A Secret History of American River People

We ended up walking in a different neighborhood this morning after we picked up our loaf of bread from the backyard bakery across town. How strange that neither of us has ever explored this area before. I myself lived nearby for a few months, many years ago, but never ventured on the streets we found today. We started off at Moran Lake, a county park by the ocean, and trekked off through a eucalyptus grove that wound much further back than I could have predicted. The ground was muddy and spongy from the recent rains; a small creek held a couple of egrets. A few dog walkers came by. We could see some sort of maintenance buildings behind a thick fence, and various backyards, some quite elegant with all their furniture, lawns and portable heaters, and others ending in shabby broken down docks on the murky water. We emerged at the top of the trail, picked right rather than left, and were once more on a city street. I could not visualize this area on a mental map. We wound our way back to the eucalyptus grove, to the ocean, and our car. All the time I kept thinking that we must look like we definitely didn't belong in the neighborhood; we were dressed differently than most people we saw. We are, mind you, maybe ten minutes from our house. Fifteen. 

And in the middle of this adventure, I see this boat in someone's yard. I don't know if I could find it again. It doesn't look river worthy, and yet that is exactly where it goes. I took the photo on a whim, because the structure looked interesting, but then I googled Secret History of American River People, the sign on the door. You should take a look. A group of local artists have built this floating cabin to explore American rivers and study the history of shantyboats, look at the role of rivers as common space, and record personal histories of river dwellers. It's quite an undertaking. Take a minute to watch the video. And then marvel at what can happen if you walk down a different block someday...