On one side of sea grass-tufted dunes at Lawson s Landing, the mouth of Tomales Bay opens toward sparkling waves, rocky outcroppings and, in the distance, the brown bluffs of Bodega Head. On the other lies a hodgepodge of more than 200 weather-beaten trailer homes along with a boathouse, a snack bar and sheds. Nearby sprawls a 1,000-vehicle campground dotted with picnic tables, fire rings and portable toilets — all amid coastal wetlands at the base of towering dune formations.

Although the privately owned Marin County resort attracts hundreds of thousands of beach lovers each year, the state Coastal Commission says most of Lawson s Landing was constructed over the past half-century without permits from agencies that enforce building, land-use and environmental standards. Much of the development, state officials and environmentalists say, occurred in fragile dunes and wetlands that harbor endangered and threatened species, including peregrine falcons and red-legged frogs.

"It is California s largest un-permitted coastal campground," said Mark Massara, coastal program director for the Sierra Club. "It also is one of the longest-running, least-accomplished land-use sagas in California history." But to the throngs of people who come here each year to camp, boat, fish and clam, Lawson s Landing is Shangri-La, and in a county better known for wealthy enclaves and expensive getaways, Lawson's is a rare populist haven.

"To me, it's a poor man's paradise," said Helmuth Himmrich, a Lodi retiree who has been vacationing at the landing since 1965 and was bitten by a shark in 1972 while diving for abalone nearby. "In the evening," he said, "we have a little fire and congregate and visit with friends and lie to each other about the fishing."

Decades of tangling over illegal construction moved a step closer to resolution in December when the Lawson family, which has owned the property since the 1920s, consented to an order adopted by the Coastal Commission. The family agreed to refrain from further construction and to complete applications for coastal development permits within 120 days, or face penalties of up to $6,000 per day.

"It s worth saving, and I think we can work something out," said Lawson's Landing President Mike Lawson, one of a dozen family members who live and work there. "There will probably be a degree of downsizing." All sides in the long-running dispute agree that balancing environmental safeguards and the resort's role in providing affordable coastal access to inlanders is challenging, but important.

Sporting "Save Lawson's Landing" stickers on their chests, a few hundred supporters packed the commission meeting in San Francisco on Dec. 14. Thousands more wrote letters. Terri Brodski, a Placer County real estate broker who has spent summers at the landing since her childhood, pays $300 a month to keep a trailer here year-round. "My dad took us to enjoy the beach," she said in an interview. "My kids learned to fish there."

Tim Woerner, a trailer owner who uses a wheelchair and has lived at the landing for 36 years, recently took in the sun outside the snack and bait shop. "I think [the commission's] agenda is to make it like that park and put it back in a natural state," he said, pointing across the bay toward Point Reyes National Seashore.

The Lawson family originally operated the 940-acre property as a cattle and sheep ranch, which most of it still is. In 1957, they opened a campground, and in the early 1960s, the state declared that 15 trailers on the property were there illegally. Over the next several decades, the thriving resort was cited for permit violations by various state and local agencies, but its applications and environmental reviews often were rejected, incomplete or late.

"It slipped through the cracks for 40 years," said Catherine Caufield, outgoing executive director of the Environmental Action Committee of West Marin. "A lot of people were enjoying it out there, so maybe it was not the most attractive thing for officials to take on."

But Brian Crawford, assistant director of the county Community Planning Agency, said the process has been drawn out by complex issues, such as weighing environmental impact against public access needs. Crawford said an environmental impact report is nearing completion.

"The county wants … to preserve one of the only low-cost accommodations in Marin County, where a bed and breakfast can run $250 a night and up," he said. "At the same time, the county is intent on preserving the dunes and other sensitive areas." After complaints from Caufield's organization and the Sierra Club that the county s coastal permit process was moving too slowly, the commission embarked on its current enforcement actions in 2005.

A recent commission staff report said Lawson's Landing graded roads, filled wetlands and built many things without permits from the county or the commission, including a 221-foot fishing pier, which the Lawsons say was an existing 19th century pier that was rebuilt bit by bit.

The Lawsons said most illegal construction occurred from the 1950s to the early 1970s. They estimate the family spent $2 million over the last two decades to try to solve the problems. "We've been in limbo," said Willy Vogler, vice president of Lawson s Landing. "Our forefathers who established it made it a [permitting] mess. But if they had not just [built] it, it probably would not be here. Most of the access along the coast is for people with money."

The Sierra Club s Massara agrees the landing provides low- and moderate-income people with valuable beach access. "We need to be careful not to put so much of a burden on the family that they sell for development or make it a high-end resort," he added.

But the commission and environmentalists also point out that a few thousand people with recreational vehicles and tents are packed onto wetlands during holiday weekends, and that the trailers — some with wooden decks, fencing and wind-breaks — have septic tanks that could contaminate groundwater or the bay.

The Lawsons said no one is allowed to camp in marshy areas and that they protect the dunes from overuse. Despite periodic beach pollution, Crawford said the county found no water contamination from the resort but wants a new sewage system to avoid future water-quality problems, as does the family.

Local marine biologist John Berzina said he uses mud and organisms from the landing shoreline as controls when checking other locations in the state for industrial pollution. "It's a pristine environment," he said. "They have been there 50 years. I think they are doing a good job."

The Lawsons operated a sand quarry until environmental opposition forced them to close it last year. But botanist Peter Baye, who has consulted for Caufield s group, said the property still has rare, highly mobile un-vegetated dunes like those paved over in San Francisco.

And he said these dunes provide habitat for a grass found nowhere else and for the dune tansy, with its feathery leaves and small, yellow flowers. Commission spokeswoman Sara Christie said the Coastal Act requires protection not only of habitat but also of public access to low-cost visitor facilities.

"We are just as interested in preserving Lawson s Landing as an attractive affordable overnight camping experience as we are in protecting the dune ecosystem," she said. "The key is to find a way to balance those two goals…. There are going to have to be some changes."
(Por Tim Reiterman, Los Angeles Times, 02/01/2007)