Lifestyle
The world's largest wildlife crossing is finally standing. Here is what's coming next
• The Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing now spans the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills, but weather issues have pushed completion to sometime in 2026.
• Builders plan to cover the crossing with “engineered” soil inoculated with local microbes early next year so more than 5,000 native shrubs and wildflowers can be planted.
• But the crossing won’t be connected to the mainland until Stage 2, when many tons of earth must be moved to create a safe elevated passage over one of the state’s busiest freeways.
It doesn’t take a hawk eye to recognize that the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing over the 101 Freeway in Agoura Hills is not your normal Caltrans project.
For one thing, there’s the color. Most Caltrans structures are the light gray of natural concrete. But to reduce reflectivity and help the crossing blend in more with the surrounding land, the new crossing’s 27 million pounds of concrete have been colored a shade dubbed “dusty mocha” by the project’s lead designer, Robert Rock, a landscape architect for Chicago-based Rock Design Associates.
The official name, however, is Federal Standard Color 595-33105, a hue “inspired,” Rock said, by the soil around the crossing that will eventually provide wildlife safe passage between the Santa Monica Mountains to the south and the Simi Hills and Santa Susana Mountains to the north when the project is completed.
For the record:
9:23 a.m. Oct. 29, 2024An earlier version of this story incorrectly reported that Robert Rock works for Living Habitats. He now has his own firm, Rock Design Associates. It also incorrectly reported that Katherine Pakradouni was the founder of the project’s nursery. She was the former manager.
When the project began in 2022, the end date was projected to be late 2025, but severe rain and heat the past two years caused delays that have pushed completion to sometime in 2026, said Rock. Weather extremes can wreak havoc on construction projects, especially when they involve so much concrete, he added.
Concrete molds for new signage on the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Nonetheless, there’s been plenty of progress. The crossing now spans the 101, and up on the deck — 21 feet and 8 inches above the freeway — there’s a marked difference from the noise on the ground, where the traffic is so loud it’s hard to have a shouted conversation (unless all you’re saying is “What?!”).
On Oct. 16, Caltrans senior bridge engineer Darwin Vargas led a group to the top of the structure, promising serenity once we stepped on the deck. He was right. At the top, the deck looks like a moonscape, and the roar of rushing cars and trucks was barely discernible, thanks to the thick, 12-foot-tall sound walls on either side of the structure, which is slightly wider than an American football field and about three-quarters its length.
Landscape designer Robert Rock looks down from the temporary stairs leading to the deck on the south side of the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing. The area where the stairs are now will be filled in with soil, covering a tunnel over Agoura Road to create a gradual slope off the crossing to the Santa Monica Mountains.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
On that day, workers were using power tools (and even those sounds were muffled) to smooth the sides and surface of the concrete deck, preparing it for the next steps — waterproofing the concrete and covering it with heavy rubber sheets about 2 inches thick. After that will come a “giant mattress of gravel” 12 inches deep, Rock said, laced with perforated pipes to collect runoff and direct it into Liberty Canyon Creek.
It’s hard to tell as you’re driving underneath, but the crossing is slightly slanted, about two feet lower on the north end than the south to help drain off any moisture, because the last thing you want on a concrete structure is a lot of standing water.
This space will be off-limits to humans once the crossing is completed, with locked gates to keep people out and discreet fencing to guide wildlife away from nearby homes into the wild hills beyond. The crossing is designed to feel like an extension of the hills and valleys in the area to re-create the seamless corridor that existed before the noisy, busy freeway made passage so dangerous.
Senior bridge engineer Darwin Vargas pauses on the maintenance walkway on the east edge of the wildlife crossing, with one of the 12-foot-tall soundproofing walls to the right. The area between the walkway and sound wall will be planted; the wildlife will cross in the wide expanse on the other side of the wall.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Once the gravel is in place, the builders will add about 6,000 cubic yards of “engineered soil” to the structure, Rock said. It’s a sandy loam mixed with lightweight volcanic aggregate to provide the volume and moisture needed to support plant life while reducing the weight on the structure and allowing for easy drainage.
