Written by Matt Dursum
A thick morning fog falls from the foothills surrounding the Soquel Creek Valley in Santa Cruz Country, CA. Farmer and surfer Jesse Hersh feels the first rays of sunlight as he inspects the plots of dark green kale and perennials growing at Rancho Soquel, a 115 acre organic farm located 20 minutes from the Santa Cruz boardwalk. The fog burns off further, exposing Hersh’s plants and the vineyards and redwood forests of the nearby Santa Cruz Mountains to the warm California sun.
The people of the Sokel Tribe, for which the valley is named, are its original inhabitants. They lived off the acorns, wild plants, and salmon that once flourished in the area’s creeks and rivers. Today the valley is home to small vineyards, laid back mom-and-pop businesses, and farms like Rancho Soquel, where horticulture experts like Hersh produce food for health-conscious chefs and families living in Santa Cruz.
Hersh’s interest in agriculture started when he was a teenager. “My parents had a small vegetable garden and a compost pile and it was my job to take the compost out,” says Hersh. His mother grew vegetables and herbs to make homemade meals for the family. Hersh saw first hand how vegetables and fruits nourished in compost-rich soil became deeper in color and flavor. “We would dig in the bottom and get the black gold out of there and spread it around. I think that was super visceral for me,” he says.
It wasn’t long before he learned about another side of farming. Hersh watched in bewilderment as his friends sprayed Raid to kill insects living in their home garden. “I already knew from the smell of it that it was toxic. Like when I walked down the aisle at Home Depot as a kid,” says Hersh. As a 14-year-old, the revelation that store-bought food contained dangerous chemicals changed Hersh’s life forever. “Maybe if you were growing it for yourself, you maybe wouldn’t spray it, but if you’re selling it, maybe you’re like, ‘It’s a business’. I think I wrapped my head around that mentality, being skeptical about the food system, knowing that if you put this in your body, it’ll clearly make you sick.” Studies show a direct link between pesticide and chemical fertilizer use and the development of several types of cancers, including breast, brain, and kidney cancers. For a young Hersh, that food growers sold chemical-laden fruits and vegetables was nothing short of criminal.
Hersh’s obsession with food’s role in human health led to its social impact. “Learning about how the economy works around food and commodity crops convinced me that food was at the center of everything,” says Hersh. With food as the inspiration, he began his studies in anthropology. “Food defines your culture, and it’s the most basic interaction you can have with someone and not speak the same language.” The sharing, growing, and preparation of food, Hersh learned, could heal social divides, promote better health, and improve lives. “That stuck with me that every problem in the world can be solved through farming and gardening: climate change, human health, economic issues, equity, biodiversity; just basic earth care. That relation to the land is a spiritual thing.”
Hersh brought his love of agriculture and anthropology to Southern California and in 1999, he moved to Santa Barbara, to study physical anthropology and evolutionary psychology at the University of California, Santa Barbara. “That’s when I started surfing. I went to class and got decent grades, but I spent so much time in the water.” With year-round sunshine and world-class point breaks, life at the university couldn’t be more distracting for a new surfer. “It felt criminal to be in school in a way,” he says.
Photo by Mohamed Navi
Hersh grew up in the town of Danville in California’s sun-soaked Contra Costa County, just over 30 miles east of San Francisco. On holidays, his family would drive to Santa Cruz to spend time at the beach. “When I was a kid, I begged to go boogie boarding. My parents would rent me a wetsuit and I wouldn’t go out past the white water. I needed to have my feet touching the bottom,” he says. The first wave Hersh rode as a kid was at the San Lorenzo Rivermouth near the city’s popular boardwalk. In 1885, Hawaiian princes Edward, Jonah, and David Keliʻiahonui surfed the spot on 17’ redwood boards they made themselves. They became the first people to surf in Santa Cruz and the first board surfers on the United States mainland.
After graduating from UCSB, Hersh left Santa Barbara and moved to Santa Cruz, just a few blocks away from where he rode his first waves as a kid. “When I moved up here I was like, this is so different from Santa Barbara. It’s so much rockier and much less inviting,” says Hersh. Although both cities have world-class surf spots, major universities, and popular vineyards nearby, Santa Cruz couldn’t be more different from Santa Barbara. The ocean is colder; the fog is heavier, and the people have more of an edge to them. “In Santa Barbara, you’ll have a lot of people that look unhoused and then get into a Maserati. In Santa Cruz, it’s not like that,” he says. A recent census estimates Santa Cruz’ houseless population at around 1,850. “There’s a lot of people struggling with addiction. There’s the biggest hard-core liberal hippies and then you have academics and then super crusty surfer contractors that are super bitter about change but are also building houses for the techies.”
Photo by Liz Birnbaum, The Curated Feast
It was here that he started working at his current job at Rancho Soquel, a soon to be open 115 acre organic farm that’s aiming for a regenerative farm certification. Hersh and his coworkers farm cattle, sheep, chickens, dairy goats, vegetables, and hundreds of fruit trees. At Rancho Soquel, Hersh and the farm’s owner, a tech entrepreneur, share a mission of changing the food system and showing communities ways to transform food production for the greater good.
