Under a low, heavy sky threatening sleet or snow, State Route 36 twists and turns along tree-topped ridges. In many spots, there’s no guardrail — just a spit of dirt between a driver and a thousand-foot drop.

This is a county where people are expected to take care of themselves, and in the last month, Tehama County itself has been operating without its own guardrail: Outgoing Sheriff Dave Hencratt said last month that deputies would no longer patrol during the day.

“This added reduction of services is necessary to manage a catastrophic staffing shortage throughout the agency,” Hencratt said in a Nov. 8 press release.

On a recent December morning, lots of people’s faces hung low and heavy as the clouds.

The sheriff frowned when he met a reporter at midday on the edge of his property, dressed in barn clothes, declining to comment. The county administrator frowned because the sheriff’s abrupt decision threw his office into chaos. The tavern owner frowned because he works 23 miles outside of town and hasn’t seen a patrol car in weeks. The elected leaders, the motel owners, the rural residents left to their own devices — everyone, it seems, in this stretch of land between national forests, is unhappy with the circumstances, and they each have a different idea for how to solve it.

Some gave up on the sheriff’s office a long time ago.

“When we called 911 even before they stopped patrolling, they’d say ‘Sorry, we can’t make it, handle it yourself,’ ” said Catherine Gasper of the tiny town of Mineral. “That’s not what someone wants to hear when you’re getting beat up. But most people are armed up here, so we don’t worry too much.”

Low pay and a higher bar

The decision to end daytime patrols — which generated sensational headlines and coverage from tabloids in New York City and London for a county whose entire population could fit inside Levi’s Stadium — was rooted in twin problems plaguing law enforcement across California and the country: There aren’t enough qualified new recruits to fill open positions, and a small, rural sheriff’s department like the one in Tehama County doesn’t pay its deputies enough to keep them long.

The state, meanwhile, isn’t making it any easier to hire police officers — particularly those who leave larger departments with shoddy disciplinary or criminal records and find employment at smaller organizations. New laws have raised the minimum hiring age of law enforcement officers to 21 and require the community college system to create a “modern policing” degree program by 2025, laying the groundwork for a statewide officer education minimum.

In Tehama County, tensions had been building for months, if not years. Hencratt told the Red Bluff Daily News in February that other law enforcement departments were treating his office like a “supermarket of employees.”

“When (the) Redding Police Department says, ‘You know what chief, we’re down officers,’ ‘Well go down to Tehama County, go down the officer aisle and pick some,’ and that’s what they do. They’re cherry picking our people,” Hencratt told the newspaper.

Tehama County usually makes its hires from newly graduated applicants, said Tehama County Administrator Gabriel Hydrick. Since the county pays so poorly — about 22% below market rate, according to a county-commissioned compensation study from August — the new recruits don’t stay long. The police department in the county seat of Red Bluff pays better, and law enforcement in the nearby city of Redding and surrounding Shasta County both offer higher salaries and hiring bonuses of several thousand dollars.

The system operated well for decades: Sheriff’s deputies left for higher-paying jobs, and their roles were filled by new recruits. But the labor market is tight and policing isn’t what it once was. Scores of incidents filmed on cell phones across the country have revealed the casual brutality of so-called bad apple cops, which legislators and civil liberties advocates argue drives potentially qualified applicants away from policing. Applications for policing are down, according to the Commission on Police Officer Standards and Training. Fewer applicants means smaller graduating classes. Their absences show up first in places like Tehama County.

Since 2012, the Commission on Police Officer Standards and Training, or POST, has certified on average about 3,200 officers each year. A basic certificate means that the applicant passed both the POST academy and a field training program, then completed a probationary period at the agency that employs them. The entire process takes about two years.

In 2022, however, the agency issued just 2,424 basic certificates as of Dec. 13, the lowest number of basic certificates issued since 2013, and well below the 10-year high of 4,530 issued in 2020.

“I would agree that it’s harder to be a police officer now than (in years past),” said Hydrick, the county administrator. “There’s a lot of disincentives to being an officer. The culture isn’t behind you anymore. We have more laws about policing and being a police officer than other states.”

But Hydrick also blames the working attitudes of the new generation making up the youngest ranks of law enforcement — or, in this case, not making up that new generation.

“We can keep throwing money at it, but if there’s a generation that’s not willing to work or apply for jobs, the money’s not going to fix that,” Hydrick said. “The younger generation wants to be gamers and YouTubers; maybe they cobble an income together from being an Uber driver.

“We’re not seeing people want to become professionals anymore.”

Is it time to increase police funding in small counties?

One of the architects of California’s push for tougher regulations on police and policing is Assemblymember Reggie Jones-Sawyer, a Los Angeles Democrat and chair of the Assembly Public Safety Committee. He said he doesn’t see a conflict between police hiring problems and the state’s stronger hand in hiring officers and the practice of policing.

“It’s almost like, if you’re saying the regulations are too stringent, you’re saying we can’t get people who are not racist, who do not want to brutalize people of color,” Jones-Sawyer said. “We’re not the ones making police officers look bad. It’s the bad police officers who are discouraging the good ones from applying.”

