Flashback Friday: The Windmills of Golden Gate Park and the Sand Beneath Them

Welcome back to Flashback Friday.

This is the part of the week where we wander through the strange, specific, quietly brilliant stories that made The City what it is. And today I’m thinking about wind. Real wind. The kind that whips your hair sideways out by Ocean Beach and makes you question your life choices.

I was out there recently, watching the fog move like it had somewhere important to be, and those windmills just stood there. Tall. Slightly theatrical. Almost unnecessary looking.

And then I remembered.

They are not decorative.

When you stand near the Dutch Windmill at the western edge of Golden Gate Park, you can smell the salt air. You can hear the low hum of traffic on the Great Highway. It feels like the edge of something. Which makes it even more absurd to remember that once upon a time, this entire area was sand.

Not dunes like a cute beach vacation. Actual shifting, relentless sand dunes.

So why are there windmills in Golden Gate Park?

Because in the late 1800s, this park had a problem. It had trees to grow and absolutely no fresh water to grow them with. The western half of the park was basically wind and sand. Beautiful in its own way, but not exactly garden-ready.

The solution was surprisingly practical. Build windmills to pump groundwater.

The Dutch Windmill went up in 1903. A few years later, the Murphy Windmill followed. Together, they pulled thousands of gallons of water per day from underground aquifers to irrigate the young park. Without them, those cypress trees and meadows we take for granted might never have taken root.

Do they do anything now?

No. Not in the functional sense.

They stopped pumping water decades ago when modern irrigation systems took over. Today, they stand as restored landmarks. The Murphy Windmill, in particular, went through a massive restoration in the 2010s after years of deterioration.

But here is what they still do.

They anchor the western edge of the park with a kind of stubborn grace. They remind you that Golden Gate Park was engineered into existence. It did not just “happen.” It was wrestled out of sand with vision, labor, and a lot of wind.

And yes, that tulip garden near the Dutch Windmill? The Queen Wilhelmina Garden. It blooms every spring like a little nod to the Netherlands, a soft contrast to the Pacific crashing a block away.

It is easy to forget how improbable this park is.

A world-class urban oasis built on dunes.

Windmills that once powered its survival.

Now they mostly power nostalgia. And honestly, that might be enough.

Next time you are out there, pause for a second. Feel the wind. Look up at those blades. Remember that The City has always been a little ambitious, a little impractical, and completely determined.

That energy still feels familiar.