Caspar Village
Have you ever raced by in your car on your way to Fort Bragg from Mendocino, California, or vice versa, and wondered about that little village you just spotted near the beach? I love the vista that Caspar incorporates. Some have called this tiny place a ghost town, and they might just be right.
Caspar was first settled in 1857 by Siegfried Caspar, and this little spot on the map soon became a significant logging town, operating between 1864 and 1955. The land was then sold by the multiple heirs to the Caspar Lumber Company. Eventually the greatest portion of the village was taken over by the Caspar Cattle Company and then immediately put up for sale.
Today Caspar features a church and community center. To the casual tourist, the village may not seem to offer much. But to the local, or to the individual ready to explore, Caspar offers a lot of delights.
I love driving by Caspar. The mists hover over the town, and the light filters through the clouds exposing the charming steeple and village that huddles by the sea. Caspar beach is a delightful place to spend some quiet moments with a friend, and Point Cabrillo Lighthouse serves as a wonderful destination for the casual hiker. Jughandle Creek Farm lies just across the highway and has served for much merriment over the years for my family.
I love to get out of the car and just wander through the streets of Caspar. There are many little rural vignettes that catch my eye and make my mind wander back to simpler times.
This little baby blue farmhouse makes me think of cows crunching grass in the field, laundry swaying in the ocean breeze, and goats cavorting in the meadow.
Isn’t this a bucolic landscape. I love the leaf-strewn road that leads to the sea. This abandoned farmhouse conjures up all kinds of curiosity for me: Who lived here? Why did they leave? How lovely to have been able to throw open one’s window onto the glories of a coastal sea-breeze morning.
“I’m going to make everything around me beautiful — that will be my life.”
Coastal roses
Seaside grasses
Abandoned farmhouses
I love this old farmstead by the sea. The picket fence is chained. The house is set in an overgrown field guarded by the old water tower in the grove. This was once a home. You can almost hear the laughter of children as you pause to enjoy the ivy covering all reachable surfaces. Could it be that someone is really there peeking out from the dust-encrusted French windows?
“He was a big man, says the size of his shoes
on a pile of broken dishes by the house;
a tall man too, says the length of the bed
in an upstairs room; and a good, God-fearing man,
says the Bible with a broken back
on the floor below the window, dusty with sun;
but not a man for farming, say the fields
cluttered with boulders and the leaky barn.
A woman lived with him, says the bedroom wall
papered with lilacs and the kitchen shelves
covered with oilcloth, and they had a child,
says the sandbox made from a tractor tire.
Money was scarce, say the jars of plum preserves
and canned tomatoes sealed in the cellar hole.
And the winters cold, say the rags in the window frames.
It was lonely here, says the narrow country road.
Something went wrong, says the empty house
in the weed-choked yard. Stones in the fields
say he was not a farmer; the still-sealed jars
in the cellar say she left in a nervous haste.
And the child? Its toys are strewn in the yard
like branches after a storm—a rubber cow,
a rusty tractor with a broken plow,
a doll in overalls. Something went wrong, they say.”
Is it any wonder that this charming village inspired a painting? There is this one particular scene that always captivates me. The church rises up out of shadow and sunlight to spread its countenance over the sleepy village. The crisp sea air fills my lungs and the scene inspires my creativity. Here is the first painting of Caspar that I managed to paint.
For those who are interested in watercolor, this painting is interesting from a technical standpoint. I was able to take water and basically erase the entirety of this painting and then repaint over it. It’s hard to understand all my motives at this point, but I just remember it seemed too harsh. By erasing it and repainting, I was able to capture more of the elusive misty quality that Caspar exudes.
It is also interesting that the Arches watercolor paper was able to withstand such heavy-handedness. I share that little story with you to encourage you. Often people are intimidated by watercolor, thinking you have to get everything right the first time. This is an example of an experiment, and I’m delighted with the result.
