Morro Bay

The beaches of Morro are remarkable different compared to the other frequented beaches of California’s central coast. While most have lengths of sloped sandy shores, at Morro Bay the earth seems more rugged and rocky. The sand has rocks and small pebbles mixed in, and even the sand itself seems rougher. Morro Rock’s proximity suggests that the surrounding rocky terrain contributed to the beach’s characteristics. Dark grey rocks that eroded from the mountainside form a rocky shoreline, and this further supports my observation.

Morro Bay, the city, is a mirror of its surrounding landscape. The most striking feature is the coal mill—a dominant structure, out of place, and a symbol of our industrialization. Morro Rock is nature’s version. It’s too dominates the landscape, is quite out of place on the coastline, and is a testament of nature’s own industrial workings. The rock is a remnant of a long dormant volcano. I couldn’t imagine the area without Morro Rock, and its hulking mass belongs here more than any of us. The power plant is equally associated with Morro Bay, but it could disappear without eliciting any sorrow from me.

Both the bay and city have a rugged feel. The houses are strewn about on the low hillsides, surrounded by patches of coastal plants and brown packed dirt. There is a raw ugliness to it, and I see the same thing in Morro Rock. The city is a quintessential example of a settlement matching the environment in which it was built. But I don’t mean to say that the city is good for the environment, only that it matches it.