West Marin Naturally: Tomales Bay Roadside Cleanup

Who’s the schlub that is dumping guzzled vodka bottles along West Marin’s picturesque roadways?

This was one topic of conversation among friends who gathered for Saturday’s Tomales Bay Roadside Cleanup. The dumpsters at White House Pool provided the office water-cooler atmosphere.

The EAC sponsored event is choreographed by Rigdon Currie and Dennis Rodoni. Seventy-five volunteers tidied up our rural roads and collected two tons of garbage and recyclables.

David Wimpfheimer and I reported for duty dressed in our dowdiest, protective clothes and rubber boots. We were provided with the goods that turn ordinary people into Citizen Scavengers; latex gloves, collection bags and a neon-orange ‘please-don’t-run-me-over’ safety vest. A fresh doughnut, coffee and a warm hug from our gentlemen coordinators completed preparations.

While David and I trudged over our assigned area on Platform Bridge Road, we discussed the psychology of littering. Carelessly discarded cigarettes ran neck-in-neck with grimy booze bottles. David recognized that the caliber of beer had improved over past years haul. The usual cheap, watered down hops in a can, were replaced by $3.00 beers, and a few expensive ales. We gingerly picked soda, juice and ‘Gatorade’ bottles out of poison oak. A new energy drink to add to the puzzle was a little sugar-free number ‘Go Girl.’ The dainty and feminine pink can stood out among the manly stimulant drinks, such as ‘Red Bull’.

A new brand of litter this year was from Toby’s coffee kiosk, although, just two paper cups implies a more conscientious patron. I relied on David for the heavy lifting and dangerous runs down the embankment to haul rusted car parts, a moldy rug and various household discards.

Back at the staging area, the coffee was burnt, and the fresh cream had curdled in the sun. An idiosyncratic feeling of accomplishment developed with each load of rubbish. Varied opinions and analysis continued with every new brand of hooch.

Larry Brown discovered a prized possession. A dirty piece of paper turned out to be a report card for a kindergartener, dated March 1995. The little boy had glowing comments from his teacher. The 5 year old who “enjoyed conversation”, “helping his parents” and “making up scenarios about Cal-trans” was Travis Brown, Larry’s son.

Identical Smirnoff vodka pints were arriving on a steady basis and ceremoniously arranged in a stylish heap in front of the dumpsters. The Warhol-esque art piece included some unusual brands of the devil’s distilled spirits, including cinnamon schnapps called “Hot Damn!”

While we had fun hypothesizing at the imbibers’ expense, we were bewildered. We tried to make sense of something that is not open to intellectual interpretation.

There was an underlying sadness and concern for these poor souls. The bright red Smirnoff labels silently screamed for help. The color of blood is a reminder of the many people who have lost their lives to the callous actions of drunk drivers.

It is one thing to enjoy the shelter of the oaks along our roadways while consuming alcohol. Leave your garbage behind if you must. However, it is not acceptable to drink and drive our twisty roads, putting yourself, your family and our neighbors in danger.

Please, whoever you are - DO NOT DRINK AND DRIVE! We care about you. Please care about us.