At the threshold of Tomales Bay sits Lawson’s Landing, the largest private campground on the California coast. Run by Carl “Willy” Vogler, his cousin, Mike Lawson, and their 21 employees, the boat launch and campground attract droves of inland visitors. 

Born and raised at Lawson’s, Mr. Vogler knows the bay perhaps better than anyone. He writes the Lawson’s Landing Fishing Report, where he updates his loyal online readers on fishing rules and the most exciting catch sent his way. The site gets as many as 2,000 readers a day. 

Lawson’s Landing has been in Mr. Vogler’s family for almost a century, but times have changed. Mr. Vogler has taken the brunt of administrative and permitting demands that have hit the business like a rough set of waves. Over 200 trailers that were first placed at the campground in the 1950s were removed several years ago as part of a permitting process, and the number of campsites allowed on the property was halved to protect environmentally sensitive habitats. When the longtime weekenders left Lawson’s, so did a culture that Mr. Vogler grew up with.

Point Reyes Light: How did the removal of trailers affect business in the last decade?

Willy Vogler: It was hard. We’ve had to raise our rates substantially. Twenty years ago, a campsite was $9 a night with a line out the campground. Now, we run at $60 per site with reservations ahead of time. We never have lines anymore, which in some ways is a good thing because it’s easier to manage. The worst part was in 2012, when we were stripped down from 1,000 to 75 camping sites. That year, each site was reserved for Memorial Day weekend. We had to turn away a lot of people. Rumor spread that we were closed for good, and that hurt.

Light: You and Mike took over in 1998. What’s changed since then?

Vogler: I inherited a functional business, and I had no intention of changing things. And we didn’t change until we were forced to with the coastal commission ruling in 2011, when we had to start shifting things around. Mike’s son Justin had a lot of experience from his time away from the business. An outside perspective always helps.

Light: How do you feel about the changes?

Vogler: What I miss is the community. And it’s nice now, it’s working. You get a lot of repeat customers still coming from the Sacramento Valley and that’s cool, but it ain’t quite the same. It’ll be harder for my kids to raise children down here than it was for me growing up, when I had about 1,000 people watching out for me. Growing up, my parents lived in a mobile home—a double mobile home, king of the trailer park—that was by the store. But with all the reconstruction going on in the last 10 years, they moved on. First to Arizona and then, I think, to Florida. 

Light: You think?

Vogler: Who knows? I think they’re in Big Pine Key. My brother moved there, too. He was dissatisfied with the coastal commission redesigning the place so he moved about as far away as you can get. There’s a point in Maine that might be farther, but Florida has two oceans to fish in. But Dillon Beach used to be a town with families, too. Now they’re getting exempt from short-term rental restrictions.

Light: How do you feel about the idea of not restricting S.T.R.s in Dillon Beach? 

Vogler: It’s funny. One thing Dillon Beach does not have is enough water. Renters don’t give a damn about conserving water. 

Light: What about the nightly renters at Lawson’s Landing? 

Vogler: We’re water-rich down here. When it rains anywhere from the top of the ridge down, the water runs down and is collected like a big sponge. So far, our groundwater has been maintained. Soon, when we have a wastewater system going in, our water will get dumped back on the hill via irrigation and we’ll be set even better than before. 

Light: How did the pandemic affect your business?

Vogler: It was a Charlie Foxtrot. Just so much work and it was very scary at the time to think the business might fail after decades. When all of a sudden the government said, ‘You can have a business again, but you can only use half your sites because of Covid,’ it was hard to run a business at half capacity. We had to cancel tons of reservations and reassemble the business. There were days when family members cried themselves to sleep because of how hard it was. Once things began to fully open, we were busy all the time, unlike before, when it was mostly just weekends. When you’ve gone from sitting on your ass to running full speed, it can send you haywire. I’m glad it’s over and I’m not looking forward to the next one. I mean, I’m sure another lockdown is coming. I’d be fine with one coming during bluefin season.

Light: Are campers still primarily coming from the Sacramento Valley? 

Vogler: Mostly. Although, especially after the economic downturn in 2008, they’re coming from all over. When I was growing up, I had more friends from Sacramento than I had locally. When I went to junior college in Petaluma, no one had even heard of Dillon Beach. But the first time I went to outboard repair school in Sacramento, I remember seeing someone at every stoplight that I knew from the landing.

Light: How has Lawson’s bounced back from these blows? 

Vogler: There’s been a couple times where Lawson’s has seemed questionable at best, but it seems like we’ve come through the worst of it. There were times when the boys were smaller when we said, ‘You boys are going to have to go to college because this ain’t gonna be a thing, the way things look.’ But neither one of them is afraid to work. 

Light: Did they go to college in the end?

Vogler: Cameron was co-valedictorian of his class at Tomales High, but the laws on scholarships have changed from my day. Our business processes a lot of money, but we don’t have a lot of money. He went to junior college to study water treatment. Gage, my younger boy, really wants to get a license to fish bluefin tuna. It’s a nice idea, but the gas expense is extremely prohibitive. 

Light: What was the prospect of college like for you in the ’80s?

Vogler: I spent one trimester at Oregon State University in Corvallis, but it seemed pointless at the time because I knew I was going to come back here and work anyhow. There wasn’t that much student debt to be had at the time, but still more than I needed to accrue to work in a family business. Although based on all the people we had to hire to keep us from getting shut down, it may have been helpful to have some more knowledge.

Light: How has the landscape for fishing changed from when you were a kid? 

Vogler: It shouldn’t be that surprising that things have changed. When you’re growing up, all the old guys are telling you about how it used to be and that you’ll never see a good day of fishing again. Now I guess I get to do that. The fishing is still good. I’d always heard stories about stripers in Tomales Bay and never caught any until I found the right spot. Maybe it’s technique or knowing where to go. There are a lot of rules, too many sometimes. They can be so confusing, you’d have to be a maritime lawyer to understand them all. Even the wardens don’t know all the rules! But I’ll say it does help to keep the stock viable. A lot of people would argue against these rules, but the fish have rebounded and responded.

Light: After a lifetime of fishing on the bay, you must know all the best fishing spots.

Vogler: The water’s always moving. It’s funny—you meet different guys and show them a couple of spots and they show you a couple of spots. If you’re working all day launching boats and talking to fishermen, if something is going on, after work, out we go because we’ve got all that firsthand info on where the sweet spot is. I’m not that good of a fisherman, but I’m opportunistic.

Light: When do you plan to retire?

Vogler: Ah, I probably don’t. No, that requires money.