“We probably do need to look at subsidizing smaller police departments so they can level the playing field.”
— Assemblymember Reggie Jones-Sawyer, chair, Assembly Public Safety Committee

But Sawyer-Jones said it may be time to consider having the state send money to the smallest departments, like the one in Tehama County, to make sure they can afford to pay competitive rates.

“We probably do need to look at subsidizing smaller police departments so they can level the playing field,” he said.

The Tehama County Sheriff’s Office didn’t respond to dozens of emails and phone calls seeking comment. Hencratt, the sheriff whose term is expiring in January, did not return calls, and told a CalMatters reporter who approached his property that a press release would be the extent of his comments.

“Over the past decade, police lobbying organizations have said that any measure that increases transparency or accountability for officers will either increase crime or make people not want to be police,” said Peter Bibring, senior counsel at the American Civil Liberties Union of Southern California.

“They said that about the measure to strengthen the ban on racial profiling in 2015, about the transparency over disciplinary records, changes to use of force law. So this is just, you know, the latest.”

But, Bibring said, those portents of doom haven’t come to pass. If law enforcement agencies are having trouble recruiting a new generation, he said, they should probably look to the misconduct within their own ranks.

Lasting shortages

Police departments nationwide are calling for more officers, but in the smallest offices covering the largest geographic areas, the situation is more dire. In Shasta County, north of Tehama County, the sheriff’s office closed one level of the jail and blamed a lack of deputies. Sacramento has had a police officer shortage since the Great Recession 15 years ago, and in Los Angeles, the police department has no staffing problem, and is instead requesting more helicopters.

It’s not like policing pays badly in California — sometimes the opposite. At the opposite end of the spectrum, a Beverly Hills assistant police chief earned $716,284 in total compensation in 2021, making him the highest-paid municipal employee in the state. But Tehama County is no Beverly Hills: The entire county drew less than one-half the revenue that Beverly HIlls did in the 2020-21 fiscal year, the latest year for which numbers were available

One recruiter who works with police departments said that law enforcement has been slow to change its recruiting practices, and that’s reflected in the smaller number of people joining the profession.

“This isn’t 1997,” said Epic Recruiting CEO Sam Blonder. “You’re not going to get 1,000 people signing up for the (policing exam).”

The issue isn’t just pay, Blonder said, citing research showing that the newest generation of recruits looks for work-life balance ahead of pure compensation. But policing’s issues also extend to intransigence among the old guard. His work to recruit new officers, Blonder said, is as much about convincing police brass to do the recruiting.

“Among command staff there’s this attitude that I shouldn’t have to do this,” Blonder said. “Ask 150 high school kids who wants to be a police officer — you won’t get one that will raise their hand. It’s not for me to say why that’s happened, but sometimes an industry needs a shakeup like that.”

That shakeup is happening in real time in Tehama County.

“People have expressed to me fear and concern based on the lack of the daytime sheriff’s office patrol,” said Tehama County District Attorney Matt Rogers. “Simply put, if they pick up the phone and dial 911, is someone going to come?”

“Ask 150 high school kids who wants to be a police officer — you won’t get one that will raise their hand.”
— Sam Blonder, CEO, Epic Recruiting

Any Tehama County officials wishing for tax hikes to generate more county revenue watched those hopes fizzle in March 2020, when voters rejected the county’s 1-cent sales tax increase. And it didn’t just fail, it was crushed, 84% to 16%.

Tehama County is also setting aside money for about 30 vacant sheriff’s office jobs, eight of them for deputies and 13 for deputies in the county jail. Hydrick, the county administrator, said the sheriff’s hope was to eventually fill those positions and restore the sheriff’s office to its 2017 size of approximately 84 deputies.

But in the meantime, all of those vacant positions “encumber,” or put a hold on, the salaries those positions would be paid. That, Hydrick said, amounts to about $3 million each year in unused money by the sheriff’s office, which then reverts to the county’s general fund.

In place of the absent deputies will be the California Highway Patrol, which has 14 officers for the 15-county region that encompasses Tehama County.

“Since Nov. 20, the CHP has received numerous requests for assistance (from residents) to calls in Tehama County that don’t include their usual duties,” California Highway Patrol spokesperson John Crouch said in an email.

Butte County Sheriff Kory Honea, whose county borders Tehama and whose office pays more, said background checks are as much an obstacle to making new hires as the recruiting process is.

“It’s a challenge to find people you would want to entrust with the authority to carry firearms,” said Honea, who is also president of the California State Sheriffs’ Association.

Honea said his office tries to focus on retaining the people they already have by offering free gym memberships and yoga classes.

“I would hope I’m never in a position in Butte County to make that decision (to end daytime patrols),” Honea said. “I would exhaust other options before I did that.”

For some longtime residents like Tehama County Supervisor Bill Moule, the end of daytime patrols is a return to the county’s past.

“I moved to this county in 1978, and the first question I asked was, ‘What kind of service do you have in the rural areas?’” Moule said. “The sheriff was kinda this big guy, been sheriff a long time. He looked at me and said, ‘Son, get yourself a shotgun and a dog.’

