The industrial-scale stores straddling Interstate 215 where it intersects Mead Valley look like a swarm of white practical boxes when they are seen from below.
The big-box distribution centers in this uninhabited Riverside County community have long resided on a sizable remove west of the motorway, where they are able to fulfill online shopping purchases. Burlington, Living Locations and FedEx are among nearly 50 inventory properties located around, capitalizing on Mead Valley’s quick access to rail and motorway corridors.
Beyond this ribbon, while, Mead Valley inhabitants embrace a rural existence. People around raise horses and cattle, most roads are lined with sand trails, rather than sidewalks, to support riders on horse. The area has some local businesses besides the brand-new Farmer Boys diner close to the freeway and gas stations, feed shops, and plant nurseries.
As e-commerce exploded during the COVID pandemic, more supply locations rose along the motorway, bringing more cars to local sidewalks. However, there was an understanding that, beyond the clearly delineated business zone, Mead Valley residents could preserve their solitude and striking views, in exchange for , shouldering a significant share , of an industry crucial to America’s virtual shopping habit.
But the boundary between where warehouse growth begins and rural life begins could quickly become blurred.
County officials are reviewing a hundred requests to rezone remote Mead Valley personal land to make room for more business use. At least one plan may result in the destruction of dozens of homes and dedicated empty space because developers are attempting to expand the development of warehouses beyond the established industrial zone. People would penetrate the existing limit, bringing the potential for stores and their 24/7 noise and fuel to the fringes of existing districts, fundamentally altering occupants ‘ lifestyles.
County Supervisor Kevin Jeffries, who represents the area that includes Mead Valley, said he has “deep problems” about the proposed adjustments. He referred to drawing a “big dark rectangle” over the business area of Mead Valley as indicating where he believed the boundaries of inventory growth may be.
” Almost all the low-hanging, easy items for logistics are spoken for. And so the truly great, deep-pockets designers presently see options to try and consider to push boundaries beyond those that have been established for years,” said Jeffries, who is retiring after 12 times on the table.
” It’s going to be a problem if they cross that boundary and begin marching into what you might refer to as Mead Valley right.” When or where does the upward movement begin?
Karla Cervantes, a citizen, had related issues. Cervantes and her father, Franco Pacheco, raise their children and animal on two hectares in Mead Valley. She worries that as more remote private property is rezoned for business use, districts will begin eroding like dominoes.
” Once one neighborhood is surrounded by warehouses, then the investors will come, buy them out, and then it creeps up more and more and more”, Cervantes said.
Will Mead Valley residents be able to benefit from the county’s general plan amendment process, which the county conducts every eight years and is largely bureaucratic? Will the county’s leaders approve the proposed zoning changes, causing more warehouses and jobs to be created and more money to be made in the county? Or is this the moment when the rapid expansion of distribution centers along the 215 corridor finally stops?
Riverside County’s unique rezoning process is the result of a more than two-decade-old settlement with the conservation group  , Endangered Habitats League, which sued the county in 2003 over concerns about sprawling development.
According to county planning director John Hildebrand, the settlement “resulted in a way that slow-rolls development in the rural areas of the county.”
Under terms of , the settlement, developers who want to request zoning changes for swaths of land from one of five major uses to another — agriculture, open space, rural, rural community or community development — are able to request that change only every eight years, during the county ‘s , Foundation General Plan Amendment , cycle.
According to Dan Silver, executive director of the Endangered Habitats League, the process was intended to give county leaders the opportunity to “look at the bigger picture rather than piecemealing it.”
Mead Valley, a majority Latino community of about 20, 500 people, already has 2, 000 square feet of warehouses per person, including existing and approved warehouses and those under environmental review, according to a data analysis by Susan Phillips, director of the , Robert Redford Conservancy for Southern California Sustainability , at Pitzer College, and Mike McCarthy, an adjunct professor and data scientist at the college.
That’s one of the highest warehouse-per-resident ratios in the Inland Empire, according to their analysis. Additionally, the developer’s rezoning applications would add 1,000 more acres of warehouse projects.
Many developers have already established themselves as “property owners” of sizable parcels by convincing enough local homeowners to agree to sell their land in exchange for sizable payments, contingent upon the county’s consent to the zoning changes.
Three zoning change requests for District 1, which include Mead Valley, have so far been received by the Planning Commission, and several have been kept for future meetings. The developers must return if supervisors approve the requests in order to receive approval for specific projects.
One developer,  , Hillwood, is seeking a zoning change to build a million-square-foot warehouse, along with a public park, on about 65 acres of land just west of Mead Valley’s industrial corridor.
The proposed development, which is currently known as the Cajalco Commerce Center, would require the demolition of 26 homes and a commercial building. The developer has promised an estimated 974 jobs, as well as infrastructure improvements and landscaping along a main thoroughfare, according to the project ‘s , draft environmental impact report. It would have a” significant and unavoidable” impact on air quality and transportation, the report said.
