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A Study in Contrasts: Seaport Boulevard
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February 27, 2005 The biggest surprise of Seaport Boulevard is the beauty of the salt ponds right around Cargill's Redwood City plant. Instead of the scaly, scummy evaporators a little further south by the Dumbarton Bridge, the ponds here make perfect mirrors that transform a rather down-at-heel neighborhood into tableaus of quiet perfection in all kinds of weather. The absence of birds and the respectful distance of the vegetation from water's edge are a sure sign of the high salt content in the ponds, but it's not any less beautiful and peaceful for being unnatural. Cargill has been taking about 300,000 tons of salt out of the Redwood City crystallizer beds every year. Most of the time, the weather does the work. A few employees monitor and adjust salinity to make sure the salt doesn't crystallize too fast—a matter of opening a sluice or starting a pump. For the better part of the year, the ponds lie deserted and the waters undisturbed. State and federal agencies have bought most of Cargill's
holdings with the intention to restore the original salt marsh. Work
has already started near Bayfront Park in Menlo Park and at Alviso.
The ponds near Seaport are still in the company's hands, but operations
may be winding down here as well. The South Bay Salt Pond Restoration
Project's map
showing the disposition of the ponds suggests that they too will
be transformed, as Cargill is retaining them for unspecified "other
purposes." |
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Aside Evaporators are used at the beginning, to increase the salinity Bittern is not commercially viable |
At the levee that marks the boundary between salt ponds and marsh, a placard was posted in 2002, noting that a certain Mark Sanders, on behalf of West Point Marina, requested a permit to build a 480-slip marina, restaurants, and stores "in a pond formerly used as a bittern pond (Pond 10)." The permit must have been granted, because now the pond has been churned up and a line of large yellow excavators stands at attention—ready to dig out those slips, it would appear. Cargill's shipping dock on the harborside of Seaport Boulevard, north of the marina, gives the clearest indication of change in the offing. There used to be two conveyors waiting to crank and heave into life at harvest time, in the fall. One of them has vanished, and in its place is nothing but evidence of recent and perhaps still on-going construction. The larger one that still remains looks like a dinosaur skeleton, an accidental survivor from a different age, beautiful in its complexity and a little mysterious at the same time.
Recycling Mecca Among their number is a range of construction and other industrial recycling operations:
CLUI's Land Use database suggests there is also an industrial fuel recycling plant, but whoever is doing it isn't advertising. Romic perhaps? On weekdays, the place is full of activity and noise, with machinery in various locations billowing clouds of steam at regular intervals. On the weekends, though, the yards have an eerie, post-apocaplyptic feel, They'd make a suitable location for a very pessimistic science-fiction movie. Mad Max scenery in grey instead of tan. And of course, this is our future, but it is not at all grim: we'd see much more of this kind of thing in the optimistic scenario.
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In that way, it is parallel to the
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Not only is there such a thing as clean dirt, but there is also (conversely) a category of discards that hasn't quite reached the status of garbage yet. As long as something sits around in your garage or attic, it's your stuff, yes? Perhaps you no longer use it, but it's not garbage. It's the trip to the dump or recycling yard that makes it into garbage. Up to that point, it might still go into the yard sale and become a treasured possession for someone else. Your cousin might come and have an urgent need for it. It's a pretty straightforward distinction. At Seaport Boulevard the difference is not nearly so clear: much of what sits around the yards and premises of these various businesses has a most convincing mien of garbage. It has lost its treasured possession potential. Nevertheless, it might not make that trip to the dump for decades. But there are also lots of other discards that look like they are still serving some kind of useful purpose, first and foremost among them the railroad remains. There are tracks all along Seaport Boulevard and into many of the yards. They clearly haven't been used in a very long time and there are places where the tracks end abruptly at the boundary of a particular property to continue again on the other side. Cars and engines are sitting everywhere on the tracks, in use for office space or break rooms perhaps. Altogether, they make a peculiar but rather charming outdoor railway museum.
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Dot.com
Ghost Town The campus, polished to a high gloss, now stands as a monument to the empire-building aspirations of the dot.com industry, a kind of Ozymandias of the modern age, its windows blank and it parking lots dotted with stray cars. Marijke Rijsberman
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| © Marijke Rijsberman 2005. All Rights Reserved. 650-868-3432, marijke@interfacility.com |