“It’s no different today than it was in 1978.”

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CalMatters.org is a nonprofit, nonpartisan media venture explaining California policies and politics.

Tim Hales passed away in his garden on Saturday, Nov. 26, just days after enjoying a final Thanksgiving with his daughter Sadie and her family. He had come back from cancer twice and was living with a large number of ailments in his final years.

Tim was a tall, gentle and gracious man who lived a rich and varied life. He loved to tease and was quick to laugh. He was devoted to his daughters and his grandsons. After the pandemic, living with his daughter Violet, Tim became a fixture around Henderson Center, popping into the hardware store or the pet shop or the bike shop whenever he found an excuse to do so. He had an endless number of projects and hobbies in his final months, and was working on a bonsai tree when he died. He was looking forward to Christmas.

Tim was born and grew up in Redlands, California, among the orange groves. As a young boy he had rheumatic fever and was bed-bound for a full year. He spoke of this time as shaping his character — reading, making “space ships” from boxes and enjoying the newly bought television and the care from his loving mother, Mary Alice Hales. Later in his youth, he learned ballroom dancing and attended regular dances. He played basketball, surfed, ran track and tooled around the Inland Empire on motorcycles with his friends. From the age of 12 he worked in his parents’ furniture store. When he got his driver’s license his father bought him a cherry red MGB, and he loved that car from then on. In recent days he even had a plan to revive the shell and turn it into an electric car.

From Redlands, Tim attended Oregon State and graduated from UC Santa Barbara with a degree in mechanical engineering. He was offered a teacher’s assistant position and a scholarship for a master’s degree at MIT, but because of the Vietnam War he instead accepted a job as an engineer for the United States Navy. He was part of a team that developed a fluid to make submarines move faster through the water, and his name is on a patent for the invention.

At the Navy, he met Madeleine Claire Shepard, the love of his life. They were soon married and had their first child, Jennifer Robin Hales. Looking to escape Southern California, they renovated an old delivery van — “The Silver Bullet” — and took it across the country for a year, looking for property to buy. After their journeys, and following a lead from one of their Navy friends, Eric Swanson, they brought their dear friends Cynthia DeWolf and James DeWolf and their children Nicky and Heather to Branscomb, a rural community between Laytonville and the coast. They bought 40 acres, and the two families camped while they built their houses.

Tim and Madeleine had two more daughters, Violet Pearl Hales and Sadie Willow Hales. The children grew up in the cabin that Tim built there, with lofts for bedrooms and a growing redwood forest around them, in the mountains near the South Fork of the Eel.

Tim took various jobs working as a mechanical engineer for small companies around northern Mendocino County. He also split and sold shingles, worked carpentry jobs and did a stint on green chain at Branscomb’s Harwood Mill. It being the 1970s, Tim was part of the original “mom and pop” cannabis movement. Tim always claimed that he was part of the first crew of people who ever thought to name a cannabis strain “Kush.”

Tim enjoyed playing the soprano recorder and jamming with his wife and friends, reading and discussing philosophy, hiking, and caring for animals. His motto in life was “Never Hurry, Never Worry.” He was a champion for the trees, and encouraged others to stop and watch the redwoods grow.

His last wishes were focused on making others happy. He encouraged his daughters to go after their dreams. He bought a three-wheeled bicycle, adorned it with Christmas lights and made plans to dress as Santa and hand out presents to the neighborhood children. He was raised to give and show care for others. He carried this throughout his life to his last days.

Tim was preceded in death by his father, Lawrence Hales, his mother, Mary Alice Hales, his brother, Craig Hales, and his wife, Madeleine Hales.

He is survived by his daughters and their families: Jennifer Hales and her spouse Hank Sims, and their sons Maxwell Sims and Levi Sims; Violet Hales and her spouse Maral Attallah, and their son Kaijah Ramus-Hales; and Sadie Hales and her spouse Trevor Guthrie, and their sons Sylvester Hales and Milo Hales. He is also survived by his sisters: Margaret Threadgill and her spouse Jim Threadgill of Carlsbad, Calif., and their children Natalie, Tim and Elizabeth; and Laura Entzminger and her spouse Rich Entzminger of Redlands.

The family would like to thank all the doctors and nurses who worked with Tim over the last few years, giving us the gift of more time with him.

There will be a celebration of Tim’s life at the Branscomb property in the summer. He will be laid to rest there in early January.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Tim Hales’ loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here. Email news@lostcoastoutpost.com.

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PREVIOUSLY: Entrepreneurs Unveil Plans to Convert Former Sierra Pacific Mill Into a Cannabis Compound With Eight Acres of Cultivation

# # #

At Tuesday’s meeting of the Humboldt County Board of Supervisors, Wiyot Tribal leaders stood firm in defense of their right to protect tribal cultural resources, even if it spells doom for a planned cannabis production and distribution compound at the former Sierra Pacific lumber mill site near Mad River Slough.

For close to two years now, a group of out-of-town investors — organized as Humboldt Bay Company, LLC — has been working to develop the vacant 70-acre industrial parcel into a commercial cannabis operation featuring more than seven acres of indoor cultivation space alongside facilities for distribution, manufacturing and more.

