trail from the campground by the beach.