That quantity of soil is enough to cover three-quarters of an American football field in about 2.5 feet of soil, he said, but on the crossing, the “ground” will be higher in some places than others, contoured to mimic the dips and dents one might find on nearby hills.
The engineered soil will also be inoculated with mycorrhizal fungi spores collected within five miles of the crossing, the same spores added to the soils growing the 5,000-plus hyper-local native shrubs and wildflowers that will be planted on the crossing. The plants are considered “hyper-local” because they are grown from seeds that were collected within a five-mile radius of the structure, Rock said.
Soil scientist Ted Hartsig at the special nursery growing native plants for the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
“We’ve got to have the right microbes in order for these locally sourced seeds to flourish,” said Ted Hartsig, a soil scientist for the engineering company Olsson, one of many contractors working on the crossing.
If all this sounds a little fiddly, well, just understand that it’s tough to mimic Mother Nature. Success is in the details, and there are more than a 100 people led by Rock trying to ensure that every detail is done correctly.
After all the soil is in place, they plan to start planting early next spring, Rock said. The project has two nursery sites now: a seed bank near Paramount Ranch and the main nursery off Las Virgenes Road in Calabasas, where thousands of seeds have been planted in tiny flats and then repotted to grow large enough to be planted.
Jewlya Samaniego and Jose Campos, co-managers of the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing, prune one-gallon containers of white sage slated for planting on the crossing next year.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Those seeds were collected in 2022 by the nursery’s former manager, Katherine Pakradouni, who has since moved on to another position. The people who helped her set up the nursery, Jewlya Samaniego and Jose Campos, now run the site together and put in so many long hours that some people have questioned whether they live there. They don’t, Samaniego said laughing, but there are time it feels that way, especially during the heavy rains last winter and the scorching heat this summer.
Native plants don’t need much water once they’re established in the ground, but growing in little pots that dry out quickly, that’s another matter, Campos said. During the highest heat, they had to water the plants twice a day to keep them alive, and they finally created a shaded area to protect tender seedlings from the heat.
Most of the plants growing at the nursery will be planted on the structure next year: native shrubs such as white sage, California fuchsia, California buckwheat, sagebrush, purple sage, black sage, toyon and laurel sumac, along with a variety of native grasses.
The hope is that the plants will be robust enough — thanks to the beneficial microbes — to crowd out the black mustard and other invasive plants growing nearby, Rock said. Once established, the plants shouldn’t need much water, but the crossing will have an irrigation system installed that can be activated to wet down the crossing in the event of a wildfire.
Stage 2 involves creating a tunnel over Agoura Road to the south to create a gradual slope that will allow animals to wander off the crossing into the Santa Monica Mountains. To the north, a deep gash in the hill will also be filled with soil, to create a sloping entry from the Simi Hills onto the crossing.
Soil scientist Ted Hartsig holds a handful of soil teeming with beneficial mycorrhizal fungi that will be used to inoculate the wildlife crossing growing media.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Those areas will have similar plantings along with native oaks and other native trees, which can’t be planted on the crossing because their roots run too deep, Rock said.
The nursery is growing those plants from seed too. The plants have been moved to the growing area called the “seed bank” near Paramount Ranch, he said. The goal is to collect seeds from them until they’re ready to be moved to their permanent homes on the shoulders that link the crossing to the hills, which likely won’t be until 2026.
Rock said they’re doing the planting in stages so the plants on the crossing have a year to get established before wildlife can reach them. Otherwise, the young plants could be nibbled to death by hungry travelers.
The design work for Stage 2 is nearly completed, Rock said, but it will likely take a good part of 2025 to get the tunnel over Agoura Road completed.
A view of traffic on the 101 Freeway, looking west, from the top of the Wallis Annenberg Wildlife Crossing. Once the work is completed, the 12-foot-tall sound wall will obscure the sight and sounds of the freeway from animals crossing between the Santa Monica Mountains and the Simi Hills.
(Brian van der Brug / Los Angeles Times)
Then there will be lots of earth to move. Much will come from the north side of the crossing, where fill dirt was deposited from the 101 expansion in the 1950s and 1960s, said Rock.
