East Bay Walls
At first glance the East Bay Walls do not look all that mysterious. Back on the East Coast, where I’m from, there are tons of stone walls. In my home state of Virginia, especially in the piedmont’s horse country, mortarless stacked stone walls—built in the same fashion as those in California—run for miles on end. There are tons of similar walls in the Northeast, too. Farms and wooded areas in Massachusetts, Connecticut, and New York have stone walls running in various directions almost as far as the eye can see. In the cold months, when the forest is a depressing brown and gray and trees have no leaves, you really get an appreciation for how endless these walls seem to be.
Pioneer Walls
Back east, at least in New York, locals have dubbed the endless stone walls “pioneer walls.” And there is no mystery about them. Similar to the aforementioned walls down in Virginia, the rocks came from fields and pastures. Early settlers cleared these fields either for livestock or to grow crops.. Though you will find occasional large rock piles on old properties from these clearing operations, mostly they were stacked into walls. The walls served as crude property boundaries. They also corralled livestock.
None of this seems to be the case with the East Bay Walls. In fact, they are called mystery walls because no one knows who built them. Also, the purpose of the walls, as well as when they were built is a mystery. Adding to the mystery, the East Bay Walls allegedly stood in place before the arrival of the Spanish in California. According to some writings, the walls even predate the Ohlone Indians, who lived in the area. The indigenous Ohlone people were hunters and gatherers. They did not graze livestock and did not build stone walls.
Who Built The East Bay Walls?
The East Bay Walls mostly range from about one to three feet in height, with no mortar between the stones. They reach five feet high in some spots. In certain areas the walls seem to take on an almost ceremonial appearance. As mentioned, the walls run for 50 miles. They run along the hilltops overlooking the Bay Area. But they are by no means continuous. They take off in various directions atop the hills—seemingly without rhyme or reason. There are long stretches of walls and then there are small sections that start and stop and seem almost pointless.
A lot of mainstream historians act as if the East Bay Walls are not mysterious at all. Much like the walls back east, the orthodox view is that ranchers and farmers built the walls in the mid-1800s. A lot of locals, too, play down the mystery. And maybe they are right.
Personally, I’m a fan of some of the more outlandish theories behind the walls. No, I don’t think they are paranormal as some think. And I don’t believe aliens built them, either. But Lemurians? That’s right up my alley! Or how about this: English explorer and privateer Sir Francis Drake dropped off colonists in California and they built the walls for some unknown purpose. I can go along with that!
I’m also partial to the idea that the Chinese built the East Bay Walls. Not Chinese laborers in the 1800s, but rather, a theoretical Chinese colony that reached California as early as the 1200s.
Seeing Them for Myself
During a May 2023 stay in Morgan Hill, California, I was able to see the East Bay Walls first hand. I made the 45-minute drive to Ed R. Levin County Park in Milpitas where I reached the walls via the Monument Peak Trail. The hike to Monument Peak is challenging. In total, the hike is close to ten miles and picks up 2,400 feet of elevation gain. There is no shade to be had along the exposed trail, either. That said, there are stunning views of the Bay Area all the way to the top. Once you get high enough, you can see San Francisco to the north and San Jose to the south. So, the scenery and majestic viewpoints make the hike a worthwhile effort. But I didn’t hike straight uphill for miles just to take in the views. I did it to see the East Bay Walls.
Shortly before reaching Monument Peak, the mysterious walls began to appear. I explored a number of sections of the walls. Sadly for me, I could not make sense out of them—their purpose, their builders, and the mystery behind them. But it was quite an experience to see them in person.
And So it Goes With God
After walking long stretches along the walls photographing and studying them, I took a seat on a rock and got lost in my thoughts. I pulled my water bottle out of my backpack and took several refreshing drinks. I asked myself why I preferred thinking of ancient Lemurians building these walls rather than ranchers who had cleared their fields. Then it occurred to me—Lemurians make for a better story.
I thought back to the novel and movie Life of Pi. If you are unfamiliar with the story, the main character Pi gets shipwrecked and goes on an epic adventure. Many years later, he recounted his experiences to the authorities. However, he gives them two very different versions of the account. One version is fantastic. Pi has animal companions including a tiger in this story. The other version is mundane and his companions are humans.
After Pi recounted the two tales, he asks his interviewers: “So tell me, since it makes no factual difference to you and you can't prove the question either way, which story do you prefer? Which is the better story, the story with animals or the story without animals?”
One of his interviewers, Mr. Okamoto, responds: “That's an interesting question.”
The other interviewer, Mr. Chiba, says: “The story with animals.”
Mr. Okamoto agrees: “Yes. The story with animals is the better story.”
Pi then says: “Thank you. And so it goes with God.”
According to the website Sparknotes, the point of this exchange in the book is to show that:
“While belief in God might not make factual sense, it makes emotional sense: Faith uplifts the mind and spirit and makes the world a better place. Like stories told by religions, Pi’s story with the animals highlights miracles and serves, at heart, as a story of love between a boy and a tiger.”
Maybe I’m a Dreamer, But…
As a sat on the rock looking at the East Bay Walls, sucking down some more water, I thought of Pi’s better story. It is the same way with the East Bay Walls, I thought. Yeah, ranchers probably had the walls constructed after their help cleared their fields of rocks. But since there is no record, and it cannot be proven, I prefer thinking Lemurians did it. Or Chinese colonists in the 1200s. Or Sir Francis Drake. Or Vikings. Anything but the boring, mundane answer—the answer that says the walls in California are essentially the same as those in Loudoun County, Virginia and Ulster County, New York. Screw that. I’ll take “The Work of a Lost Civilization” for $1,000, please.
For me, a world filled with mystery is a better place than one where snarky academics already know everything. A world where Bigfoot might exist is a better world than one where Bigfoot has been proven not to exist. It is better to believe the Loch Ness Monster might be out there than to think it is just the imaginings of gullible people. And a world in which the East Bay Walls are mysterious and might have been stacked by pre-Columbian Chinese explorers or even Lemurians is an infinitely better place to live than a world in which rocks were moved to make way for livestock.
