“He ran her over, screamed at her, beat her with his paddle, jumped on her board, grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her under water.”
Morro Bay, CA, is a sleepy, guano encrusted fishing village on a vast natural bay with a cooling onshore summer flow that draws herds of diabetic, Croc slapping Okies from the likes of Kelly Slater’s Lemoore and the stultifying heat of the Great Central Valley. Just a quick Subaru trip up Highway 1 from California Polytechnic State University, it is centrally situated on the Pacfiic edge of the windscoured mystical Central Coast- a bucolic, undulating landscape dotted with black angus and live oaks, spined by the Santa Lucia mountain range that gives way to blankets of vineyards and horse ranches eastward. “Not LA Not the Bay” the bumper stickers inform. Surf curmudgeons recall it as spawning iconic and dazzling recluses like Dave Parmenter and Nate Tyler from among its gnarled crew of underground chargers and journeyman shapers hardened into cyncism by ephemeral swells and nuking NW spring winds.
Morro Bay is widely recognized for the 581 foot volcanic cinder plug known as “the Rock” or the “Gibraltar of the Pacific” that sits furthest west in a chain of cinder plugs known as “The Sisters.” The towering peak is a sacred site for the Salinan and Chumash tribes, a peregrine falcon sanctuary, and stands sentry over the bay-entrance to the south. In the purpled evening light the Rock casts its looming shadow over the lineup below- a swirling cove churning shapeless peaks that form and reform up the strand of inconstant sandbars. It’s prominence and abundant free parking has made it destination primo for vulnerable adult learners- Cal Poly co-eds on Costco soft-tops, hull-curious hipsters, early-retired silver fox SUPers and the occasional goat boater, all brave it’s icy water and its propensity for shark attacks (even on Christmas Eve). But in this moment it is Trump’s Fascist Takeover™ casting shadow over the communal stoke melee.
Andy Gustafson, 59, was stand up paddle boarding Saturday morning, August 23rd, when four women gathered to live, laugh and love their best life, paddling into the misty morning to get their equal share of 2-3 foot windswell. One of the women became entangled with Mr. Gustafson as she dropped in on his wave when, unfortunately, “he ran her over, screamed at her, beat her with his paddle, jumped on her board, grabbed her by the hair, and shoved her under water.”
“You know da rulez,” Mr. Gustafson may have said.
Mr. Gustafson was arrested by California State Park police and transported to San Luis Obispo County jail where he was booked “on felony charges of attempted murder and assault with a deadly weapon, and misdemeanor charges of assault and battery.” His bail set at $500,000, has kept him in lock-up. Yet, a mere week ago Cashless Bail may have permitted his release. SLO county jail is overseen by pro-gun extremist Sheriff Ian Parkinson, notorious for his refusal to enforce state lockdown orders during the COVID-19 pandemic and the arresting of Black Lives Matter protestors exercising free speech for racial justice in the middle of the 101 freeway during the morning commute.
It is unknown if Mr. Gustafson is a member of the Salinan or Chumash people or a Sierra Club Guardian of the Peregrines, and if this has anything to do with his ongoing detainment. And so far there is no word if Senator Chris Van Hollen (D-Maryland) intends to fly to San Luis Obispo to visit with Mr. Gustafson, as the Morro Bay Man remains separated from his family in county lock up; the senator’s office was not reached for comment.
