Caused by nature basically saying "Hey rich people, don't build your fucking houses so close to my ocean,” the legendary Sunken City of San Pedro is truly one of the most magnificent wonders of the California coast.
Once a prosperous beach front community on LA's most Southern tip, the sunken city is real estate success story gone horribly wrong. Rich home owners at the time realized way too late that the ground, and their housing developments, were rapidly sliding into the blue abyss of the Pacific.
Despite their best efforts, the oceanfront homes would ultimately sink, causing the land to be evacuated and abandoned for decades. Now, only the ruins and LOTS of unstable rock mounds remain.
Getting in: The area itself is a bit unsafe, so getting in takes some real James Bond skills. In fact, it's currently illegal and considered trespassing to even be in the area, so put on your ski mask and climb through a hole in the gate, jump a fence or scale a steep cliff. believe me, it’s worth it.
Once you actually make it to the other side, prepare for an onslaught of visual awesomeness that hits your senses like a ton of bricks. Remnants of house foundations, broken water pipes, and lost manhole covers abound a zig zag of dirt paths across the broken rocks.
With the Pacific as a backdrop, it’s truly a visually stunning sight to see, but the real star of the show here is the graffiti; that sweet art that comes from a can. Every rock and crevice is tagged, creating a kaleidoscope of colorful patterns and designs. It's quite amazing.
Even the palm trees get in on the action, sporting fresh coats of paint across their rough and leafy exteriors. The whole things looks like an outdoor art gallery and to see something so colorful in this type of setting is pretty incredible.
There's also great people watching once you get inside, as the place brings in an eclectic crowd of stoners, teenage drinkers, people trying ciarettes for the first time, hikers, families and thrill seekers.
HOW THE HELL DID THAT HAPPEN?
In 1929, the problems began, and a nice chunk of the area began unexplainably sliding into the sea. Measured at a slip of 11 inches a day, by the mid 1930s most of the area was lost to the jaws of the Ocean and any plans to continue building were quickly abandoned. Luckily, all of this action was noticed early and the houses in the area (sans two unfortunate victims) were able to be moved and salvaged before meeting their untimely deaths.
Though no longer moving like it used to, geologists have labeled the phenomenon a “slump," whereas a coherent mass of loosely consolidated materials or rock layers move a short distance down a slope.