The shoulders will have to be filled in slowly, a little at a time on each side, said Vargas. Too much soil on one side could destabilize the structure, causing it to topple, he said, “which would be really, really sad.”
Once the fill soil is in place, the builders will add a final layer of top soil, a rich mix that was dredged from the bottom of Malibu Lake 70 years ago and has been resting near Paramount Ranch ever since, teeming with the beneficial microbes so important to this project’s success.
All that won’t happen for another year at least. On Oct. 16, the only animals on the structure were human, but high above, circling in the brilliant blue sky, a hawk was keeping tabs.
Lifestyle
Mundane, magic, maybe both — a new book explores ‘The Writer’s Room’
There’s a three-story house in Baltimore that looks a bit imposing. You walk up the stone steps before even getting up to the porch, and then you enter the door and you’re greeted with a glass case of literary awards. It’s The Clifton House, formerly home of Lucille Clifton.
The National Book Award-winning poet lived there with her husband, Fred, starting in 1967 until the bank foreclosed on the house in 1980. Clifton’s daughter, Sidney Clifton, has since revived the house and turned it into a cultural hub, hosting artists, readings, workshops and more. But even during a February visit, in the mid-afternoon with no organized events on, the house feels full.
The corner of Lucille Clifton’s bedroom, where she would wake up and write in the mornings
Andrew Limbong/NPR
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Andrew Limbong/NPR
“There’s a presence here,” Clifton House Executive Director Joël Díaz told me. “There’s a presence here that sits at attention.”
Sometimes, rooms where famous writers worked can be places of ineffable magic. Other times, they can just be rooms.
Princeton University Press
Katie da Cunha Lewin is the author of the new book, The Writer’s Room: The Hidden Worlds That Shape the Books We Love, which explores the appeal of these rooms. Lewin is a big Virginia Woolf fan, and the very first place Lewin visited working on the book was Monk’s House — Woolf’s summer home in Sussex, England. On the way there, there were dreams of seeing Woolf’s desk, of retracing Woolf’s steps and imagining what her creative process would feel like. It turned out to be a bit of a disappointment for Lewin — everything interesting was behind glass, she said. Still, in the book Lewin writes about how she took a picture of the room and saved it on her phone, going back to check it and re-check it, “in the hope it would allow me some of its magic.”
Let’s be real, writing is a little boring. Unlike a band on fire in the recording studio, or a painter possessed in their studio, the visual image of a writer sitting at a desk click-clacking away at a keyboard or scribbling on a piece of paper isn’t particularly exciting. And yet, the myth of the writer’s room continues to enrapture us. You can head to Massachusetts to see where Louisa May Alcott wrote Little Women. Or go down to Florida to visit the home of Zora Neale Hurston. Or book a stay at the Scott & Zelda Fitzgerald Museum in Alabama, where the famous couple lived for a time. But what, exactly, is the draw?

Lewin said in an interview that whenever she was at a book event or an author reading, an audience question about the writer’s writing space came up. And yes, some of this is basic fan-driven curiosity. But also “it started to occur to me that it was a central mystery about writing, as if writing is a magic thing that just happens rather than actually labor,” she said.
In a lot of ways, the book is a debunking of the myths we’re presented about writers in their rooms. She writes about the types of writers who couldn’t lock themselves in an office for hours on end, and instead had to find moments in-between to work on their art. She covers the writers who make a big show of their rooms, as a way to seem more writerly. She writes about writers who have had their homes and rooms preserved, versus the ones whose rooms have been lost to time and new real estate developments. The central argument of the book is that there is no magic formula to writing — that there is no daily to-do list to follow, no just-right office chair to buy in order to become a writer. You just have to write.
Lifestyle
Bruce Johnston Retiring From The Beach Boys After 61 Years
Bruce Johnston
I’m Riding My Last Wave With The Beach Boys
Published
Bruce Johnston is riding off into the California sunset … at least for now.
The Beach Boys legend announced Wednesday he’s stepping away from touring after six decades with the iconic band. The 83-year-old revealed in a statement to Rolling Stone he’s hanging up his touring hat to focus on what he calls part three of his long music career.
