Central Coast No. 1

I rode the train along the Central Coast in the early summer. John Steinbeck’s East of Eden, with its families rooted in the very land I traveled along, served as my companion during the journey.

Seeing “the Gabilan Mountains to the east” and “the Santa Lucias stood up against the sky to the west”, I fancied myself going back in time to the turn of the twentieth century, seeing the Salinas Valley through their eyes.

When I set my sights beyond Highway 101, most of the landscape looked just like the narrator described it. Agricultural fields rolled across the valley—revealing the location of wells and irrigation systems—otherwise, the landscape seemed arid and harsh. Grasses and rock, huddled under the winds, extended towards the foothills and flowed around scrub and stubby oaks. Occasionally, I saw the “windbreaks of eucalyptus to keep the plowed topsoil from blowing away.” Ragged barns of an indeterminate age stood frozen in time. I yearned to experience “the earth burst into bloom—yellow and blue and gold.”

If I were to travel this route in another month, I might see “the earth dried and the streams stopped” as the Salinas River evaporated, just as it had for over a hundred years.

Steinbeck’s sparse yet picturesque prose brought the landscape to life for me. I’d lived on the Central Coast during my college years, but in those days, I never paid much attention to the landscape on my many trips up and down the state. With Steinbeck’s words echoing in my ears, I learned to appreciate its powerful, enduring beauty.