Hermosa Beach is small. It’s barely 1.4 square miles of prime real estate wedged between Manhattan Beach and Redondo. Because of that tight footprint, every inch of sidewalk and sand matters to the people living there. Recently, the local government made a massive move that shifted the legal landscape of the South Bay: Hermosa Beach bans public camping. This wasn't a snap decision, but rather the result of a long, bubbling tension between residents, business owners, and advocates for the unhoused population.
It’s about the "Green Belt." It's about the Pier. It's about the Strand.
If you’ve walked down Pier Avenue lately, you’ve probably noticed the vibe is changing. The city council didn't just wake up one day and decide to get tough; they were watching the Supreme Court. Specifically, the Grants Pass v. Johnson ruling changed everything. Before that ruling, cities in the West were basically paralyzed. They couldn't enforce camping bans if they didn't have enough shelter beds available. Now? The handcuffs are off. Hermosa Beach moved fast to update its municipal code because, frankly, they didn't want to become the only spot in the South Bay without a strict ordinance.
The Legal Shift: Why Hermosa Beach Bans Public Camping Now
For years, the Ninth Circuit Court of Appeals held a metaphorical gun to the head of California cities. The Martin v. Boise decision basically said that ticketing someone for sleeping outside when they had nowhere else to go was "cruel and unusual punishment." Hermosa Beach officials, like many in Los Angeles County, felt their hands were tied. They could ask people to move, but they couldn't really force the issue without risking a massive lawsuit.
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Everything flipped in June 2024.
The Supreme Court’s decision in Grants Pass basically handed the power back to local municipalities. Hermosa Beach acted quickly. The city council updated Hermosa Beach Municipal Code Section 12.20.010. They didn't just ban tents; they banned "camping" in a broad sense. We're talking about staying in one place with gear—sleeping bags, stoves, or makeshift structures—on any public property.
Why the rush? It’s simple. Neighboring cities like Redondo Beach and Torrance were already tightening their rules. Local leaders feared a "balloon effect." If you squeeze the air out of one part of a balloon, it just moves to another. If Redondo gets strict and Hermosa stays soft, the unhoused population naturally migrates to the beach. Hermosa's council wanted to make sure they weren't the path of least resistance.
What the Ordinance Actually Says (and What It Doesn't)
People get confused about what "banning camping" actually looks like on the ground. It’s not a 24/7 "go to jail" card for anyone sitting on a bench. The ordinance specifically targets the act of establishing a living space on public land. This includes the beach, the parks, and the iconic "Green Belt" trail that runs through the heart of the city.
Actually, the city is trying to be careful. They know the lawyers are watching.
The ban is technically enforceable at all times, but the city’s approach usually involves "outreach first." That’s the official line, anyway. The Hermosa Beach Police Department (HBPD) works with Los Angeles County’s Homeless Outreach Services Team (HOST). When they find someone camping, the first step isn't handcuffs; it’s a conversation. They offer services. They offer transport to shelters.
But here is the rub: the South Bay has a notorious shortage of shelter beds.
When Hermosa Beach bans public camping, critics point out that "offering a shelter bed" often means offering a bed in downtown Los Angeles or far out in the Valley. For someone who has lived in the South Bay for years, moving to a high-density shelter miles away feels like exile. This is where the tension lies. The city says they are protecting public health and safety. Advocates say they are just moving a "problem" they refuse to solve.
The Reality on the Strand and the Pier
If you talk to the shop owners near the Pier, you hear a lot of relief. They deal with the day-to-day reality of the situation. We’re talking about human waste in doorways, aggressive panhandling, and customers feeling unsafe walking to their cars at night. For a town that relies heavily on tourism and "beach vibes," that’s a death sentence for business.
"It’s not that we don't care," one local business owner told me off the record. "But I can't run a restaurant when there’s a literal encampment blocking the sidewalk. It’s not fair to the people paying rent or the people trying to visit."
There’s also the fire risk.
The Green Belt is a beautiful, wood-chipped path. It’s also incredibly flammable during a California drought. Unregulated camping often involves small cooking fires or discarded cigarettes. In a town as densely packed as Hermosa, a single fire in the Green Belt could take out a dozen multi-million dollar homes in minutes. This is the perspective that drove the city council to vote unanimously on these changes. They see it as a liability issue as much as a social one.
