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Next week is the Week Without Driving — a nationwide event in which people take a pledge to avoid getting in cars as much as possible, and to reflect on their experiences. Throughout this week, the Outpost — in conjunction with the Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities — will be bringing you little reports and essays from people who have taken the pledge. How are they doing? We’re going to find out!

But first, to set the stage, I want to tell you about something. And I want to make a modest suggestion.

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It is almost exactly one mile from my house to LoCO HQ.

For well on 10 years, my daily routine was this: I would wake up in the morning; make coffee; feed the dogs; do some morning work; get my kids out the door to school, breakfasted and lunched; do some more morning work; shower; and, usually, eat something.

Then I would get in my car and drive the one mile to work, in Old Town. I would park in the same parking spot, which was one block from our office, every single time. I would work the day. Then, at quitting time, I would do whatever it is I had to do after work – usually, drive up to Arcata to pick up one or the other of my kids at the tail end of one of their afterschool obligations. Then we would drive home.

This year, things changed. My kids had both graduated from school. That meant I had no real need to have my car available to me at the end of my workday. Which meant I had no real need to drive.

Still, it took me a month or two to mentally switch gears. Why was I still driving to work, then driving back home at the end of the day? Why was I burning fossil fuels to perform this simple task? Why was I paying for gas, registration, insurance and upkeep on this stupid one-ton machine that spent most of its day, apart from 10 minutes at either end, stationary, just taking up space?

When I was young, bicycling was one of the great pleasures in life. Living in Willits, I kept two sets of quick-change wheels. One had mountain bike tires and one had “slicks” – perfectly smooth, treadless tires designed for maximum glide. The former were for weekend jaunts up logging roads to the Two Rock lookout, where you could see clear to the coast on a sunny day. The latter were for debauched midnight “drafting” sessions, where we would wait, poised, until a big rig poked its head into town. The trick was to get into its slipstream while it came south down the northern end of Main Street, then pedal like hell as it picked up speed en route to the straightaway on the south end. Do it right and you suddenly found yourself speeding along in top gear at a frictionless 50 miles per hour.

Humans can’t fly, but in my experience there are two things that come close to it – close to a thing that you dream of almost every night, if you’re like me. One is swimming. The other is riding a bicycle.

Still I drove to work.

But then, this summer, my kid’s beater pickup started sounding a bit shaky, as kids’ first vehicles tend to do. I gave him my car, because he needed it more than I did. And rather than spending money to get the pickup in order, I pulled my pandemic bike off the hook in the junk room, got it tuned up and started riding to work.

Reader, it has been amazing. There’s the pleasure communing with the elements, the feeling of the wind on your face twice a day. There are the health benefits of getting your blood pumping a little bit on a regular basis. There is steering, weaving, leaning, pedaling, downshifting, swooping around corners.

Then there is the inarguable fact that riding your bike to work, in Eureka, is just as fast or faster than driving. I cover the mile from the doorstep of my house to the door to our building in five minutes flat – easily faster than doing it in my car, when parking is taken into account. The ride home – mostly uphill – takes eight minutes. I had to start timing myself to fully understand it could be that fast. Even when I’m staring straight at the proof on my phone I can’t quite believe it.

Why did it take me so long to make this change? Why don’t more people do it this way?

I should not be unique. I am not a lithe young buck. Nowadays I am solidly in the wrong half of middle age, and my doctor would tell you that my physical apparatus leaves a lot to be desired. There are thousands of Humboldters who have essentially the same commute that I do, and who are at least as able as me. Most of them are more able still. They could be biking to work. Yet for some reason they are not.

How many? The Census Bureau’s American Community Survey estimates that there are some 51,366 Humboldt County people over the age of 16 who work at a job outside their home. Of those 51,366 people, it estimates that 46,355 – about 90 percent – get to their jobs in a private vehicle. And of those 46,355 people, it estimates that a full 11,499 of them drive less than 10 minutes to get to work.

Here is a map of those people in Eureka alone – Eureka north of Harris, which is in eminently bikeable distance to most of the city’s jobs. Click a census tract for the numbers.

Humboldt County, you may be surprised to learn, has the fifth-lowest commute times in the state. A full 22 percent of us, according to the the Census Bureau’s imperfect but best-available estimates, spend less than 20 minutes a day getting to and from work in our big, hulking, expensive, wasteful, air-polluting machines.