However, the project area, on the banks of Humboldt Bay, sits atop a Wiyot village site that was likely destroyed during construction of the mill, according to a county staff report. The three tribes with ancestral territory covering the area — the Wiyot Tribe, the Bear River Band of the Rohnerville Rancheria and the Blue Lake Rancheria — initially just asked for a tribal monitor to be on hand during construction, with specific protocols to follow should something of cultural significance be discovered.

During the project’s environmental review, however, county staffers in the Planning and Building Department embarked on more formal consultation with the local tribes, as required by the California Environmental Quality Act and Assembly Bill 52. In response to this outreach, the Bear River Band sent the county a letter expressing full support for the project. The Blue Lake Rancheria took no position. But the Wiyot Tribe took a stand.

In August, the Wiyot Tribal Council officially declared the site a Tribal Cultural Resource. Because the county’s Commercial Cannabis Land Use Ordinance (CCLUO) requires a 600-foot setback from such resources, this represented a major roadblock for the development — perhaps even a deal-breaker.

The project backers didn’t give up, though. At today’s hearing they asked the Board of Supervisors to let the project go forward despite the Wiyot Tribe’s objections. 

Planning and Building Director John Ford explained the situation to the board, noting that the county’s commercial cannabis ordinance doesn’t have any provision to resolve such a dispute — that is, when two tribes don’t object to a project but a third one does.

Ford’s own reading of the ordinance was clear, though: He told the board that the “black and white” of it says that if a tribe identifies a cultural resource — and “it doesn’t matter if it’s one of three [tribes]” — then the resource “needs to be protected and respected.”

“So, can anything else be built on the site,” First District Supervisor Rex Bohn asked. “Like, could they go back to a sawmill that was there for 74 years?”

Ford explained that while there’s leeway in state environmental law to override such environmental impacts, the county’s cannabis ordinance offers no such wiggle room.

“So it’s not an absolute prohibition on anything other than cannabis,” Ford said.

Wiyot Tribe Chair and Cultural Director Ted Hernandez addressed the board, saying the tribe doesn’t really know what’s buried under the property’s thick layer of cement. In the early 1900s, “everything was bulldozed into the slough,” he said, though he added that there may still be gravesites out there. 

He also suggested that the Wiyot Tribe’s position can’t be superseded by those of other area tribes. 

“Let me be frank,” he said. “This is Wiyot territory. This is Wiyot ancestral territory; it states in our constitution where our tribal boundaries lie. And I know Bear River is our cousin tribe … and we do recognize that they have Wiyot descendants in their tribe. But once you leave the Wiyot Tribe, you don’t speak for the Wiyot Tribe.”

He said the village site was also a ceremonial site because anytime a resident was sick or died, fellow tribe members would hold ceremonies in his or her house.

“And this is why we have to protect it,” Hernandez said. “We weren’t able to protect this site in the early 1900s when it was destroyed, but now we’re able to.”

Bohn took issue with the timing of this stance. “Working forward, there’s gotta be a better way we can do this,” he said, noting that the Wiyot Tribe had “basically agreed” with other tribes back in October of 2021, when all three tribes asked merely for a tribal monitor to be onsite during construction.

Bohn said this earlier communication — which, according to Ford, was never meant to be released publicly or interpreted as formal approval — put the applicants at ease, convincing them that it was safe to invest more money. 

Hernandez responded that the tribe was merely following the terms of the ordinance created by the county. He later added that tribal historic preservation officers “don’t make decisions for our tribe.” That authority lies solely with the tribal council.

Bohn again searched for wiggle room, asking Hernandez if the tribe would be willing to reduce the 600-foot setback.

Hernandez said that if the applicants really want to find out what’s on the property, they’d need to tear up the concrete and conduct a full archeological survey. 

John D. McGinnis, at-large tribal council member with the Bear River Band, said his tribe doesn’t consider the site a tribal cultural resource because it’s inaccessible, buried beneath “a couple million cubic feet” of concrete. He also challenged Hernandez a bit, saying “Wiyot land” shouldn’t be interpreted to mean it’s only the Wiyot Tribe’s concern.

“When we talk about Wiyot land, it is all three tribes,” he said, adding that he sees the cannabis project as “a massive opportunity for the county.”

Robert Marshall, the CEO of Humboldt Bay Company’s parent corporation, Victorum, stood at the lectern next with a couple of his fellow executives and told the board that while they didn’t have any formal agreement with Hernandez or the Wiyot Tribe, they were nonetheless “very confused” by this latest development.

They’d paid for an archeological study that found no cultural or archeological resources of any significance, “so in our mind, we were moving forward,” Marshall said. They met with Wiyot tribal council members “hat in hand” and asked what they needed to do, he said.

“This is a passion project for us,” he continued. “This is not just about cannabis. This is about coming in and building a world class, long-term model of the industry.”

Property owner Jeff Meyer also addressed the board, expressing deep frustration with the situation. He referenced the county’s earlier communication with tribes and the archeological study that found no resources.