“It’s time for Part Three of my lengthy musical career!” Johnston said. “I can write songs forever, and wait until you hear what’s coming!!! As my major talent beyond singing is songwriting, now is the time to get serious again.”
Johnston famously stepped in for co-founder Brian Wilson in 1965 for live performances, becoming a staple of the Beach Boys’ touring lineup ever since. Now, he says he’s shifting gears toward songwriting and even some speaking engagements … with occasional touring member John Stamos helping him craft what he’ll talk about onstage.
“I might even sing ‘Disney Girls’ & ‘I Write The Songs!!’” he teased.
But don’t call it a full-on farewell tour just yet. Johnston made it clear he’s not shutting the door completely, saying he’s excited to reunite with the band for special occasions, including their upcoming July 2-4 shows at the Hollywood Bowl as part of the Beach Boys’ 2026 tour. The run celebrates both the 60th anniversary of “Pet Sounds” and America’s 250th birthday.
“This isn’t goodbye, it’s see you soon,” he wrote. “I am forever grateful to be a part of the Beach Boys musical legacy.”
Lifestyle
On the brink of death, a woman is saved by a stranger and his family
In 1982, Jean Muenchrath was injured in a mountaineering accident and on the brink of death when a stranger and his family went out of their way to save her life.
Jean Muenchrath
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Jean Muenchrath
In early May 1982, Jean Muenchrath and her boyfriend set out on a mountaineering trip in the Sierra Nevada, a mountain range in California. They had done many backcountry trips in the area before, so the terrain was somewhat familiar to both of them. But after they reached one of the summits, a violent storm swept in. It began to snow heavily, and soon the pair was engulfed in a blizzard, with thunder and lightning reverberating around them.
“Getting struck and killed by lightning was a real possibility since we were the highest thing around for miles and lightning was striking all around us,” Muenchrath said.
To reach safer ground, they decided to abandon their plan of taking a trail back. Instead, using their ice axes, they climbed down the face of the mountain through steep and icy snow chutes.
They were both skilled at this type of descent, but at one particularly difficult part of the route, Muenchrath slipped and tumbled over 100 feet down the rocky mountain face. She barely survived the fall and suffered life-threatening injuries.

This was before cellular or satellite phones, so calling for help wasn’t an option. The couple was forced to hike through deep snow back to the trailhead. Once they arrived, Muenchrath collapsed in the parking lot. It had been five days since she’d fallen.
”My clothes were bloody. I had multiple fractures in my spine and pelvis, a head injury and gangrene from a deep wound,” Muenchrath said.
Not long after they reached the trailhead parking lot, a car pulled in. A man was driving, with his wife in the passenger seat and their baby in the back. As soon as the man saw Muenchrath’s condition, he ran over to help.
”He gently stroked my head, and he held my face [and] reassured me by saying something like, ‘You’re going to be OK now. I’ll be right back to get you,’” Muenchrath remembered.
For the first time in days, her panic began to lift.
“My unsung hero gave me hope that I’d reach a hospital and I’d survive. He took away my fears.”
Within a few minutes, the man had unpacked his car. His wife agreed to stay back in the parking lot with their baby in order to make room for Muenchrath, her boyfriend and their backpacks.
The man drove them to a nearby town so that the couple could get medical treatment.
“I remember looking into the eyes of my unsung hero as he carried me into the emergency room in Lone Pine, California. I was so weak, I couldn’t find the words to express the gratitude I felt in my heart.”

The gratitude she felt that day only grew. Now, nearly 45 years later, she still thinks about the man and his family.
”He gave me the gift of allowing me to live my life and my dreams,” Muenchrath said.
At some point along the way, the man gave Muenchrath his contact information. But in the chaos of the day, she lost it and has never been able to find him.
”If I knew where my unsung hero was today, I would fly across the country to meet him again. I’d hug him, buy him a meal and tell him how much he continues to mean to me by saving my life. Wherever you are, I say thank you from the depths of my being.”
My Unsung Hero is also a podcast — new episodes are released every Tuesday. To share the story of your unsung hero with the Hidden Brain team, record a voice memo on your phone and send it to myunsunghero@hiddenbrain.org.
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