Why do we do that? No doubt some of those 11,499 people are less able than me. Some of them, I’m sure, need their cars to do their jobs. But I’d be willing to wager that the great majority of them are in the same place I was a couple of months ago – just doing it the same way they always did, for reasons they forgot long ago. If you’re one of those people, and especially if you’re one of those people who live in a town that is rapidly upgrading its non-motorized transportation infrastructure, then I urge you to give it a go.

There are three caveats.

One: Last week I pulled a calf muscle hauling my bike up the stairs. This put me back into vehicles for a few days. But then it got better.

Two: This has been summer. What will it be like when it’s raining? Will I brave the wet in rainclothes? Will I fire up my kid’s pickup for the little commute on very rainy days? Will I choose to fall back on pandemic-era privileges and work from home during the worst of the winter storms? I don’t know. It’s to be determined.

Three: Our household has a fallback, which is my wife’s car. We are blessed to have a house with a washer and dryer for the clothes, but there’s no good solution for grocery shopping. I’m not going to swing by the Co-Op or Natty Foods on my bike every night just to pick stuff for dinner. It would be too much – too much time spent shopping, and too much money on basics that would be cheaper elsewhere. I don’t see an easy way to avoid the weekend grocery store run. Also, we are as of yet still too young, my wife and I, to give up the opportunity to just up stakes for a weekend and take a road trip somewhere – a change of scenery for mental health purposes. And we also sometimes have family obligations out of town. I have a solution to each of these – robot taxis for the groceries, cheap and easy rental cars for the road trips – but as of yet society has not caught up to my beautiful vision of the future. One it does, I will happily divest myself of vehicle ownership forever.

So that’s that. I address myself to the people who have something tickling the backs of their brains, something telling them they should be changing up their car-bound lifestyle a bit. Do it! I think you’ll be very happy you did.

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The national Week Without Driving runs from September 29 through October 5, 2025. It is an opportunity for participating public officials and other community members to get first-hand insights into the way many seniors, kids, people with disabilities, low-income people, and other non-drivers navigate our communities. Each day during the week, the Lost Coast Outpost is publishing reflections from local participants. For more information, visit this link.

High-severity wildfires that burn communities are obviously bad. But what about high-severity fire that burns in the backcountry? Guest Dr. Dick Hutto, Emeritus Professor of biology and wildlife biology at the University of Montana and author of the recently published book A Beautifully Burned Forest: Learning to Celebrate Severe Forest Fire, makes the case that high-severity fire has been unfairly demonized and this fire forms an important and transitory habitat type. 

Rethinking high-severity fire has policy consequences. Do we invest as heavily in fire risk reduction for wildlands or is funding better spent in and near communities? Do we invest as heavily in fire suppression where fires are burning far from human habitations? And what do we do after fires burn—do we log and replant or leave it be? Listen to hear Dr. Hutto’s prescriptions.

Want to learn more? Check out Dr. Hutto’s website on fire ecology. 

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Bear River is a small river, twenty-five miles long, threading its way from the foot of Mt. Pierce to the mouth of the river at Capetown. Compared to the Eel River to the north or the Mattole River to the south, Bear River, bordered by privately owned land with no public access, is not as well known or traveled.

From the 1870s to the turn of the century, most of the dairying in the Ferndale area took place at Bear River. One reason for this was that Bear River had available land. The town of Ferndale was essentially bought up when Seth Shaw and Francis Francis each purchased a section of land. That was a total of 320 acres, and that land was planted with crops, such as potatoes and beans.

The tall ferns, for which the town was named, grew to the height of six or seven feet; thus, the land did not lend itself to grazing. The other important reason Bear River was ideal for dairying was the Homestead Act of 1862. A homesteader only had to be the head of a household and at least twenty-one years of age to claim a 160-acre parcel of land. Each homesteader had to live on the land, build a home, make improvements, and farm for five years before they were eligible to “prove up.” A total filing fee of $18 was the only money required.

Access to Bear River is gained by traveling the Wildcat Road. This road begins at the south side of Ferndale where the sign reads “Capetown-Petrolia.” In the Ferndale Enterprise it was reported that

On Monday. April 8, 1884, work started on the building of the Wildcat Road. W.L. Collins, the gentleman awarded the Wildcat Road bid, expects, if nothing happens, to have the road open in six weeks. He employs forty Chinamen and a few white men and intends to push the work while the ground is in good condition.