Enforcement vs. Compassion: A Difficult Balance
Is it working? It depends on who you ask.
If you measure success by the number of tents on the beach, then yes, the fact that Hermosa Beach bans public camping has been effective. The visible encampments have largely vanished. You don't see the clusters of blue tarps that were becoming more common a few years ago. The police are active, and the message has been sent: you cannot stay here.
However, if you measure success by "solving homelessness," the needle hasn't moved much.
Most people who are displaced from Hermosa simply move to the fringes. They find a spot under a bridge in a different jurisdiction or hide in the industrial areas of Torrance. The "People Concern," a social services agency that has worked in the area, emphasizes that criminalizing camping doesn't fix the underlying issues of mental health, addiction, or the astronomical cost of housing in the 90254 zip code.
The city has invested in a "homelessness liaison" officer and mental health clinicians. This is a step up from the old-school "just move 'em along" tactics. By pairing a cop with a social worker, the city hopes to break the cycle. But let's be honest—it's an uphill battle. When you have a city with zero dedicated homeless shelters within its borders, "enforcement" will always be the primary tool.
The Financial Cost of the Ban
Cleaning up camps isn't cheap. Policing isn't cheap.
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When Hermosa Beach bans public camping, they are committing to a long-term expense. It requires constant patrolling. It requires Public Works crews to come in and "remediate" sites, which often involves hazardous waste removal. Critics argue that the money spent on enforcement could be better spent on "Permanent Supportive Housing."
The counter-argument from the city is that the cost of not acting is higher. Property values, tax revenue from tourism, and the general quality of life for the 19,000 residents are the priorities. In a town where a modest fixer-upper starts at $2 million, the residents have high expectations for their local government. They pay high property taxes and they want clean parks. It’s a classic "Not In My Backyard" (NIMBY) vs. "Yes In My Backyard" (YIMBY) struggle, played out on a very small, very expensive stage.
What’s Next for the South Bay?
Hermosa isn't an island. What they do affects Manhattan Beach and Redondo Beach.
Currently, we are seeing a regional hardening of rules. The South Bay Cities Council of Governments (SBCCOG) has been trying to coordinate a regional response. They know that if one city gets tough, the unhoused population just shifts across the street. We might see more "Pallet Shelters" or tiny home villages popping up in less residential areas of the South Bay, but don't expect them in Hermosa. There’s just no room.
The legal battle might not be over, either. While Grants Pass gave cities more leeway, California state law is still a factor. Governor Gavin Newsom has been pushing cities to do more, even issuing executive orders to clear camps on state land. But the California Constitution has its own protections. We could see future lawsuits focusing on the "due process" of how property is seized during camp cleanups.
Actionable Steps for Residents and Visitors
If you live in the area or are visiting, the landscape has changed. You need to know how to navigate this new reality.
First, if you see a dangerous situation or a large encampment, don't try to handle it yourself. Use the "Hermosa Beach Go" app. It’s the city’s official reporting tool. It allows you to snap a photo and send a GPS location directly to Public Works and the police. This creates a paper trail and ensures the city is held accountable for its own ordinance.
Second, understand the limits. The police can’t just arrest someone for "looking homeless." There has to be a violation of the camping ordinance. If someone is just sitting on a bench during the day, they have every right to be there.
Third, get involved in the conversation about regional solutions. The ban is a band-aid. If you want to see the "balloon effect" stop, the South Bay needs more beds—period. Support organizations like "Harbor Interfaith Services" that actually work to get people off the streets and into housing.
Hermosa Beach is a beautiful place. The camping ban is an attempt to keep it that way, but it’s a complex solution to a heartbreaking problem. Whether you agree with the ban or not, it is the law of the land now. The days of unregulated camping on the South Bay's shores are, for the foreseeable future, over.
To stay informed on local policy changes, attend the City Council meetings at City Hall on Valley Drive. They usually happen on the second and fourth Tuesday of every month. It’s where these decisions are made, and it’s where your voice actually has a chance to be heard before the next big ordinance is passed. Stay vigilant, stay empathetic, and stay engaged with your community.