Will Orange Say No To Orange Heights
A Grassroots Groups Challenges Big Developer Over Plans For Open Space
On a beautiful and sunny Saturday morning, Joel Robinson, the founder of No Orange Heights, leads a group of fellow travelers on a hike down a trail to the soundtrack of chattering birds and chirping crickets. The sycamores and live oaks sway in the breeze, their leaves green in the early spring. The crunch of leaves under foot and the tall grass running up the hillsides speaks to the abundant winter rains making this tract of land threaded Peter’s Canyon and Irvine Regional Park in Orange feel vibrant and alive.
Along the way, Robinson points out the yerba santa plants, speaking passionately about the herbs various benefits. “The Tongva tribe would use this herb to heal severe respiratory illnesses, making this one of the most powerful plants on the land,” Robinson says.
We encounter another plant cherished by the Gabrieleno/Tongva Tribe, the brodaya. “They would eat this, and it would actually significantly decrease the risk of several heart conditions,” Robinson says. Many plants in the area we hiked through had some sort of connection to the Tongva, underscoring both the historical and biological importance of the land.
Robinson encouraged his troupe of hikers to touch the plants, connecting them to the environment. This is No Orange Heights’ hope, that spending time in this tract of open space on the edge of a dense urban environment will inspire people to join its resistance to the Irvine Company’s bid to build here.
The Irvine Company wants to construct more than 1,180 homes in the foothills of Orange. The proposed homes would occupy a currently undeveloped open space between Irvine Regional Park and Peter’s Canyon Regional Park that a group coalescing around No Orange Heights sees as a crucial green corridor between the two preserved areas. The proposed development, they say, would intrude on native flora but also further stress animals upon whose habitat development is encroaching, including mountain lions such as the celebrated Uno who was killed by a car nearby this past winter and who, posthumously, has helped galvanize opposition to Orange Heights.
Aside from mountain lions, No Orange Heights lists on its website a plethora of wildlife it says this open space provides for, including mule deer, bobcats, gray foxes, long-tailed weasels, white-tailed kites, coastal California gnatcatchers, coastal cactus wren, least Bell’s vireo, greater roadrunners, California quail, native pollinators “and many other sensitive species.”
Back on the trail, we following Robinson down a cascading pathway lined with mature oaks and come upon a large fence. Robinson says that he “suspects the fence was put up in an attempt to demoralize or stop the overall mission of the group,” which is to bring people out to see what might be lost in the high-end residential development goes up.
Aside from its impact on the ecosystem through which we are hiking, No Orange Heights says the proposed development has other inherent issues. The residential/wilderness interface, it says, poses an increased risk of wildfire risk for existing property and residents without attendant increase in serves. The development would add to sprawl and traffic as the proposed homes are not slated near transportation hubs, commerce and other amenities. No Oranged Heights also argues that the houses are sited for land that is potentially historically and culturally sensitive to the Gabrieleño Tongva Band of Mission Indians. In general, it says, the development contradicts the city’s own environmental and sustainability goals without addressing its needs for affordable housing.
No Orange Heights would like to see a revised and updated Environmental Impact Report made available for public consideration before the development, which has already made it through significant approval hurdles, goes forward.
The Irvine Company’s original plan for this site was much larger. In the early 2000s, it had proposed 12,000 homes on 7,000 acres of the natural land. The county reduced this by 90 percent to “preserve the land,” a concession the developers think should be given some weight.
Furthermore, the Irvine Company insists that despite the opposition, there are a variety of benefits in the newer, more modest proposal that will come from the development. They argue that most of Orange Heights site has already been preserved as “natural open space,” and that this new development would include a trail linking the Irvine Regional Park to the Peters Canyon Regional Park for public enjoyment. The Irvine Company also states that Santiago Canyon Road will be widened by three lanes in each direction, creating a better flow of traffic and bike lanes. It argues that the plan will have a “State-of-the-art fire Prevention and Mitigation System” in place for the community that it says was developed in collaboration with the Orange Fire Department to minimize wildfire risk.
For his part, Robinson hopes that the recent death of Uno by car will be “be a wake-up call for people to start taking action.” Whatever mitigation the Irvine Company puts in place, doesn’t change for Robinson that sense that the area is too important for regional biodiversity and culture to build on. During the hike he said that Uno’s death was a catalyst for many members to join the cause, but lamented that it took a tragedy like that to get people’s attention.
Heather Westenhofer is a No Orange Heights member who Robinson recruited with his enthusiasm and love for the ecosystem. She says her frequent Robinson-led hikes have helped her to get more in touch with the land and feel a new sense of peace from connecting with nature, a valuable commodity in an otherwise dense, urban landscape.
She also mentioned that Anthony Morales of the Gabrieleño Tongva Band of Mission Indians had written a letter in February to the city addressing the cultural and historical sensitivity of the area. In his letter, Morales argues that the“Tribe does not consider that consultation between the Tribe and the City of Orange for this project has yet been completed in good faith.”
As we wind down the hike, Robinson surveys the area as if seeing it for the first time all over again. “The land really is something, isn’t it?” he says, looking off into a deep green valley in the throes of a gorgeous orange and violet sunset.
It’s hard to argue with that.