The Wildcat road remains the dominant access road to Bear River.

Prior to the Wildcat Road being built, the only route to Bear River was from Centerville (west of Ferndale) to Capetown, either via the overland route or on the beach. The solid ground route was by way of Fleener Gulch and Guthrie Creek and finishing up at Oil Creek, which flows along West Point Ridge. The beach route was faster but more dangerous. Knowing the tides was essential, as travelers wanted the sand to be firm and the tide going out. Slippery rocks were exposed, waves could be huge, and there was a bad undertow.

In 1976, retired Ferndale High School teacher Bill Crane wrote a historical novel entitled Franz and the Bear River Horse, or a Swiss Boy Comes to Humboldt. The book was published posthumously by his son. William Crane. Jr. The story tells of the difficulties of taking the beach stage.

At one time they were overwhelmed by a huge breaker and horses and riders were for a considerable time floundering in the seething waters and in imminent danger of being swept to sea.

(The novel is based on the real life of “Franz” — Frank Vogel, who came to the United States from Germany in 1884. with his mother Lena Teichgraber Vogel, to reunite with his father Karl Vogel. They stayed overnight at the hotel run by the Marble family at Capetown and were taken six miles up the river by Mr. Marble’s team of horses, only to find that Karl had been killed by a falling tree at the same time they were traveling from Germany. Lena later married Martin Barbettini, whose ranch was upriver from the Schmidt ranch where Karl had worked. Martin had a dairy and made butter, as did all the dairies at that time.)

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Butter making was the chosen means of making a living because it was the most suitable product for such an isolated area — of utmost importance was that it could be stored until transportation was available. The necessary ingredients were cream, butter kegs, and salt. The dairy cows at Bear River weren’t the typical Jerseys, Holsteins and Guernseys of today. They were a Durham breed, a sturdy red cow that almost resembled beef cattle.

Cows were typically milked in the corrals. Milk was then put in pans to cool and to let the cream rise to the top. A cream skimmer was used and cream went in one bucket, skim milk in the other. Skim milk was often given to the pigs, mixed with grain to make a mash. The cream was churned into butter by a work horse going round and round, turning solid redwood planks that were three feet on the sides with ends approximately thirty inches square. When the cream became butter, the buttermilk was drained off and the butter was placed on a round table that could be spun around to remove as much moisture as possible. Then salt was mixed in as a preservative, just the right amount per pound to keep the butter edible months later.

Isolated dairy ranches had to stock up in fall with enough butter kegs to last until spring. There was a “cooper shop” at Capetown across from the old schoolhouse, as well as one on the way from Capetown to Centerville near Mazeppa Ranch. They made the 25- and 50-pound butter kegs the ranchers would be filling from October of one year to May or June of the next. The kegs were made of spruce and had metal hoops and a lid. Hoops were loosened to fill the kegs to within an inch of the top with butter, the top was placed in its groove, the hoops were tightened, and brine was poured into a three-quarter inch hole in the top. Barrels would have been stored on the coolest site on the ranch. At the Barbettini ranch there was a butter safe in the creek, deep in a grove of pepperwoods, and the cool water ran over it constantly.

From 1870 to 1900 there were as many as twenty-five dairies at Bear River. The Southmayd Ranch is believed to be the first dairy on Bear River, as well as the first house, in 1856. Since the Homestead Act did not take effect until 1862. Southmayd may have been purchased using the Preemption Act, a statute passed in 1841 in response to the demands of the Western states that squatters be allowed to preempt lands. Settlers could stake a claim of 160 acres and after fourteen months of residence purchase it from the government for as little as $1.25 an acre.

John Lewis Southmayd.

John Lewis Southmayd came to Humboldt County in 1853 from New Hampshire. Additional recordings show that he purchased more property adjacent to his original section. His nephew, C.H. Southmayd, had nearby property, and in The History of Northern California of 1891 he’s listed as milking 127 cows on his ranch. J. L. Southmayd married Ella Bartlett, also from New Hampshire, in 1871. He died at age sixty-six from an “ailment of peculiar nature” where his foot was diseased and his lower limb flesh was absorbed by the disease. as related in the Ferndale Enterprise obituary.

