Mr. Mayor, the Floor is Yours

I met the current mayor of Imperial Beach—the southwestern-most city in the U.S.—back in 1994. He had just completed a doctoral thesis resulting in the inclusion of a remote gray whale nursery in the El Vizcaíno Biosphere Reserve in Baja. This meeting led to the publication of one of Dedina’s first non-academic works, a feature on the big wave-spot the Tijuana Sloughs. We maintained casual correspondence over the decades. Mostly, though, we kept to our hustles, Dedina at the cross-border conservation group WILDCOAST, and me at the ink pot. 

In 2007 we became reacquainted in earnest. A handful of friends had formed a loose-knit group based on a shared, lifelong aficion for a particular stretch of Lower California coastline. One of us was among the first to ever ride a wave there in the mid 1960s. Another had once hand-built a stone cabin on one of the beaches, living by his lonesome through all seasons, learning the region down to the atomic level. Yet another, a pilot, had worked with the Flying Samaritans, bringing health services to remote ranchos. All had spent hundreds upon hundreds of days there, even in the surf-free months. 

In the late 80s, a road was graded along that coast. Grueling two-track gave way to comparatively high-speed travel. The rush was on. The new roadbed offered vistas of heretofore unseen coves. By 1995, a solid holiday swell at a mainframe point might see 30 campsites.     

Those with history in Baja could read the tea leaves. Six hundred miles south, grading of the East Cape’s Camino Costero Rural had led to real estate speculation, commerce, fenced-off beaches, and a profound insult to classical rural Baja life—and the environment on which it depended. 

With only a scant handful of fisherman-ranchers living full time on this 80-mile stretch of coastline, getting ahead of the onslaught felt plausible. The group charged me with reaching out to Dedina. While he had a long and successful conservation record on the peninsula, he was mostly unfamiliar with the north-central region. That did little to dissuade him. He met us in a humble backyard in Leucadia’s Tortilla Flats barrio, where he presented a plan to lock down the entire coastline, soup to nuts, against future development. Surveys, title discovery, negotiations, outreach and education, management, and, of course, funding—all were accounted for. The presentation was streamlined and clear, speaking to Dedina’s frictionless, high-velocity approach. A handful of the crew started the ball rolling by converting the titles to their privately-held land into a conservation easement—a selfless show of faith. This game was afoot.

I accepted an unpaid position as Asesor del Proyecto—or project advisor—prioritizing headlands based on geographical charisma, objective beauty, and surf appeal. Basically, IDing the spots people might first try to purchase. WILDCOAST quickly bolstered these calls with actual science, shading in those parcels with anything resembling a wetland or attractive natural resources. A friend and I guided Dedina for his first real look at what came to be called the Lost Coast Project. Our original crew winced a little at the idea of a naming convention. We hoped for a “first do no harm” scenario operating on the down low. It was, after all, fellow surfers who invariably privatized and overcrowded every honey hole from K-38 to Punta Pequeña. No entran moscas, the old dicho says, en boca cerrado. Flies don’t enter a closed mouth. Dedina, rightfully, wasn’t thinking that way. He was shopping for checks with no less than six zeros on them. And he got them. Quickly. But he also quietly intuited the dangers of putting anything on blast. 

To date, the project has protected, for as close as anyone can come to perpetuity, 36.5 miles and 51,795 acres of central Baja coastline. Yes, carpetbaggers from El Norte mine tonnage of beach cobble for the U.S. landscape market. Some try to run for-profit 4×4 surf tours. Others stage banal commercial photo shoots in the region. Social media posts bust the zone in ways that make old-time surf media appear almost saintly. But for the most part, experiencing the vibrational sanctity of a true coastal wilderness finds most folks checking their base instincts. And, thanks in large part to our mayoral subject, truly rapacious development will be legally held at bay for many lifetimes.