“They found nothing significant on that property and it was signed off on by all three tribes,” Meyer said. “Done deal. Why are we here? … [The investors] spent up to half a million dollars on this process that the county allowed them to proceed with, and then all of a sudden, for some reason, they asked the tribe again for approval. It was already approved! We have it written. This is a done deal.”

Meyer said he worries about the precedent this sets for future developments. 

“The way I understand now, every piece of property I buy could have this tribal influence on it and it’s a shut-down project,” he said. 

Meyer acknowledged that there were once two Wiyot villages on the property but said this project wouldn’t negatively impact any artifacts.

“One of [the village sites] is on the north end of 30 acres that can never be used [and would be] turned into a wonderful park. If they find artifacts on it? Wonderful. The other is under three feet of asphalt that’s been rolled over for the last 60 years, and they’re not going to disturb that land,” he said.

Ford reiterated that the three tribes’ earlier request for a survey and site monitor didn’t represent “approval” of the project.

Fifth District Supervisor Steve Madrone said, “I think these kinds of issues will continue to come up over time because of unclear boundaries between rancherias and tribes and the assertion about who has ancestral rights. … . I don’t know what the solution is there, but I doubt this will be the last time this comes up.”

During the public comment period, Wiyot Tribe member and tribal council secretary Marnie Atkins said the division of Wiyot people’s family and land into separate tribes with distinct territories “is a direct result of colonization and genocide inflicted upon Soulatluk people,” a reference to Wiyot language.

The issue before the board is also a product of that history, she said.

“Our ancestral homelands range from Plhut Gasamuli’m (Little River) in the north to Tsakiyuwit (Bear River Ridge) in the south, from Shou’r (Pacific Ocean) in the west to the first set of Qus (hills/mountains) to the east. Waterways in the ancestral lands of Wiyot people include Baduwa’t (Mad River), Hikshari‘ (Elk River), Wiya’t (Eel River), Girrughurralilh (Van Duzen River) and Wigi (Humboldt Bay).”

As stewards of those ancestral lands, she said, “protecting our traditional cultural resources is one of our most sacred tasks.” Atkins asked the board to consider how’d they’d feel about having a concrete cap put atop Sunset Memorial Cemetery or Ocean View Cemetery.

“I’d like to argue that just because you cannot see a burial [site] or recognize a sacred site does not mean that it does not exist,” Atkins said, and she urged the county to meet with a tribal government and develop a permitting process that considers the federal and state laws protecting such tribal cultural resources.

After the public comment period, Second District Supervisor Michelle Bushnell asked Hernandez if there was any room for negotiations with the tribal council. Bohn asked the same thing, in different words, saying, “It’s not just this project I’m concerned about.”

Hernandez again said the tribe merely followed the methodology of the county’s cannabis ordinance, and he suggested that county staff re-engage with tribes to create a new one or modify the existing one.

“For me it’s pretty simple,” Third District Supervisor Mike Wilson said. “I think that the staff’s interpretation of the ordinance is correct.” In other words, he agreed that there was nothing the board could do but accept the Wiyot Tribe’s decision.

Wilson added that the board could theoretically direct planning staff to reevaluate the existing cannabis ordinance and modify its tribal consultation process, but he worried about further burdening staff given the extensive backlog of work on their plates.

The board debated what to do next — form a new cannabis ad hoc committee? Direct staff to work on new cannabis ordinance amendments? Or simply accept staff’s recommendation and leave it at that?

Bushnell wound up making a motion to do the latter, formally accepting the Wiyot Tribe’s determination that the site is a tribal cultural resource. By all appearances, this effectively kills the planned cannabis facility at the old mill site. The board passed the motion via a 4-1 vote, with Bohn dissenting. 

In a separate motion, passed unanimously, the board directed staff to come back at a future meeting with a “comprehensive set of issues” to be addressed under the CCLUO, along with an item to discuss the possible formation of a cannabis ad hoc committee.

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For the last two months, a group of 25 community members has worked with the City of Eureka to determine how the city should spend a $75,000 chunk of this year’s budget. The group has boiled its recommendations down to two areas of concern: traffic safety and alternative housing. 

The process, known as participatory budgeting, gives members of the public an opportunity to determine how public funds ought to be spent. In this case, the group of Eureka residents will make recommendations on how to best spend $15,000 on small community-improving projects in each of the city’s wards. 

During the final participatory budgeting session on Thursday, the group will consider several project proposals from city staff and offer their recommendations. They will also enjoy refreshments and a couple slices of pizza, I’m told.

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Here’s the press release from the City of Eureka:

On October 25th, the City of Eureka launched a process known as participatory budgeting in which community members participate in prioritizing how to spend $75,000 allocated by the Council during the City’s budget process. Participatory Budgeting (PB) is a democratic process in which community members directly decide how to spend a portion of a public budget.

A group of 25 community members have attended two PB meetings and developed a list of projects/programs to be considered for prioritization and implementation. The desired projects/programs have been narrowed to two areas of concern, traffic safety and alternative housing.

At the final meeting on December 15th at 5:30 p.m. at the Wharfinger Building, programs and projects will be presented at a public meeting. Community members will be able to provide input and make recommendations. Pizza and refreshments will be provided.