East of Southmayd was the Walch ranch, homesteaded in 1865. The original home burned down in 1925 and was re-built the next year. In photographs of the original house, a dairy barn is in the background, and that barn is still standing today. Sanford and Dorian Lowry now own the property. Sanford’s grandfather and grandmother, Robert and Katherine Lowry, homesteaded a ranch just west of Southmayd called the Lowry “Upper Place.” Sanford’s mother and father, Will and Mabel Lowry, had the “Lower Place” at the confluence of the south fork of Bear River and main Bear River when they married in the early 1930s. Part of their house was the original cabin of Knyphausen “Foss” Geer, who had his own dairy in the 1860s. Foss enlisted in the 1st Battalion of Mountaineers, California Volunteers, and became a captain in 1864 at Fort Humboldt. He fought Indians all over Humboldt County and had many battles in the Bear River area, including a clash with the Bear River Indians on the south fork of Bear River at the Russ home. Mountain View,

There were several different owners of the Southmayd Ranch over the years. In the 1920s brothers Sam and Bill Graham bought the ranch. Sam lived on another ranch nearby with his wife Mildred. Bill lived in the house at Southmayd with a mail order bride from the east coast, and her son Blair. Maxine Goff of Ferndale remembers that times were tough in the big cities back East during the depression and women were attracted to the lure of the frontier. But it was lonely and she remembers that Bill’s wife also spent time at an apartment in Ferndale. Bill and his wife attempted to make a living at Southmayd by borrowing money from William Russ to build cabins on the property to be used as “honeymoon cottages.” When this endeavor did not prove lucrative. Bill and his bride lost the ranch. According to Sam’s son Elwood Graham, his father, who worked for the Russ Co. for over sixty years, had wanted to buy the ranch back for himself. But Mr. Russ chose to make it a wedding present for his daughter Viola, and her intended husband Rex McBride. Elwood Graham is still ranching on his parents’ property, past Southmayd, at the foot of Mt. Taylor.

Maxine Goff’s father, George Robinson, had dairy bulls to rent out before the days of artificial insemination. He pastured forty dairy bulls at Sam Graham’s ranch until such time as they were needed back in Arlynda Corners. Sometime in the late 1920s Maxine and her father rode out to Grahams to check on the bulls. She lived at the was in a hurry to be back in town for New Year’s Eve. It was the first time she had ridden in snow and it was “rough goin’.” The horses had their shoes on which collected snow and would build up to four or five inches, making it like being on stilts. If you were lucky the clumps of snow would break away and if not, it was like skiing. She did get back for New Year’s Eve!

Elwood Graham remembers at one time they pastured eighty dairy bulls. His mom insisted on a high picket fence around the house. One time she was trapped in the outhouse, surrounded by bulls. After that her husband built a chute (to hold the bulls in place) and they cut off all their horns.

Another time when Maxine was only ten years old and her sister Letha just eighteen months older their dad sent them to Bear River with “pasture stock” to turn over to Sam Graham. They met Sam up on Bear River Ridge but when they turned back for home it was foggy and they were lost. They would send the dog out but he kept coming back with sheep. They tried to reconnect with Sam but he had already started for home. Finally they made their way to Bonanza Ranch and were able to stay the night. One of the hired help had to ride to Capetown to call their parents regarding their delay. The next day they followed the horseman packing cream out to the Wildcat for the stage. Maxine said she cried all the way, thinking she would never see her parents again. She was just sure the man didn’t know where he was going. Later they thought if they had just given their horses free rein they probably would have led them through the fog safely.

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Although Viola Russ inherited many ranches, Southmayd was always her favorite, and she spent many happy hours there, despite no electricity or phone and being isolated from the world. She and Rex were rearing their three children there in the 1930s when Viola’s father died, and she was left to run all his enterprises. It took her away from her family much of the time and the family was forced to live at ranches closer to town. In later years however, Viola spent much of her time at Southmayd, painting and writing and enjoying leisure life in the country. Because several people had been buried at Southmayd over the years, creating an existing cemetery, Viola was able to have her wish to be buried at Southmayd. The cemetery includes a man, George Eades, who fell off his horse and died while passing through Southmayd in 1882, and a young boy, son of Peter Hansen, who died in 1879 after an accident on the ranch.

