Lost Coast images
Safeguarding the Lost Coast
By Amy Karagiannakis
When Professor Stephen Sears talks about the Lost Coast, his words carry both awe and urgency. “We talk about nature and wilderness and the benefits of ecological systems all the time,” he says. “But the scale of wildlands has to be experienced firsthand to comprehend how small humans seem in comparison, and to understand the enormous footprint humans have made in those places.”
In spring 2024, Sears led ten Landscape Architecture undergraduate and graduate students deep into California’s remote King Range National Conservation Area, the first national public protected wilderness area in the United States. For a week, the group and an experienced local guide hiked the wildest stretch of coastline in the continental U.S., camping in wind and rain, crossing icy creeks, and timing their routes to the tides along the black sand coast. “This is one of the last and largest wildland places on the continent,” Sears said. The Lost Coast trip was the first in a three-workshop series on climate change and its impacts on wildlands.
Students were tasked with witnessing, documenting, and safeguarding the threatened wildlands, producing essays, photographs, and speculative designs for a dwelling that could house a “guardian” to live within and protect the area. The resulting concepts ranged widely—some envisioned guardians focused on research and ecological monitoring, while others imagined more forceful approaches, including private security forces or drone-assisted patrols. The diversity of ideas reflected not only the students’ creativity but also the complexity of balancing protection, access, and policy in wild places.
Since the studio took place, the country has experienced a political shift that led to significant federal policy changes, including the downsizing of the Department of the Interior and the expansion of logging in national forests. These developments continue to shape the curriculum and classroom conversations. “Landscape architecture contributes to shaping public space,” Sears said. “That means the work is inherently political…it’s good to have an awareness and an engagement in what is happening in our public discourse.”
When asked if he could bring one experience from the Lost Coast to our readers—or even policymakers—Sears was quick to recall a restoration site planted with redwoods twenty years ago. “The redwood trees are this big around,” he said, holding his hands in a narrow one-inch diameter circle. “And then you see these [old-growth] trees that are 300 feet tall. It takes people…dedicating their careers doing this work for seemingly modest outcomes.” The role of the landscape architect as a steward of the environment can seem daunting in this respect, but the idea that creating something that will outlast one’s lifetime can be a powerful motivator.
The inherent vulnerability of humans in remote, wild landscapes like the Lost Coast was ever apparent. Along certain stretches of beach, there are signs that say, “Never turn your back on the ocean.” This is due to sudden, powerful sneaker waves that have been known to sweep people away without warning. Navigating the coast safely requires an acute awareness of tidal patterns—because what lies ahead six hours from now could determine whether a path is passable or perilous.
For Sears, what made the trip truly remarkable were the students themselves. “This field trip was perfect,” he shared. “The students were completely resilient. They were flexible, they were stalwart. They climbed mountains with asthma… hiked in the rain and they hiked in the wind…some had never been camping before. And they were amazing. The students and their attitudes and their curiosity and their engagement made it what it was.”
Thanks to robust alumni support, every student traveled at no cost. It is because of the generosity of the department’s alumni and friends that studio trips like this are possible. “We couldn’t do these kinds of studios if students were expected to pay,” expressed Sears. “Because we’re given these opportunities…it’s our obligation to tell people what we discovered, what we experienced.”