Since the late 1960s, highway signs pointing to Bolinas have been torn down by locals. Nestled along the rugged California coastline, Bolinas—like other small towns—exists in a delicate balance between their tight-knit community and the outside world’s growing fascination.

Known for its tranquil lagoon, home to numerous birds and harbor seals, and close proximity to striking sand dunes and scenic hikes, it’s easy to see why Bolinas draws visitors. While stunning beaches and natural beauty certainly add to its charm, ultimately it is the community and the local people—fishers, artists, small business owners, surfers, and others alike— who give Bolinas its unique spirit.

"We have such a strong sense of community, art, and culture," says Sadie Mann, a lifelong Bolinas local who has worked at nearly every small business in town. She describes the local atmosphere as familial, an aspect many residents fiercely protect. Ava Amanson, another Bolinas resident who has worked at Smiley’s Saloon for years, echoes this sentiment: "It wouldn't be Bolinas without the locals here."

However, this unique culture is increasingly challenged by outside pressures. As the town’s innate beauty attracts more visitors, the balance between maintaining its authentic character and accommodating an economy supported by tourism becomes a contentious issue.

While many locals are wary of an influx of visitors, they also acknowledge that tourism is a current economic necessity. “All of the local businesses definitely count on tourism,” Sadie admits. “We do need them to sustain all of our local businesses.”

In the late fall and early winter of 2024, Bolinas was temporarily closed to visitors due to potential contamination of the soil and water below the bluffs. Trisha Fontan, a Bolinas resident who wrote her thesis at Dominican University on sustainable community development in West Marin, elaborates on this economic reality. “When the beach was closed, everybody suffered. All the businesses downtown suffered,” she says, noting that during the winter months, these businesses depend primarily on locals. Tourism, while a strain in other ways, provides economic relief, although the sustainability of this model is questionable.

Unlike the neighboring Stinson Beach, which was developed with tourism in mind—featuring parking lots, bathrooms, and lifeguards—Bolinas was never structured to handle large waves of visitors. “Bolinas wasn't set up as a state park or a national park,” Trisha explains. “There’s no lifeguards and there’s no bathrooms, and that puts a drain on everybody.”

While tourism brings certain economic benefits, it also introduces tensions around housing, environmental sustainability, the surf community, and other elements of cultural preservation. Perhaps the most contentious issue surrounding tourism in Bolinas is its effect on housing. Many locals have been forced to leave due to rising property values and a surge of second-home buyers.

“I've seen a lot of my friends throughout the years have to leave their homes because the landlords decide to sell it to someone who's looking to buy a second home,” Sadie explains.

However, Trisha emphasizes that not all second-homeowners are problematic. “The problem is not second homes. The problem is vacation rentals,” she says. “If you have a second home in a community, you still feel like you need to support that community. You want the grocery store to stay open. You want the hardware store to stay open.” She goes on, “But if you're just here for the week, that drain on the system causes huge issues.”
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As more properties are turned into short-term rentals, via the convenience of apps like VRBO and AirBnb, long-term housing options for locals dwindle. “The reason that people are so upset that locals can't find housing is that the way that you survive in a small town is because you have a really strong community, and you have people that you can depend on,” Trisha explains.

But that communal support hinges on having a population that is present and engaged. While second homeowners can be valuable members of the community, Trisha emphasizes that being a part of Bolinas means more than just owning property—it requires a commitment to the land and the people. “There’s a sort of symbiotic relationship between small towns and tourists, but there’s also a symbiotic relationship between an environmentally delicate town and the people who live there,” she says. “If you don’t live here all the time and you just come and you pop in and you pop out, you may not understand what that looks like.”
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This understanding extends beyond social dynamics—it means respecting the land itself. Bolinas is an ecologically sensitive area, home to a diverse array of wildlife and precious natural resources. Living here, even part-time, comes with a responsibility to engage in local conservation efforts, from protecting local species to preserving the wetlands.