Many different employees of the Russ/McBride ranches lived at Southmayd over the years. One was Joe McAlister, who was known to be a good horse handler. Nila Morrison, longtime resident of Bear River, remembers sitting on the porch at Southmayd sipping tea with Nola McAlister while the men sheared sheep down at the barn. Nila’s husband Sid sheared sheep for a living and lived his whole life on the Morrison ranch at Bear River. That ranch was also a dairy at one time, and the shed where the milk cooled is still on the property today. Nila was the teacher at Capetown in the early 1930s, when she met Sid. She is now 97.

After the turn of the century, ranches at Bear River began raising sheep and later beef cattle. Although Southmayd Ranch is now a cattle ranch, it is still owned by the McBride family, and it still has neither a telephone nor electricity.

Henry Moore
August 31, 1938 – August 20, 2025

Henry Moore, 86, of Eureka, passed away peacefully at home on August 20, 2025. Born on August 31, 1938, to Paul and Henrietta Moore, Henry lived his entire life in Eureka. He worked as a timber faller and electrician, and was known as a hardworking, devoted family man.

An avid outdoorsman, Henry enjoyed hunting, fishing, gardening, and tending his beloved rhododendrons and apple orchards. He cherished time with his many lifelong friends, hunting buddies, and lunch companions. A long-time member of the Pentecostal Church in Eureka, Henry’s faith in Christ and love for his church family were central to his life.

Henry is survived by his wife, Frances Moore; sons Richard (Cindy) Moore and David (Shelley) Moore; grandchildren Katie (Matt) Wells, Conan (Donna) Moore, Rhiannon (Jeff) Moore, and Amanda (Michael) Maciel; great-grandchildren Franchesca Lopez, Carly Moore, Sephora Maciel, DaisyLynn Maciel, and Carson Moore; and brother Tom (Jan) Moore.

The family is especially grateful for the loving care provided by Richard and Cindy during Henry’s final months at home on hospice.

He will be remembered for his love of the outdoors, devotion to family, and steadfast faith.

Memorial Service will be held on Friday, October 10, at 3 p.m. at the Wharfinger Building in Eureka.

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The Starbucks location at Fourth and T streets in Eureka, which opened exactly a year ago today, will close permanently at the end of business hours tomorrow, according to employees at the store.

Starbucks recently announced plans to close hundreds of stores across North America, eliminating close to 900 jobs. The Seattle-based company has not disclosed an official list of the stores that will be shuttered, but unionized employees with Starbucks Workers United have helped to assemble a public Google sheet of expected closure locations. As of this writing the sheet has 498 entries, including one for this Starbucks at 1906 Fourth Street in Eureka.

“Yes, it’s true,” said a barista who answered the phone when we called the store this afternoon. The employee, who declined to give her name, said she and her coworkers learned the news yesterday or at the start of their shifts today. Saturday will be the store’s final day open to customers, and Sunday will be employees’ last day on the job, she said.

“We will find out on Sunday whether we’re getting a transfer to another store or a severance package,” the Eureka barista said. She explained that company management will choose the location for any employee transfers, and workers who decline to accept their selected relocation will not receive a severance package.

“I’m telling you [about the closure] because I don’t expect to get a severance package,” she said.

The barista provided the name of her district manager, Vernon Costa, who oversees stores in Humboldt, Mendocino and Trinity Counties. Reached by phone and asked about the pending closure, Costa said, “I can’t make any comments on the location.”

He provided us with a media hotline number. A message left at that number had not been returned by the time this post was published. 

We’re not sure how many locals frequented this freeway-adjacent box of a store, but if you are a huge Starbucks fan, don’t fret: Eureka will still have four Starbucks locations after this weekend:

• 326 Fifth Street,
• 2411 Broadway Street (the new one next to Wing Stop),
• 2555 Harris Street (inside the Safeway, and technically just outside city limits), and
• 2525 Fourth Street (inside Target)

Also, lots and lots of locally owned coffee shops.

PREVIOUSLY

• Fortuna City Council Likely to Pass a Freeze on Mobile Home Rent Increases

A lawyer representing the owners of the Royal Crest Mobile Home park said in a lengthy letter sent to the Fortuna City Council that the upcoming moratorium on mobile home lot rent increases was unnecessary and could lead to “costly and unwanted” litigation.