Dedina has, to my eye, changed little in these 25 years. He still speaks at volume, with a rapid-fire command of both city council English and junta ejiditario Spanish. Tall and telegenic, he usually sports some variant of a Prince Valiant haircut. If he comes on a little strong—a trifle messianic—it can be attributed to his principle-fueled agendas. Especially, one will find, in defending his hometown against all manner of vile assaults. One wonders how he might scale this recently discovered gift for politics. For now, though, we’ll keep it local. 

SH What makes Imperial Beach a unique surf town from a national perspective? 

SD We’re one of the last working-class beach towns left in Southern California. It’s what many of our classic surf cities used to be like after World War II through the 60s, until the coastal zone became too expensive for the average surfer. Our cultural diversity and location on the border gives IB a different feel. We have a binational crew surfing on both sides of the border who are locals in IB and Baja. That can have its advantages when you’re padding out in Rosarito Beach or San Miguel and you see friendly faces in the lineup. 

SH Are the Tijuana Sloughs still a “thing,” with guys hitting it up on bomber days? 

SD It’s always been an underground spot, but it reached a zenith in the 1940s and 50s with IB legend and lifeguard Dempsey Holder. He surfed there with [Bob] Simmons, Pat Curren, and many more [legends]. It’s notoriously fickle and rarely breaks way outside anymore. Combine that with horrendous pollution, and we’re lucky to surf there a few times a year. That’s a bummer, as there is nowhere I’d rather surf with lifelong friends—and especially my sons, who grew up surfing there. 

SH How has the IB surf scene changed since your youth?   

SD I started surfing in 1977 when I was 13, and IB was full-on 1970s SoCal gritty surf culture—not unlike the HB from Kem Nunn’s ​Tapping the Source​ and Venice/Santa Monica as depicted in ​Dogtown and Z-Boys​. That changed at the very end of the 70s and into the 80s with a more dynamic and progressive surf scene and the surfing dominance of Glen and Mark Gould, Kelly Kraus, Dave and Jim Montalbano, Mike and Terry Gillard, Ricky Coronado, Dave Parra, Jim Sullivan, Aaron Chase, Alan Cleland—made famous being featured on a ​Surfer ​two-page spread of an epic IB barrel—and many others. The IB scene was well documented by Aaron Chang, who grew up here. However, today, the ocean pollution crisis has taken a huge toll.   

SH For those who don’t know the situation, describe the Rio Tijuana sewage issue.

SD Unfortunately, the significant growth of Tijuana combined with its dilapidated and failing sewage treatment system has resulted in an ocean pollution crisis that regularly closes beaches from Rosarito northward to Coronado [in the U.S.]. Whether it’s non-stop sewage pump station breakdowns, rain-caused collector pipe collapses, or the more than 130 points where toxic waste and sewage are being dumped into the Tijuana River, it can kill water quality for up to 20 miles or more on both sides of the border. The City of Imperial Beach, along with the State of California, Port of San Diego, and the cities of Chula Vista and San Diego, as well as the Surfrider Foundation, all sued the U.S. federal government for violations of the Clean Water Act in the Tijuana River Valley. We just want the feds to build infrastructure to divert cross-border sewage flows back into the sewer system. We’re also constantly working on both sides of the border to aggressively push officials at every level of government to fix this very fixable mess. 

SH How has the transition to city government gone? Has anything taken you by surprise about the process? 

SD Being the mayor of IB has been an incredibly rewarding experience. I’m grateful to have the support of a fantastic city council, which also includes three surfers—Paloma Aguirre, Mark West, and Bobby Patton, who was an IB ripper in the 80s—as well as city staff and residents who have supported our efforts to improve every corner of the city. Sometimes I’m amazed about how fast we can get things done, and then other times, as in the case of the border pollution crisis, you see how problems are magnified by a “can’t do” philosophy at every level of government. It would be the equivalent of having a bunch of people on the beach telling you constantly that padding out is impossible. You just have to ignore them, paddle out, and catch waves. 

Sometimes I’m amazed about how fast we can get things done. Other times you see how problems are magnified by a “can’t do” philosophy. It’s like having a bunch of people on the beach telling you that padding out is impossible. You just have to ignore them.