Hersh set his life up to be centered around the outdoors. If he isn’t on the land outdoors, he’s out surfing. Hersh’s love for surfing took him to distant surf destinations, such as Costa Rica and Mexico. It also frequently took him back to Santa Barbara.
Photo by Mohamed Navi
During a surfing session in October, 2023, at an undisclosed reef in Santa Barbara County, Hersh’s relationship to surfing and to a greater extent, life, changed forever. “It wasn’t a big day. There was a little part of the reef that was barrelling. I was focusing my energy on this little inside section that was breaking really nice,” he says.
Hersh was riding an eight foot hybrid board he had never ridden before with a leash several feet longer than he was used to. Making his way back out into the lineup after catching a wave, Hersh lost control of his large board while duck diving a set wave. “I got tumbled pretty good, and the board came out of my hands. I did the thing I always do by putting my hand up to protect myself.” As he was floating to the surface, he stared at the beautiful kelp forest dancing below him and uncovered his head after the turbulence had settled. “I was thinking, oh I should be diving right now and then, I just got clocked.”
Hersh’s friends rushed him to the ER. The 8’ board had impacted his eye at full force. “I took my wetsuit off, and we drove to the ER. I had a first AID kit in my car and we gauzed my eye.” When he reached Santa Barbara Cottage Hospital, he went straight into the operating room. His surgeon happened to be surfing nearby just before Hersh sustained his injury. “He’s like, dude, we gotta do surgery. You’re probably not going to see ever again out of your eye, but we’ll fix you up.” The surgeons couldn’t repair Hersh’s left eye, which ruptured during the impact. The event and the intense pain of the surgery that followed left him with severe trauma and permanent blindness in one eye.
After four months, Hersh returned to the ocean during a sunset session at the Indicators section of Steamer Lane. “It was hard, it was rough. All my physical faculties are there but when you have one eye you lose depth perception, especially within 20 feet,” says Hersh. According to research, being able to pick up the tiniest visual clues for wave dynamics is one of the key differences between novices and pros. Put another way, losing an eye puts you back at square one. “It was kind of heartbreaking because, it’s kind of like being a beginner who doesn’t know where to be. I mentally know where to be but I can’t see that spot, I can’t tell where that spot is.”
Throughout his recovery, Hersh was able to rekindle his love of surfing. “On that first day, I had one good turn. I was like, ok, I’m still having fun. Every time I go, the dynamic changes. My brain is figuring out how to use other proxies to judge depth,” says Hersh, who received dozens of heartfelt messages from friends, family, and other surfers such as Australian surfer and journalist Derek Hynd who also famously lost his eyesight during a surfing accident.
Hersh’s ordeal inspired him to continue his journey of recovery far beyond surfing. Through the help of his wife Kate, friends, and family, he found resources such as the Trauma Stewardship Institute, which helps trauma survivors develop strategies to overcome the overbearing effects of their experiences. “It’s hard to find someone who’s alive that hasn’t gone through something heavy. And then it’s been interesting to talk to people, and ask what are you doing about that? I think some people have seen me recover somewhat quickly, and it’s because my sister and my wife said to me, ‘you need to talk to this person, like, they’re on the phone.’” Hersh isn’t alone. According to the Johns Hopkins Institute, roughly 18% of adults between the ages of 18 and 54 suffer from an anxiety disorder such as PTSD. “That’s pretty powerful to be able to be vulnerable enough to even acknowledge that you need help,” says Hersh.
At home, Hersh reached for his guitar, a special steel blues guitar his wife crowdsourced for him for his 40th birthday. “I think after my accident I felt like, ok, this is a plot twist in my narrative and what cool thing’s gonna come out of this.” Hersh is recording songs under the name Jesse Berd and Yishai and his Opal Eye.
Hersh is coming to terms with his loss and what his new chapter in life means to him. “The acupuncturist I see told me that in Chinese medicine, this is called a spirit injury. It’s not just like breaking an arm, it’s like it’s part of your spirit. This causes a lot of sorrow,” says Hersh. According to his acupuncturist, the two eyed version of himself is gone. “I’ve read that when something very bad happens, it carves out this deeper sorrow and when that sorrow goes away, there’s a bigger vessel to hold joy, more joy than you could ever experience. You’re not the same person. This is a new person and you have to let go of that [other] person.”
Nine months have passed since his injury and Hersh continues to feel inspired everywhere he goes. “Today I was biking around and just breathing and seeing and feeling the road. I’m so happy to be alive, I’m so happy I’m not in pain,” he says. In addition to board surfing, Hersh found a new way to enjoy the sea, bodysurfing. “I’ve always loved body surfing and I think the ratio of surfing to body surfing will change.” As the one-year anniversary of his accident approaches, Hersh continues to find healing in his work and in the place where he lost his eye. “I can’t afford to be bit by a shark now. If I had one eye and a shark bit my leg, I think I’d be done paying the high rent of coastal living.”