Information is also available on the City’s Website at www.eurekaca.gov

Document: Participatory Budget Guidelines

Press release from the National Weather Service office on Woodley Island:

Do you ever wonder how much rainfall you received from a recent thunderstorm? How about snowfall during a winter storm? If so, an important volunteer weather observing program needs your help! The Community Collaborative Rain, Hail, and Snow network, or CoCoRaHS, is looking for new volunteers across northwest California. This grassroots effort is part of a growing national network of home-based and amateur rain spotters with a goal of providing a high density precipitation network that will supplement existing observations.

CoCoRaHS came about as a result of a devastating flash flood that hit Fort Collins, Colorado, in July 1997. A local severe thunderstorm dumped over a foot of rain in several hours while other portions of the city had only modest rainfall. The ensuing flood caught many by surprise and caused $200 million in damages.

A CoCORaHS rain gauge. Famartin, CC BY-SA 4.0, via Wikimedia Commons

CoCoRaHS was born in 1998 with the intent of doing a better job of mapping and reporting intense storms. As more volunteers participated, rain, hail, and snow maps were produced for every storm showing fascinating local patterns that were of great interest to scientists and the public. Recently, drought reporting has also become an important observation within the CoCoRaHS program across the nation. In fact, drought observations from CoCoRaHS are now being included in the National Integrated Drought Information System.

How does one become a CoCoRaHS observer? Go to the CoCoRaHS website above and click on the “Join CoCoRaHS” emblem on the upper right side of the main website. After registering, take the simple online training, order your 4 inch rain gauge and start reporting!

To obtain a rain gauge Volunteers can order through the CoCoRaHS website for about $35 plus shipping. We do have a limited number of rain gauges to give out if you are able to be a regular observer and there is a limited number of observers currently in your area.

Apply with this form.

Observations are available on maps and reports for the public to view within five minutes of submitting them. The process takes only five minutesa day, but the impact to the community is tenfold: By providing high quality, accurate measurements, the observers are able to supplement existing networks and provide useful results to scientists, resource managers, decision makers and other users. If you have any questions, feel free to email Matthew Kidwell at the NWS in Eureka at matthew.kidwell@noaa.gov or call at 707-443-6484 and talk to Matthew Kidwell, Scott Carroll or Ed Swafford.

December has delivered a powerful punch of storms to California. But the wet weather comes with a dry dose of reality: The state’s largest reservoirs remain badly depleted, projected water deliveries are low, wells are drying up, and the Colorado River’s water, already diminished by a megadrought, is severely overallocated.

Throughout California, urban water managers are bracing for a fourth consecutive drought year. Nearly one out of every five water agencies — 76 out of 414 — in a recent state survey predict that they won’t have enough water to meet demand next year. That means they are likely to impose more severe restrictions on customers, with some Southern California providers considering a ban on all outdoor watering.

While December’s rain and snow show promise, water managers remember the same thing happened last year — epic early storms followed by the driest January through March in California’s recorded history.

“We’re not counting any chickens just yet,” said Andrea Pook, a spokesperson for the East Bay Municipal Utility District, which delivers water to 1.4 million Bay Area residents. The district’s water supply is in relatively good shape, with a 9% water deficit projected through the first half of 2023.

Last week the state announced an emergency regulation extending its ban on “wasteful water practices” through 2023. Included are watering while it’s raining, running decorative fountains without recirculating flows and washing vehicles with hoses not fitted with automatic shutoff nozzles, among others.

Some regions of California have more water than they need. Sacramento reported a 173% surplus for 2023 to state officials. City spokesperson Carlos Eliason said Sacramento has a healthy system of community wells to draw from in addition to the Sacramento and American rivers.

The Humboldt Bay Municipal Water District, serving 90,000 people in and around Eureka, reported an 834% surplus for 2023. Its main reservoir typically fills to the brim every year.

“Unfortunately, our system isn’t connected to other systems, so we can’t do anything to help our neighbors in other parts of the state, but we’d like to,” said General Manager John Friedenbach.

Other areas will probably cruise through the drought with some basic conservation efforts. The San Francisco Public Utilities Commission reported a 5% shortage for 2023 and the Santa Clara Valley Water District, serving the South Bay and Peninsula, has a shortfall of 11%.

Sonoma County’s major reservoir was at just 39% of capacity last week, its lowest level ever recorded, but Don Seymour, the county water agency’s deputy chief engineer, said there is no reason to panic. “That’s still a lot of water,” he said. “We could stretch that out into the spring of 2024.”

Cities dependent on state aqueduct are hit hard

But other regions of the state — mostly in Southern California — aren’t as fortunate. Millions of Southern Californians will likely face outdoor watering restrictions or even bans, with probable exceptions made for the hand-watering of trees.

The Las Virgenes Municipal Water District, for instance, expects a 63% shortage based on average historical demand. The district serves 77,000 people in Agoura Hills, Calabasas and other nearby communities in western Los Angeles County.

“That means that if a household normally uses 100 gallons of water, we’ll be able to deliver 37 gallons,” said Las Virgenes’ public affairs officer Mike McNutt.

