Drifterwood House
“Watching a coast as it slips by the ship is like thinking about an enigma. There it is before you, smiling, frowning, inviting, grand, mean, insipid, or savage, and always mute with an air of whispering, "Come and find out".”
― Joseph Conrad, Heart of Darkness
John Hardcastle on the roof of his first driftwood house on the north coast of California. November, 1969
My enthusiasm for exploring the northern coast of California can be traced back to my very first trip to the Lost Coast in southern Humboldt over 25 years ago. An isolated area in an otherwise shrinking world, the Lost Coast offers primal beauty in the form of meaningful waves, steep mountains, wildlife and spring blooms. Occasionally, along the 25 miles trail, one comes across a driftwood shelter.
Some more elaborate than others, these curious dwellings offer a reprieve from the typically strong winds and sun that batter the north coast. Below are a collection of a few of the dwellings I’ve encountered over the years. For me, while they are a reminder of humanity, they highlight what I value most. Creativity, physicality, spontaneity and simplicity. Not necessarily in that order and not in the least a complete list…but you get the message.
Given the impermanence of these structures, it’s difficult to find any historical images or records. (Lloyd Kahn, founding editor of Shelter Publications, authored Driftwood Shacks, Anonymous Architecture: Along the California Coast.) Last year, however, I was shown a collection of old polaroids which detail a collection of driftwood houses built by one man along the northern California coast in the late 1960s & early 1970s.
In 1966, after a chance encounter with Timothy Leary, John Hardcastle left his pursuit of a pre-med degree at Harvard and returned to the west coast. What would have been a straight and narrow career path, his life now an open opportunity. John would eventually land in the bay area and, after some more traditional means of employment, notably a skiing instructor and real estate agent, found himself self-employed in the burgeoning black market of the cannabis trade.
With no tether to an urban or suburban existence, this would-be-doctor turned noncomformist, found himself, in his early 20s, living a bohemian, coastal lifestyle. John had a variety of interesting pursuits, including constructing a series of unique and elaborate driftwood cabins.
There’s no shortage of counterculture references from this time, but one of the most interesting exists in the short life span of these coastal shacks. I think about the stark cultural changes from the 1950's to the 60's and into the 70's. Linear lives born out of an advancing American culture which, for whatever reason, manifested itself in order and right angles. White picket fences, suits and ties, Levittowns, as pictured below.
Levitttown, PA circa 1959.
No geographical feature embodies the notion of impermanence more than our ocean’s coastlines. A hurricane can, in the span of just a few hours, shift the landscape with such impact that it can be seen from space. And, over the span of several years, gentle waves can accomplish the same feat. John’s driftwood houses would be short lived, less than a year. It was in his first driftwood house where John would narrowly avert his own demise.
As the story goes, the small stream running underneath the cabin began to swell as a result of a series of winter storms. Finally, in the dead of night, the house was washed out into the gaping Pacific. John was the only one home that evening. As the house began to drift out to sea, and with no moon and a rural location so removed that there were no lights to orient himself, John leapt into the black water. Not knowing which direction to swim, John heard the faint sound of a dog barking in the distance. He swam towards it and finally made his way to shore. And to John’s surprise, the dog was nowhere to be found.
A view of his first shack. The stream running underneath would swell and sweep it into the ocean.
From L to R: 1) John and his 2-year old daughter 2) A perspective showing the ravine 3) Mother and daughter
The coast taketh and the coast giveth. With no shortage of building material washing up on the beach, John almost immediately began construction on his second house. Another impressively elaborate structure, this driftwood cabin found itself nestled into the cliff far away from any kind of runoff.
John’s “second” home.
Above: Pictures of the interior - bongo and stove…all the essentials.
While it was the sheer force of water which took his first cabin, John would lose his second driftwood home to a fire. Deliberately set by the very official looking authorities in the far right image below, the structure quickly burned away. Burning structures down seemed to be a “go-to” strategy by the authorities with the Punta Gorda lighthouse campus suffering a similar fate in the 1970s.
With the quick rise and fall of his former driftwood domiciles, John seemed to concede to both the forces of nature and “the man” and set about building his third and last driftwood shack with a minimalist approach. We know not of this structure’s fate, but I like to think that each of the driftwood pieces used to build it returned to the sea to drift another day.
John’s third and final house.
