Home of the Barbarians

About 100 miles/160 km north of Los Angeles but really more like a million miles sits my little village.

OK, not quite a village. But Santa Barbarians have carved a special emotional space that transcends its size.

Santa Barbara rejects the spreading urban philosophy, crowns the pedestrian. In spite of pious statements, however, upscale housing and hotel developments are rarely turned down. If we have to build, why not build exclusively for the benefit of the well off? With home prices severely beyond the reasonable, the worsening inequalities do not deter our society from its primary aim.
Don’t expect a radical approach to the problems that plague our society, even in this enlightened sphere.

“Let them eat cake,” advocated a famous queen to relieve hunger. She didn’t last too long after this insightful remark.

Santa Barbara is a great place to wait for the revolution that will never come. The town’s attributes are well known and I won’t trouble you with them.

Instead, here are a few photos of my favorite hangouts. Missing is downtown’s State Street, the hub of commercial activities – at least the ones I seek. I ignored the restaurants, bookstores, shops, coffee houses, in favor of the town’s bookends: the beaches and the mountains.

I am a man of sand and dirt. I would add snow to the list if only we had some! I would include water (as warm snow, perhaps) if the Pacific were indeed warm enough to warrant continued splashing. Until this past summer, and despite living for nearly 20 years within blocks of the ocean, I had seldom ventured in the frigid waters. Most folks here exult happiness at the thought of swimming in – at best - 68°F/20°C water.

It is invigorating, refreshing after a hot day.

It is freezing cold, I say!

Funny how we adore our Mediterranean climate and gloss over the fact that sea is much warmer than ours. Don’t get me started about our fog, the bane of summer in my opinion, a delightfully romantic weather event to many. Local wisdom dictates it is a June phenomenon, dubbed June gloom, when sea and air temperatures coincide in a murky mess. Overcast days stretch way, way into summer.

But I have rediscovered the beach, sans wet or dry suit for the moment.

Year-round, I can be spotted at the water’s edge or at the sky’s limit.

Aerial view from the Mesa neighborhood to downtown and the Santa Ynez foothills.

The harbor with the Santa Ynez mountains in the background.

Above Ratttlesnake Canyon.

Approaching the eucalyptus trees landmark on the Cold Springs trail, halfway to Camino Cielo, the mountain's ridgetop.

Ceonathus is the dominant brush in the mountains' chapparal. It blooms in late winter after the winter rains with white or blue flowers.

A seasonal and rare waterfall in a side canyon of the Rattlesnake drainage.

Montecito foothills.

Winter sunset over Santa Cruz island.

Henry's Beach, officially named Arroyo Burro, below the Wilcox Property.

Bluff top trail on the Wilcox Property, one of four large oceanfront tract that has been saved from development. Since actors Kirk and Michael Douglas put some money toward its preservation, it now goes by the gentle name of Douglas Family Preserve.

Santa Claus Beach, with Moorish-looking building in background.

Biker amidst mustard plants at Ellwood, another of the preserved properties.

Butterfly Beach.

Tidepools near UCSB's Coal Oil Point Beach.

Summerland Beach.


The Santa Ynez River, on the backside of the eponymous mountains.

Can you see me? Summer is a popular time to go dipping in the river when tempertures routinely exceed 90°F/32°C . There are deep pools suitable for diving from nearby sandstone boulders.