The district purchases between 20,000 and 25,000 acre-feet of imported water annually from the region’s wholesaler, the Metropolitan Water District of Southern California. This year that delivery could drop to 11,000 acre-feet, according to John Zhao, the district’s director of facilities and operations.

McNutt said residents have already cut water use by 35% from pre-drought levels, mostly from outdoor conservation. Most homes in the region, he said, are fully outfitted with high-efficiency appliances, toilets and showerheads. That means there is limited room to improve without more drastic action, which the district hopes to avoid.

But if drought conditions continue, Las Virgenes customers could be hit with a total outdoor watering ban in 2023 — a step up from the region’s one-day-per-week allowance implemented last spring by the Metropolitan Water District.

Las Virgenes has a 10,000-acre-foot reservoir to fall back on, and McNutt said the district may also seek transfers of water from nearby communities with water to spare — arrangements he said would have to be negotiated through the Metropolitan Water District.

Most Southern Californians — 27 million people — rely at least partially on the State Water Project, a system of dams and canals that moves water from the Sacramento Valley to Southern California. On Dec. 1, the Department of Water Resources announced it will initially allocate just 5% of the supply that water districts requested from the state — bad news for those with no other water source.

“We are 100% reliant on the State Water Project,” McNutt said.

The Ventura County communities of Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley face a similar dependency on the State Water Project.

“We wouldn’t exist without that imported water,” said Wanda Moyer, Simi Valley’s water conservation coordinator.

Simi Valley is expecting a 68% shortage in 2023 and will implement a total outdoor watering ban if the state’s delivery projections don’t improve, Moyer said.

In June, when Metropolitan’s once-weekly watering limit for gardens and lawns took effect, “people were angry,” she said.

Breaking the rules triggered a warning the first time, then fines. Next year, Simi Valley’s repeat offenders may face a tactical measure – the use of water restrictors.

These tools are basically washers with a hole in the center. Inserted inside a pipe, a restrictor allows just a trickle of water to pass. Las Virgenes has been using them since June on repeat water-use offenders. The district, which has installed more than 200 restrictors, keeps the device in place for two weeks before removing it, McNutt said. If violations continue, it’s reinstalled for three months, he said.

Moyer said scofflaws whose water pipes are fitted with restrictors “will be taking a military-type shower.”

Water connections serving non-residential sprinklers for lawns and other landscaping could be shut off completely, she said, following multiple violations.

‘Water conservation is a way of life’

Fort Bragg, on California’s North Coast, nearly ran out of water in 2021, forcing management into a stage 4 “water crisis” mode. A small desalination unit, capable of processing 200 gallons per minute, was revved up to meet basic needs for the 7,500 local residents. Meanwhile, outlying communities, like the seaside bluff town of Mendocino and isolated inns, restaurants and homes, saw wells run dry. Fort Bragg delivery trucks, carrying water provided by the city of Ukiah, brought relief.

Things have improved for Fort Bragg. In 2022, late spring rains recharged its reserves, said John Smith, the city’s director of public works. Its small reservoir is brim-full, and the desalination unit is ready to go if needed.

The city asked residents to use 20% less water, which they did — plus some.

“We asked for 20%, and they conserved 30%,” he said.

Earlier this year, Californians were slow to respond to drought warnings. In fact, their usage went up last spring. Californians emerged from the driest January, February and March on record with the biggest jump in water use since the drought began: a nearly 19% increase in March compared to two years earlier.

But many Californians have stepped up since then. In October, statewide urban water use dropped 12.6% compared to October of 2020.

Still, the cumulative savings (only 5.2% compared to 2020) fall far short of Gov. Gavin Newsom’s request for a 15% voluntary cut.

Santa Rosa’s water director, Jennifer Burke, said water use in the city of 180,000 is down 18% of average since June of 2021, thanks in part to rules limiting outdoor watering to nighttime hours when evaporative losses are less.

In Sacramento, residents have curbed water use by more than 20% by limiting residents to watering twice weekly from March through October and once per week the rest of the year. This ordinance, Eliason said, is permanent.

“We wanted to make sure water conservation is a way of life,” Eliason said.

For many Californians, it already is. The state’s residents have streamlined their water use and reduced waste for decades. Daily residential water use statewide in October decreased to 88 gallons per capita, compared to the five-year average of 97.

Jeffrey Mount, a senior fellow with the Public Policy Institute of California, said California’s overall water consumption has remained the same since the 1980s even though the population grew from 30 million to 40 million.

“That is a good indication that adjustments can be made as things get drier,” Mount said.

An even steeper trend toward conservation has been logged by the East Bay Municipal Utility District. The customer population has grown by 35% since 1970 while overall water use has declined by 45%.

In recent years, residents have increasingly swapped out grassy lawns for drought-smart landscaping, and they are currently limited to watering outdoors no more than three days per week. These measures have reduced water use during the ongoing drought by 14 to 15% — what Pook describes as “conservation on top of conservation.”

Lawns go dry but trees are protected

Green grass will go brown next year, and in the long run, vast areas of lawn will probably disappear permanently as Californians adjust to aridification.

