10 MONTEREY COUNTY WEEKLY march 30-april 5, 2023 www.montereycountyweekly.com news Is the surf up, or down? In the case of Monterey-Salinas Transit’s SURF! project—a six-mile, bus-only roadway contemplated west of Highway 1 from Marina to Sand City, that remains an open question. Hanging in the balance is a plan for rapid transit, on zero-emission buses, from Marina to Sand City that would bypass Highway 1 traffic going south the morning and north in the evening and, hopefully, provide hospitality industry and other workers who live in Marina or Salinas a reliable and faster option to reach their jobs via public transit. MST’s board approved the project in 2021, along with exemptions from the California Environmental Quality Act, aka CEQA, that would allow the project to move forward without an environmental impact report. Those exemptions, however, were predicated on state Senate Bill 288, which sunsetted at the end of 2022. However, another state law, SB 922, took effect Jan. 1 of this year, and among other things, it allows for CEQA exemptions for rapid transportation projects. MST’s board adopted new CEQA exemptions for the project pursuant to SB 922 on March 13, but MST General Manager Carl Sedoryk says that wasn’t a reapproval of the project—it was making sure those new exemptions were applied to it. (MST is currently defending itself in litigation with two parties over its approval for the project under CEQA.) But perhaps the most consequential buzzsaw ahead for SURF! is the California Coastal Commission, which enforces a different law: the California Coastal Act. And while the board of the commission is an inherently political body—it’s composed of appointed Choppy Waves MST’s embattled SURF! project is entering a decisive gauntlet: the Coastal Commission. By David Schmalz As cleanup continues in the community of Pajaro, where evacuation orders lifted on Thursday, March 23, the town looks anything but clean. Streets are full of mountains of trash, with broken furniture, refrigerators and toys covered in mud blocking parking spaces and making it difficult for cars to transit. That is the aftermath of the widespread flood that left much of Pajaro underwater on March 11 after the Pajaro River levee broke, leaving many residents away from their homes for 12 days, and effectively stranding those who refused to leave. On Monday, March 27, farmworker Marisela Ortiz Merino is on Cayetano Street taking pictures of her dad’s truck before calling the insurance company. She and her parents, with her sister’s family, lived in a garage that was converted into a two-bedroom, which they rent from relatives. The small home now is bare bones: no appliances, furniture, exposed wall frames. The kitchen cabinets and several mugs and glasses on a fixed table are the only traces that someone lived here. Their home is uninhabitable. Ortiz Merino says in Spanish they are all staying in a room in Salinas. “We lost everything,” she says. “We have no place to live.” The family has been looking for a new home for over a week, but rents are through the roof: $2,500 or more per month. Ortiz Merino says it is hard to see everything they worked so hard for gone in a second: “It breaks my heart.” “The government knows that thanks to us [farmworkers], the country stands up,” Ortiz Merino adds. “Without farmworkers, the country collapses.” On March 23, dozens of families returned to check on their homes and belongings for the first time since the flood. Ruth Ruiz and her mom, Maria Ponce, opened the gates and walked into their homes. Ponce’s home, which is at a higher elevation, had only a little water in the laundry area. Ruiz and her mom removed sandbags in front of Ruiz’s apartment door. They went inside, and Ruiz wasn’t as lucky: Water had gotten into her one-bedroom unit. The place has a musky smell, mud and water on the carpet, and mold was growing on her shoes. “I can’t come home,” Ruiz says. She thinks it will take months before she can again occupy her unit. The insurance company has to come in and assess the damage—something that won’t happen until the beginning of April. Ruiz was keeping her emotions in check, but breaks down when she reunites with her sisters. They hug each other and cry. Despite the swirling emotions, Ayerette Ruiz has a narrow smile—she is relieved to discover her home is OK. “We are happy to be home and start our cleanup process,” she says. “You never really realize what Pajaro means to you until you don’t have Pajaro.” While residents and business owners face challenges moving back in, the Monterey County Board of Supervisors voted on March 28 to approve a temporary eviction moratorium for Pajaro tenants impacted by the flood, in effect through Aug. 31. Also on March 28, Gov. Gavin Newsom asked President Joe Biden to issue a federal disaster declaration for Monterey County—more than two weeks after the flood. With no federal aid presence, the county opened a disaster assistance center in Watsonville on March 29, that will operate until at least April 7. Ruth Ruiz, left, and Maria Ponce, right, remove sandbags in front of Ruiz’s door on March 23 in Pajaro. Ruiz’s one-bedroom apartment had water and mud inside. Flood Stage Pajaro residents return home to face an uphill battle in resettling their old homes. By Celia Jiménez An image from Monterey-Salinas Transit shows what the SURF! busway would look like, running parallel to Highway 1 along six miles of the Monterey Peninsula. “We lost everything.” Daniel Dreifuss Courtesy MST Waves, continued on page 12
RkJQdWJsaXNoZXIy MjAzNjQ1NQ==