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In California's Sonoran Desert, about 50 miles (80 km) north of the US-Mexico border, lies a squatter's paradise. Over 600 acres of rent-free land left over from a military base is now a well-established off-the-grid community where the living conditions are tough, but where freedom is guaranteed.
Slab City, also called The Slabs, is a home for social outcasts, and a hot tourist spot for those who are curious about outcasts. It offers a very different alternative to how most North Americans’ daily lives work. It’s equally ambitious and artistic as it is challenging, but it has managed to maintain the spirit that it started with decades ago with every generation of transient, freedom-seeking people. The community has both been a home for people who had to run away, and also a home for people who wanted something to run to.
Click through to see what life is like in this fascinating community, what challenges they face, and what they've been able to achieve so far.
The 640 acres of public land now called Slab City was named so because it used to be a US Marine Corps base which, in the 1940s, housed a laboratory for testing how well concrete survived in the harsh desert climate.
Though the operations were shut down at the end of WWII, squatters soon claimed the area, setting up makeshift residences using the concrete slabs that remained, as well as anything else they found. From the beginning to present day, there has been no running water, no electricity, no trash services, and no plumbing.
Since the 1950s, Slab City has attracted retirees, artists, former convicts, anarchists, outcasts, the impoverished, and anyone escaping city life.
Snowbirds, people who migrate from the colder northern parts of North America to warmer southern parts during winter, increase the population of Slab City to more than 4,000 residents by some estimates. But during summer that number boils down to 150 or so, as temperatures tend to stay around 100°F (38°C).
Anyone can join the mix of tents, trailers, RVs, and shacks since the state of California doesn’t collect property taxes, and there are no landlords to charge people rent. The catch is that not everyone has what it takes to move in.
Without much income, Slabbers tend to resort to a bartering system, typically using supplies or skills.
Because of the lack of infrastructure and the collective clinging to an ideal of "freedom," paid jobs are rare, particularly if you don’t offer a special skill or have a car to transport water or goods. These days tourist season is one of the few ways to make money from guided tours or selling merchandise.
There are no grocery stores, and the desert climate is too harsh to grow food or raise livestock, so Slabbers have to get their food from nearby towns. They must learn to stretch their food supplies, along with skills like composting and jarring.
Older generations of squatters often arrived with skills they could bring to the community, like repair or construction, but younger squatters are arriving with less skills and even less willingness to share, Slabber “Builder Bill” Ammon told Time magazine.
Apparently the older Slabbers aren’t a fan of the newcomers’ partying and drug use either. They say a common misconception of the newcomers is that they’ll be taken care of in the Slabs, but really the only thing that is given to you for free is the plot of land you pick. For the rest, you’ve got to be crafty and self-sufficient.
For an off-the-grid community, the streets are in a very familiar grid, and there's also a small library, a few establishments that sell food, and even places available to rent on Airbnb, Roadtrippers reports.
Though Slabbers are quite diverse, they’re united by their desire to live outside of conventional society, and they’ve been praised by tourists as very friendly, open, and proud of their community.
Similar to regular cities, the Slabs has more than a dozen individual neighborhoods, joined together with their own particular rules and culture.
A man named Spyder leads the Ponderosa neighborhood, which centers around a makeshift kitchen/bar/outdoor living room, made out of found materials like plywood, sheet metal, and tarps. He lives there with his wife and kids, and has about 12 people stay in his camp during high season, each paying US$125 a month in exchange for daily meals, and the luxury of an outhouse and outdoor shower.
It’s atrociously hot in the summer, and the summer stretches on, so surviving requires a ton of preparation and resources. Some people have set up misting systems and swamp coolers, but you must also have a structure strong enough to withstand tough desert winds.
With no electricity, running water, or sanitation services like sewage treatment or trash removal, the place can be littered with garbage and it can pose threats to health. There is, however, a communal cold "shower," which is in a hole in the ground and has non-potable water.
The place is a haven for free substance use since there's a lack of authority figures, but at the same time that drugs like marijuana are enjoyed, drugs like crystal meth are fueling addictions.
Though there are many outcasts, ex-convicts, and addicts known to seek refuge in the city, the crime rates are quite low, and many Slabbers say people tend to mind their own business, or else they communally handle problems (though one method cited was setting fire to offenders’ camps).
Although there’s no formal government or police force in Slab City, authorities from neighboring towns reportedly pass through frequently, and county dispatchers say calls from Slab City often involve disturbances, larceny, or medical emergencies.
On the northern side of Slab City, you can find the art commune called East Jesus. It boasts acres of welded works of junk art, huge statues and intricate installations, and it's open to visitors.
The art project turned commune was started in 2006 by late Slabber Charles Stephen Russell. It's a self-contained, eco-themed project, and, unlike Slab, the area is now private property, as local non-profit Chasterus Foundation bought the 30-acre plot in 2016.
The main attraction is an outdoor “art museum,” open year-round, which features a wall of broken TVs covered with messages, a car adorned with baby doll heads, and other strange installations.
Behind the museum, residents have set up a labyrinth of trailers around a communal living area. Unlike most Slabbers, they have power, Wi-Fi, composting toilets, showers, a battery bank, a backup diesel generator, a water heater, a hand-washing station, a pantry, and a recycling area.
East Jesus caretaker Pyro Iskaki admitted that the Slabs residents have criticized the commune's efforts to create structure in a self-proclaimed “lawless” place, claiming they’re gentrifying the city. He rebutted, arguing: "We’re trying to offer a resource to the community to be able to improve itself and take some responsibility.”
Slab City’s largest and most recognizable art installation was created over 30 years by artist Leonard Knight, using an estimated 100,000 gallons of donated paint. The state once tried to declare it a hazardous waste site, but Knight prevailed and the Folk Art Society of America has since declared the huge hill a national folk art shrine.
The first Slab City Library opened in 1999, but suffered from neglect. In 2014, Cornelius Vango moved in and started rebuilding it. Now, locals and tourists can sit in the shade with a good book to pass the time, and, of course, there are no due dates or library cards.
They're off the grid, but not entirely offline. An Internet café, which is a wireless router situated in a tent, gives Slabbers access to the outside world, and vice versa.
The Range is an open-stage venue in the middle of Slab City, which sees performances from local artists or bands passing through. It also hosts the city’s annual prom, a yearly party at the end of winter that offers the rare chance for Slabbers to dress up.
As many problems as Slab City encounters, it's no more than any regular city must face, and the squatters' paradise offers an opportunity to envision a different way of life.
Sources: (Time) (Washington Post) (LA Weekly) (Roadtrippers) (Smithsonian) (Independent)
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In California's Sonoran Desert, about 50 miles (80 km) north of the US-Mexico border, lies a squatter's paradise. Over 600 acres of rent-free land left over from a military base is now a well-established off-the-grid community where the living conditions are tough, but where freedom is guaranteed.
Slab City, also called The Slabs, is a home for social outcasts, and a hot tourist spot for those who are curious about outcasts. It offers a very different alternative to how most North Americans’ daily lives work. It’s equally ambitious and artistic as it is challenging, but it has managed to maintain the spirit that it started with decades ago with every generation of transient, freedom-seeking people. The community has both been a home for people who had to run away, and also a home for people who wanted something to run to.
Click through to see what life is like in this fascinating community, what challenges they face, and what they've been able to achieve so far.