Quick Take
Former farmworker, teacher and local activist Woody Rehanek is stunned when he looks out at the Pajaro Valley and considers the miles of plastic blanketing lush local farmland. He dubs our age “the Plasticene,” for the millions of pounds of farm plastics in use. Recycling, he writes, lags far behind the scale of the problem. Here, he traces how modern agriculture fuels a growing tide of local pollution and then points to a different future, one rooted in soil health, organic practices, and change underway at a few forward-looking companies.
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In a classic scene from the film “The Graduate,” Dustin Hoffman’s character, Benjamin, who is about to leave college and join the workforce, is pulled aside by an older man at a party and given a one-word tip for the future: “Plastics.”
Drive over Hecker Pass from Gilroy and look out from the old Mount Madonna Inn, and the Pajaro Valley seems to shimmer like its long-lost wetlands reborn. Yet the illusion fades on closer look. Aside from a few lakes and the Pajaro River, what stretches out is something else entirely: roughly 80 square miles of plastic covering the valley floor – from the Aptos Hills to Royal Oaks, from the Santa Cruz Mountains to the sea.
This is the Plasticene Age.
Plastic is, at its essence, extruded petroleum, and its production is deeply tied to greenhouse gas emissions. As energy systems slowly shift toward renewables and electric vehicles, fossil fuel companies are increasingly betting on plastics to sustain demand. The trend is already clear: Half of all the plastic ever made was produced in just the past 20 years. By 2040, plastic pollution could reach 280 million metric tons annually – an amount equivalent to dumping a truckload of plastic into the environment every second.
Here in the Pajaro Valley, the consequences are not abstract.
When the valley flooded in 2023, agricultural plastics were carried into rivers, creeks and, ultimately, Monterey Bay. A 2021 United Nations report projects that plastic in the world’s waters could more than double by 2030 without intervention.
Microplastics are now found in human bloodstreams and tissues. Yale University research has shown that blue whales in Monterey Bay can ingest up to 10 million pieces – nearly 95 pounds – of microplastics each day.
Agriculture plays a significant role in this problem.
A 2019 study in Monterey County by the Monterey Bay National Marine Sanctuary, in partnership with the California Marine Sanctuary Foundation, estimated that more than 20 million pounds of agricultural plastic are used in fields each year. This includes drip tape, plastic mulch films and hoop house coverings. Despite this scale, recycling remains minimal. In the United States, only about 9% of all plastic is recycled, while the vast majority is buried, burned, or piled somewhere. For agricultural plastics, the recycling rate is even less clear – and likely lower.
Some local efforts exist. Facilities such as ReGen Monterey accept certain materials, and companies such as Flipping Iron Inc. in Bakersfield have developed capacity to recycle mulch film and other plastics. But practical barriers like transportation, cost, and contamination limit how much actually gets reused.
There are alternatives, and some are already in use. Since 2014, companies like FilmOrganic have produced biodegradable mulch films that can be tilled into the soil at the end of a season, eliminating both waste and labor costs. These materials point toward a different model of farming – one that reduces reliance on plastics altogether.
At the same time, some of the most plastic-intensive practices remain tied to conventional farming methods. Berry growers, for example, rely on thick white impermeable tarps to fumigate soil before planting. These tarps trap gases such as chloropicrin and 1,3-D (Telone), both classified as toxic air contaminants. Beyond their other adverse impacts, such practices reinforce a system dependent on fossil fuel-derived inputs.
There is another path.
Transitioning to organic and climate-smart farming begins with rebuilding soil health, often through compost application and cover-cropping. Healthy soils not only support crop growth but also store carbon. According to U.S. Department of Agriculture modeling tools, compost can sequester significant amounts of carbon per acre each year, especially when combined with practices like crop rotation, mulch and hedgerows.
Farmers are already demonstrating what this looks like in practice. Watsonville grower Dick Peixoto of Lakeside Organics describes a system built on living soils: nourish the soil, and the soil sustains the crops. It’s a model that reduces chemical dependence, improves resilience and aligns agricultural productivity with environmental health.
The Pajaro and Salinas valleys could become leading models for this approach – places where innovation, ecology and agriculture work together. But that future depends on choices made now.
If the Plasticene Age is defined by the rapid expansion of fossil fuel-based materials into every corner of life, its legacy in agriculture is still being written.
We have the potential to make our valleys thriving, abundant showcases of climate-smart farming, which benefits communities, wildlife, air, soil and water while safeguarding the farmworkers who grow our food. I envision a future in which renewables and agroecological practices gain dominance, and the Plasticene Age is remembered as a time when Big Oil, Big Ag and Big Chem once roamed the Earth, their excesses triggering their own extinction.
Woody Rehanek was a farmworker in Washington state for 18 years and a special education teacher in Pajaro Valley Unified School District for 18 years. He is a member of Safe Ag Safe Schools and a founding member of the Campaign for Organic and Regenerative Agriculture. He lives in Watsonville.