SH Is local government as divisive as what we see in the national landscape? 

SD It can be, but we’ve focused on projects that bring people together. 

SH What are the biggest issues facing U.S. coastal towns today? 

SD Climate change/sea level rise, affordable housing, and coastal pollution/development. 

SH How do you propose we address those? 

SD For climate change and sea level rise we have to commit to addressing coastal erosion using natural climate solutions, protecting and restoring all of our natural ecosystems to make them more resilient, and continue to permit unfettered coastal access for all. So the more we can restore our wetlands and watersheds and protect our reefs and kelp forests—the more we can avoid things like breakwaters and seawalls and work with nature instead of against it—the better. Rising seas and erosion are a huge threat to surf spots globally. I was amazed when I surfed in Chile, Nicaragua, and Oaxaca to see the major damage that increasingly stronger Southern Hemisphere storms are having on beaches in regions that are pretty undeveloped. Throw in badly-planned coastal development as well as increasing pollution, especially in the developing world, and we’re seeing some significant damage to coastlines. So we can develop and grow economically, we just have to respect and restore all of our natural areas on the planet and focus on sustainable development in a way that minimizes our impact to the environment—which is totally doable. In terms of affordable housing, California beach cities—and cities like Sydney are similar—have become unaffordable for 99.9 percent of the population. We’ve created a de facto apartheid system of housing, where only the wealthy can afford to live near the coast. That has to change and we’re all going to have to build more affordable housing, or the State of California is going to force cities to do it. 

SH What does a typical Tuesday look like for you?

SD For my work at WILDCOAST, a typical day may involve visiting our Ensenada office. That entails a dawn patrol run to San Miguel, paddling out in the dark for what can generally be a pretty fun session. I’ll be joined by Zach Plopper from our San Diego office, as well as Eduardo Najera who runs our Mexico program and lives nearby. We’ll eat breakfast at Café Toya in Sauzal, which is a full-on surfer hangout, or the newer Escama Gastro Café. We’ll then meet with our staff and review our projects at our office. Then it’s time for lunch. If we’re in a hurry, we’ll grab tacos at El Trailero or if we have more time we’ll hit up Boules or Muelle 3 (a must-stop after a day surfing Todos) for a meal with our WILDCOAST team. 

SH How’s surfing doing from an ocean conservation POV? Do we seem to be more engaged these days, or less, compared to, say, the 1980s…

SD I’m really impressed with the growing Global Wave movement. That’s the coalition of organizations from around the world committed to preserving waves and beaches. I’m really stoked that WILDCOAST works closely with the Surfrider Foundation and Save The Waves and all the other fantastic ocean conservation organizations, especially those from Peru, Chile, Mexico, Europe, Australia, and New Zealand. I’m also thankful to SIMA for its support of ocean conservation via the Waterman’s Ball. I’m a big believer in the surfing reserve movement. But we have more challenges than ever. It’s critical that we have organized teams of surfers dedicated to preserving the natural integrity of our surf spots, which are also critical fish habitats, marine ecosystems, and can be economic drivers of local economies. We need to continue supporting an all-of-the-above conservation strategy and build the capacity of organizations around the world to preserve our shorelines and make sure that we have access to them. 

SH S​an Diego at 3-million people, Tijuana at about 2-million. It’s a region that surpassed, arguably, its carrying capacity half a century ago. What gives you hope as a surfer, as a mayor?

SD We’re learning how to be more sustainable and reduce our impacts to the environment. We have to continue pressing to increase green infrastructure to reduce stormwater pollution, conserve and restore our green and blue open spaces, and reduce emissions so that we have clean air and water. The sustainable city movement is here in a big way. One of the things we need to continually address is whether we want people living in cities or building new suburban developments in the back country or in the coastal open space that is, for now, undeveloped. While I’m an optimist, we need strong leadership at every level in government and the private sector to push to be both economically and environmentally sustainable.