Paz Treviño lives on the outskirts of Mead Valley’s industrial corridor, on a two-acre lot where he sells heavy construction equipment. He has agreed to sell his property to Hillwood for$ 3 million, contingent on county approvals, he said. He has outgrown his current lot, he said, and with the money he stands to make from selling his land, he hopes to buy five or 10 acres elsewhere.
A member of Mead Valley’s Municipal Advisory Committee, he supports allowing more industrial development.
The warehouses, he said, bring jobs to a community where fewer than 8 % of residents have a bachelor’s degree. He predicted that these amenities would increase as family incomes increased because he heard concerns about the lack of grocery stores, restaurants, and healthcare facilities.
” We’re going to start getting the stores that people want”, he said. ” But we’re not going to get those other industries— the food industries and the retail industries — without first having a stabilized middle class,” he said.
He believes landowners like himself should be able to make a sizable profit from their investments and is frustrated with the anti-warehouse advocates ‘ attempts to halt rezoning. ” It’s the landowners that have the last say, is what I say”, he said. ” And if you’re not within the area, mind your damn business”.
Shanowa De La Cruz might find herself at the bottom of the equation.
De La Cruz, her husband, and their children moved to a five-bedroom home on an acre in Mead Valley, not far from Trevio’s estate, about three years ago. It was meant to be their forever home, where they could raise chickens, goats, ducks, and a pig, with the exception of the five of six who still reside at home.
” We like our solitude. That’s why most of us live over here in Mead Valley”, De La Cruz said.
Six months after purchasing the property, they learned about the Cajalco Commerce Center proposal and that some neighborhood neighbors had already agreed to sell their properties to Hillwood. De La Cruz claimed she spoke with the company and received an offer that hardly covered the cost of the home, presumably because the developer does n’t need their property for the project.
De La Cruz said she would need to pay” substantial” money to get her family to move because of the situation, which she described as” a warehouse” and” a hard place. However, if she stays and the proposal is approved, the development would loom nearby, compromising their privacy and lowering their home value.
” It’s going to be one of those houses that is in between a warehouse” development, she said. ” We’ve all seen those houses. No one’s going to buy that. You say,’ Aw,  , pobrecito, they left them there.'”
Scott Morse, executive vice president with Hillwood, declined to comment on De La Cruz’s situation. He claimed that the idea enjoys the support of the public.
” We’re bringing something to the community that is needed and wanted by the community”, he said,” so that’s our compass”.
More than 20 years ago, Raymond Torres left the “hustle and bustle” of the San Diego area and settled in Mead Valley, where he eventually built two homes.
On clear days, he can see the Big Bear and Palomar mountains as well as the San Jacinto and San Gabriel ranges. He claims to regularly spot owls and kangaroo rats among the grasses and native plants across the street from his home. His neighbors ride horses on the land, he prefers to traverse it on wheels — by dirt bike, quad or go-kart.
A large swath of open land surrounding the property is proposed for rezoning, but it is not. The real estate and investment firm , Deca , has proposed rezoning 648.5 gross acres from rural residential to community development, with a mix of residential, commercial and industrial components, according to Travis Duncan, Deca‘s vice president of development.
Additionally, we intend to set aside a significant portion of the property as open space and are excited about the project’s combination of commerce and conservation, according to Duncan.
Torres said it’s “heartbreaking” to imagine the land being used for development.
” It’s our neighborhood”, he said. ” We have pride in it”.
The Deca proposal would also bring Cervantes and Pacheco’s industrial development much closer together. Their two-lane street has already turned into a truck bypass. They are concerned warehouses will beget warehouses, eventually ending up in their backyard.
Mead Valley is oversaturated with warehouses and semis, they argue, and yet the community itself remains underinvested. If Mad Valley were to actually benefit from a large portion of the revenue that industrial development is generating for Riverside County, Cervantes jokes, it would look “amazing.” The closest Target, according to Pacheco, is not a retail space but rather a massive distribution center, on the other side of the freeway.
The Mead Valley Coalition for Clean Air was founded by Pacheco and Cervantes earlier this year to protest warehouse expansion. They see the rezoning fight as a fight for Mead Valley’s future. The question is whether county leaders will rubber-stamp the continued expansion of the I-215 industrial corridor and whether that boundary, which is between industrial and rural housing, will survive.
However, Cervantes noted that trying to prevent Mead Valley from drowning in the glistening sea of white warehouses frequently feels like an uphill battle. She worries about the limited opportunities for young people to grow up amid a mass logistics hub, as well as a future with worse air quality and lower property values.
” When they look to see the sun rise”, she said,” they’re going to see the sun rise on a bunch of warehouses”.
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