Or on any beach, for that matter. These massive holes can wreak havoc on microhabitats, cause beach erosion, and even claim human lives.
I’m a digital masochist. It’s coming up on two years since I left The Bold Italic after my ownership negotiations fell through in demoralizing, enraging fashions; that series of unfortunate events was the reason this entire publication was birthed in less than a month — something I’m endlessly grateful for.
Occasionally, I like to visit the TBI, peering through a sideways glance. See what the editors are up to. Dissect how they’ve destroyed the website. Roll my eyes at the fluff pieces that litter its homepage.
But a recent episode of online self-harm left me wide-eyed and dumbfounded: a published piece that celebrated an environmental atrocity.
Anointed a “Hole Party,” participants, who can attend for free, are encouraged to dig (as the name would suggest) holes and trenches large enough to stand in. These deep wells and snaking canals punctuated and latticed Ocean Beach in San Francisco on March 23rd, unearthed by a smattering of what one could only describe as Burning Man-like characters, who (very likely) work in some tech sector.
The Bold Italic published pictures pedestaling the glowing faces, and quirky outfits — because, as of late, the editors behind the once-beloved publication believe they’re a representative of Vogue, not a journalistic outfit responsible for shedding a spotlight on local issues and observations that made the online magazine adored in the first place — and, as you’d expect, the human-made massive holes.
Participants stood in the holes. People took pictures in the holes. They set bonfires inside a hole. Someone ate a sandwich inside a hole.
The piece’s author waxed poetic that these “holes are gone, but their memory remains”; one of the tenants of a Hole Party is to fill them back in after all the fun is said and done.
“May your holes bring peace and happiness to all who dig,” the writer continued. But what they failed to emphasize is that these holes, while objectively jovial to create, aren’t “gone,” per se — because their environmental impact is far more than surface level deep.
Sand, no matter the moisture level it contains, is quite unstable. It consists of layers, known as “beds” or “stradas,” with deeper sheets hundreds, thousands, if not millions of years old. Akin to rings on a tree, each bed offers a time stamp on the surrounding environment when it was formed — unique, valuable, and geologically important. But when humans meddle with these layers, cutting through them with dull shovels and casting earth to the side, that insight is all lost.
When they’re refilled, all these layers are homogenized — fossilized creatures mixed up; strada-specific microorganisms are rearranged, potentially in ways not conducive to their survival; certain invertebrates living within stradas that rely on certain microenvironments are affected… and likely killed — in unnatural ways.
Digging these massive holes and refilling them is like trying to put pushed-out toothpaste back into its tube.
In this enmeshing of stradas is also another environmental tragedy: beach erosion. Because we live on a mortal coil where, quite literally, every motion is dictated by gravity, the sandy layers on beaches have had eons to compress. These layers are compacted over time — by the weight of tides, crashing waves, and the omnipresent reality of gravity itself. Dense sand stradas are essential for preventing beach erosion, all while providing necessary support for marine flora and fauna to live on, in, and through.
By disturbing these layers, that density is destroyed, fluffed by shovels. A compacting shovel pat pales to what thousands of years of tidal forces and gravity can offer. As a result, holes filled by way of human hands can easily be eroded by ebbing and flowing tides and blowing winds. Given that sand is one of the most used natural resources — second only to water — by humans, we, in a literal sense, can’t afford to lose it.
Sand erosion isn’t subjected only to the affected stradas, either. Disturbed sand beds destabilized surrounding layers, leaving those affected layers also susceptible to beach erosion… and putting nearby habitats at risk of vanishing.
Unbeknownst to many, sea turtles travel to and nest along San Francisco Bay Area beaches — the latter activity is relatively rare. Three different species of sea turtle, which includes the largest shelled reptile species known to science, the leatherback sea turtle, have been spotted in the SF Bay Area; a story of an endangered Olive Ridley sea turtle captivated news outlets in 2009 when it presumed the animal floated thousands of miles from Mexico, washing up on Stinson Beach still alive.
Sea turtle nests are hard to detect; female turtles pat the sand level after burying their eggs feet below the sand. A frivolous act of digging a massive hole while holding a canned cocktail could rupture a sea turtle nest, killing the hundred-plus eggs usually laid by a gravid female. (Granted, no sea turtle nests have been observed on Ocean Beach [per my sleuthing], but wouldn’t it be a shame to learn of an SF sea turtle nest… because someone unknowingly dug it up?)
Oh! Let’s not forget the inadvertent — or purposeful — burying of litter when refilling these holes. It’s estimated over 10 million pounds of plastic products wash up on beaches around the world annually. A study from Florida State University found there can be as many as 1.8 million microplastics per square meter of beach. Humans churning up beaches can release trapped microplastics back into oceans, as well as bury larger pieces of plastic.
Oh! Digging these massive trenches can prove deadly, to boot. In 2022, a man died at a New Jersey beach when a hole he was digging collapsed on him. Dying from such a collapse can happen quickly. A Virginia man died on a state beach in 2014 when a tunnel he was digging between two holes he’d previously dug collapsed on him. First responders managed to extract him within fifteen minutes after the collapse, though the man was pronounced dead upon rescue. Conversely, if you were buried by an avalanche but extracted within fifteen minutes of the event, there’s a 92% chance you’d survive.
The writer responsible for the piece noted in their writing that well over a hundred people, as well as some doggos — “I saw more than 140 people, 12 dogs, 2 babies, 16 kids and seven senior citizens scattered about” — participated in the triannual event. “Everywhere I turned I saw smiles and camaraderie,” they continued. “I met only one asshole.”
I’d wager that in Mother Nature’s discerning gaze, she saw more than 140 selfish jerks.
Feature image: Courtesy of Facebook
Good work. You left out the little girl that was killed digging on a Florida beach just recently. It’s just not a smart thing to do. Very timely article.
Every summer when I was growing up, my parents rented a house in Aptos, CA, for a family vacation. One summer, two boys around middle school were digging a hole. It collapsed, burying one of the boys. Everyone around began frantically digging. My brother-in-law found his foot and managed to drag the boy out from there. Thankfully, the boy survived, but it was close. The frantic screams of his mother were blood-curdling. Anyone who treats this as fun and games must have the maturity of a middle schooler.