CITY HALL SKETCH : Sand Value Recapture

Have we gotta deal for you. Some pure, uncut, Hermosa Beach...sand.

While other beaches watch their shorelines disappear with every storm, Hermosa's sand just keeps piling up like that stash of reusable grocery bags you buy each time because you kept forgetting them at home. It's accumulating against the Strand wall. It's creating lumps in the volleyball courts. It's basically the municipal equivalent of having too much money in your checking account—except we can't just transfer it to savings.

So naturally, Mayor Rob Saemann and City Manager Steve Napolitano floated an idea at Monday's council meeting: What if we sold it?

Imagine the pitch meeting. "Gentlemen, I've identified a valuable natural resource we've been sitting on. It's locally sourced, sustainably harvested, and we have more than we know what to do with. I'm talking, of course, about sand."

The beauty of the scheme is that LA County's Department of Beaches and Harbors has identified five beaches that need sand replenishment. And here's the kicker: our sand meets Coastal Commission grain requirements. That's right—even sand needs a resume in California. Wrong grain size? Sorry, your sand doesn't qualify. It probably needs two years of experience and a bachelor's degree too.

Now, you might think this would be straightforward. Beach A has excess sand. Beaches B through F need sand. Beach A's sand grains check all the boxes. Let's make a deal.

But this is government we're talking about.

Napolitano told the council that the city is "in talks" with the county, which in gov-speak means they're "trying to get a calendar day so we can meet and talk about it again." He's currently in "follow-up mode" with the county—presumably leaving voicemails that sound increasingly desperate: "Hey, it's Steve again. Still got that sand. Give me a call back. We should really discuss this sand situation. The sand isn't going anywhere. Well, actually, it is—it keeps accumulating. That's kind of the problem. But it's the good stuff. Call me."

Mayor Rob Saemann wanted to know what would happen if the city just sold the sand directly and pocketed the cash. Napolitano gently steered him back to reality: any deal would likely involve trading sand for county beach maintenance services rather than straight cash. Which makes sense—you can't just start a side hustle selling municipal sand on Craigslist. "Artisanal Beach Sand, Never Used, $500 Per Cubic Yard, Serious Inquiries Only."

The county currently maintains our beach under a contract tied to profit-sharing from Parking Lot C, but they've refused to do additional contouring beyond a few designated days because of—you guessed it—cost. So we're in this weird standoff where we have sand they won't move, which we could give to beaches that need it, if only we could schedule a meeting to discuss the sand we have too much of.

Meanwhile, the sand just keeps doing its thing.

"To my knowledge, it just keeps building up," Napolitano said, with the slightly weary tone of a man who has spent too much time thinking about sand logistics.

Councilman Dean Francois asked the obvious question: What have we done with extra sand in the past?

"To my knowledge, we haven't done anything," Napolitano replied.

So there you have it. For years, possibly decades, Hermosa Beach has been accumulating sand like a hoarder who can't throw anything away, and we've never once thought to monetize our beach surplus. We're sitting on a literal pile of money—if only we could find someone's calendar that works.

The volleyball players are complaining about lumps. The Strand wall is under pressure.

The county will get back to us.

Any day now.

City Hall Sketch appears weekly, until the sand runs out.