Trisha stresses how small, seemingly harmless changes can disrupt the local ecosystem. Bolinas was once a quail refuge, but human infrastructure has increasingly encroached on their habitat. “Putting a fence in your yard that you bought for your vacation rental that goes all the way to the ground doesn’t allow for the quails to pass from your yard to the yard next to them,” she explains. “Now, all of a sudden, the quails have to go on the street to get to the open field because you put a fence up.” Even the smallest changes to the landscape can unravel the delicate balance that sustains Bolinas' unique ecosystem.
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Likewise, the town’s few small businesses rely on a dedicated customer base, making it all the more important for homeowners to support the local economy rather than treating Bolinas as a temporary getaway.

For some locals, the distinction between second homes and short-term rentals is significant—one can represent a long-term investment in the community, while the other risks turning neighborhoods into ephemeral residences. In a town as small as Bolinas, 1600 or less, community is everything. Unlike locations with extensive public services, residents here rely heavily on one another for support.

“When you live in a small town, you depend on your neighbors,” Trisha notes. “It’s just a fact, because you don’t have any municipalities. We don’t have our own police department. We don’t have our own public works department.”

This sense of interdependence fosters a deep sense of belonging and protection over the town. As Johnny Ratcliffe, a lifelong Bolinas surfer, describes it: “My favorite part about being from Bolinas is the freedom we got growing up and how close the community is.” However, the influx of visitors who do not understand this communal dynamic has easily created friction.

For decades, Bolinas residents have enjoyed the town’s secluded nature for many reasons. One being, its consistent surf has cultivated a dedicated and protective surf community. However, the scene is shifting as more visitors seek out the area’s waves.

Through the digitalization of surf reports, GPS systems, and the internet, Bolinas has faced a radical shift in surf culture.
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Likewise, the town’s few small businesses rely on a dedicated customer base, making it all the more important for homeowners to support the local economy rather than treating Bolinas as a temporary getaway.

Johnny notes how this increase of visiting surfers has affected the local surf scene. “You need people enforcing it. Otherwise, it'll just get blown out of proportion, which is kind of what happened downtown. You don’t see a lot of locals surfing downtown anymore unless it’s really good.”

With no surf industry or major competitions shaping the scene, Johnny sees the Bolinas surf community as uniquely self-driven. Surfing in Bolinas, he explains, requires dedication. “It takes a lot more commitment. There's not a hundred kids that are just in the water because it's easy—it's cold and it's wet and you've got to put your time in and earn respect from local people.”

This tension between locals and visiting surfers highlights a broader complex issue: maintaining identity in the face of increased exposure. Locals aren’t against visitors per se, but they do expect a certain level of respect. Many longtime residents emphasize the importance of understanding the town’s limitations and culture before arriving.

Trisha offers some practical advice: “Take your trash with you. There’s no public dumpsters.” She also reminds readers, with limited available parking spaces in the town, to respect people's driveways.

There are some clear don’ts. As she puts it: “Playing your music too loud. Having your [aggressive] dog off-leash when there are dogs who live here every day.”Johnny adds, if someone is to come to Bolinas, “Support local businesses.”

Ava simplifies it further: “Respect it the way you would like people to respect your town.”Respect is a fundamental virtue of Bolinas. Just as local surfers earn respect by being courteous and hardworking, tourists can demonstrate respect by honoring everyone and everything—locals, wildlife, parking spaces, and waves alike.

Bolinas stands at a crossroads, balancing the upsides of tourism with the preservation of its culture and environment. While the town benefits economically from visitors, the strain on its infrastructure, resources, and housing market is undeniable.“

Keeping the integrity of the quietness and the slow-paced local vibe, to the community, is most important,” Sadie reflects.

As Bolinas continues to navigate its complicated relationship with tourism, the question stands: How can it maintain its unique, independent nature while sustaining itself economically? Part of the answer for now, as many locals suggest, lies in mindful tourism—one that prioritizes respect, sustainability, and a deep appreciation for the town’s special way of life.