“I see communities prioritizing socially functional turf versus non-functional turf,” said Dan Drugan, a spokesperson for the Calleguas Municipal Water District, which supplies, among other towns, for Thousand Oaks and Simi Valley.

In October, the Metropolitan Water District passed a resolution encouraging communities “to reduce or eliminate irrigation of non-functional turf with potable water.” This followed a May, 2022 emergency order from the State Water Resources Control Board banning non-functional turf irrigation with potable water on commercial, institutional and industrial properties statewide. The Pacific Institute has calculated that such efforts could save California as much as 400,000 acre-feet of water annually.

But no matter how tight the state’s water supplies get, keeping urban trees alive will probably be a priority.

“We’re seeing, in all urban areas, a frantic effort to conserve urban forests,” Mount said, noting that urban trees provide shade, reduced ground-level temperatures and natural water treatment services.

Even in communities served by Las Virgenes, where much of the water under current restrictions is designated for health and human safety uses, spokesman McNutt expects residents will hand-irrigate with buckets of shower water and pots of kitchen water to keep trees alive.

“The last thing that anybody wants – anybody – is for the trees to die,” he said.

Mount, who recently eliminated most of his own backyard turf — sparing just a narrow strip for his dogs — said he takes some solace in the fact that green grass remains a prominent feature of institutional landscaping, for it means there is still room to improve.

“That makes me more sanguine than most about the future,” he said.

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CalMatters.org is a nonprofit, nonpartisan media venture explaining California policies and politics.

Elena Marie David was born January 13, 1942, in Arcata to Angelo and Mary Tanferani. She passed peacefully with her family by her side on December 7, 2022. A native of Arcata, Elena graduated from Arcata High School in 1959 and attended Humboldt State University for two years in a secretarial training program. Elena married her high school sweetheart, Kenneth (Ken) David, in 1961, together they celebrated 55 of years of marriage. During those years they raised their son (Brian) and Daughter (Jan), purchased Ken’s Auto Parts, and enjoyed time together. Elena and Ken enjoyed traveling with friends, many trips to Mexico with their dear friends Don and Marlene Miller, going to Trinity Lake, and being involved in the community, as well as the lives of those they loved.

Elena’s dedication, commitment and service to her community was unique and inspirational. She was an influential positive female role model for her generation. She started at Bank of America at the age of 16, as a part-time teller, and after 25 years she worked here way up to branch manager. Over the 40 years she worked at Bank of America, she held many roles, but her favorite role was helping the community and all those she met through working at the bank. Elena was awarded “Outstanding Young Women of America” in 1977. This program was designed to honor young women between the ages of 21-36 who had distinguished themselves in their homes, profession and communities, it is no surprise Elena was awarded, she far exceeded in all areas. In addition to her role at BofA, Elena served as Treasurer of the Italian Catholic Federation, held many positions within Soroptimist, Hospitality Chairman for Bloomfield PTA, Cheerleader Coordinator and Board member of the Arcata-McKinleyville Pop Warner, March of Dimes, United Way, Easter Seals, and was heavily involved in St. Mary’s Catholic Church her whole life. In 2001, Elena retired from Bank of America, though she didn’t let that slow her down.

Elena continued to serve the community through the various boards listed above as well as new ones, where she brought her financial expertise and background along. From November 8, 2004, to September 20, 2021, she served as a Director for the Arcata Fire Protection District Board Division 4, leading the way as the first female Board Member. During her time on the Arcata Fire Board, she was Vice President for 10 years. She also served as President for Soroptimist International for Arcata from 2000 to 2021. Elena was a board member for Clarke Historical Museum and joined Senior Citizens on Patrol (S.C.O.P), which she absolutely loved. She adored the Community and was always looking for a way to make an impact. Elena touched many people’s lives. Wherever she went or whatever board she was on, she made lifelong friends whom she loved, cherished, and always had so much fun with.

While staying involved in the community, she also did a phenomenal job staying involved in her kids, grandkids and great-grandkids lives. Elena was present in everything they did, up until her very last day. Her family was her pride and joy, she loved hosting family gatherings, attending sporting events, cheerleading competitions, bake sales and so much more. We as her kids, grandkids and great-grandkids feel extremely blessed to have had such an inspiring role model in our lives.

Elena is preceded in death by her husband Kenneth David; her parents, Angelo, and Mary Tanferani. She is survived by her brother Don (Vickey); son Brian David (Wendy), daughter Jan David-DeVore; grandchildren Lindsey Devore (Camron), Kaylee David, Cortney Fasnacht (Michael); great-grandchildren Jacob Steele, Cobe Duncan and Hali Fasnacht and many other relatives and close friends.

A public visitation will be held at Paul’s Chapel, Friday December 16, 2022, from 2 p.m. to 6 p.m., a public rosary will follow. Saturday December 17, 2022, a Formal Mass at Saint Mary’s Catholic Church will be held at 11 a.m., a reception will follow at Leavey Hall. In lieu of flowers, please consider donating to St. Mary’s Church, Arcata, Hospice of Humboldt, Soroptimist or your favorite charity.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Elena David’s loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here. Email news@lostcoastoutpost.com.