The attorney, Anthony Rodriguez, said that a rent increase planned for January 1, 2026 was already tied to the Consumer Price Index at 2.49%. Both advocates for the Rent Stabilization Ordinance (RSO) and the owners have agreed that any future raises in rent will be tied to the CPI, though the Save Our Seniors prefer that lot rents only go up 75% of the CPI. 

The moratorium would stop the owners from implementing that January increase unless the RSO is adopted before then. 

Rodriguez also said that the owners have “promised” not to raise the rent again until January 2027, and threatened to ditch a rent credit program for their residents if the moratorium is passed on Monday. 

But one of the main issues facing the park, says Rodriguez, is that the park’s operating costs have increased about 89% since 2013, while the CPI has only increased 37%. He also claims that the owners have invested almost $900,000 into the park’s infrastructure and cited a court case (Sierra Lake Reserve v. City of Rockland) that says that park owners are entitled to make a fair return on their investments. 

“I can assure the Council that these are issues that can result in litigation lasting many years, resulting in unwanted stress and expense for all concerned,” Rodriguez said. “…If the parties are willing to agree to a long-term plan regarding rent increases at Royal Crest, my clients are willing to waive their right to pursue litigation in each of these issues.”

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Local tribal leaders kicked off California Native American Day a little early this year with a Wiyot Brush Dance and ribbon-cutting ceremony on Thursday, celebrating the unveiling of a new cultural archive collection and display case at the Northern California Indian Development Council (NCIDC) office in Old Town Eureka. 

The wooden display cabinet, designed by local architect Kash Boodjeh, showcases handmade basketry, jewelry, ceremonial hats and regalia, quivers made of animal pelts, abalone shells and other cultural items from tribes across the North Coast.

NCIDC Chief Executive Officer Madison Flynn described the new exhibit as “a tribute to the strength and resilience of our communities,” as well as a “reminder that [Native] traditions, languages and stories will continue to thrive in the future.” However, she warned that “celebrating culture is not enough.”

“We are faced with a federal administration that, within the six months since the inauguration, has proposed unprecedented and devastating budget cuts,” Flynn said. “The President’s budget for Fiscal Year 2026 proposes nearly $1 billion in cuts to Indian Country, including more than $700 million in cuts to the Bureau of Indian Affairs and $239 million to tribal housing programs. … At a time when funding for native programs continues to be cut, it is more important than ever to showcase and preserve our traditions.”

She closed with a quote from Wilma Mankiller, a prominent Native activist and the first woman elected to serve as Principal Chief of the Cherokee Nation: “The secret of our success is that we never, never give up.”

NCIDC Chair Trina Mathewson took a moment to honor the legacy of Terry Coltra, who helped shape the NCIDC and advocate for local tribal communities during his 30-plus years as executive director of the organization. 

“This cultural display case was one of his long-time goals,” Mathewson said. “This collection showcases the cultural and historical significance of native basketry and regalia from the North Coast region. It is a reminder of the strength, resilience and beauty of our local tribes. … We dedicate this display to the memory of Terry Coltra and to the leadership of Greg Gehr and Madison Flynn, whose efforts helped bring this vision to life.”

Lonyx Landry, an advisor and coordinator for the Indian Natural Resources, Science & Engineering Program (INRSEP) at Cal Poly Humboldt, added that many of the “living items” in the display case are still used in ceremonies.

“Just recently, we had some of our staff returning from world renewal ceremonies where some of the baskets that you will see got to go dance and live the life that they’re supposed to live,” Landry said. “Now, we have this wonderful home for those items to exist — not locked up in some dark closet for 100 years — and have the life that [they’re] supposed to have, and do the things it’s supposed to do, like dance and ceremony.”

Eureka Mayor Kim Bergel shared a few words as well, expressing her gratitude to the tribal community and underscoring the city’s commitment to “celebrating and honoring Native culture — past, present and future — through restoration of language and ceremony, reparations and through the land back movement.”

After the speakers, a group of Wiyot dancers in ceremonial regalia performed a Brush Dance on the sidewalk in front of the NCIDC. More pictures of Thursday’s ceremony can be found below.

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