Channel Islands National Park
“I am a dolphin," Vitali lamented, "If you leave them out of water for too long they die.” He was becoming increasingly tired of all the cacti and sand as we made our way through the Sonoran and Mojave deserts. I reassured him that soon we would be on an Island, and he better not hope too hard, because we would literally be stranded in an ocean of water with no escape for four days.
Our original plan was to spend four nights on the island of Santa Cruz, in Channel Islands National Park. The days leading up to our ferry out I had been checking the weather and while the NWS showed partly sunny but windy, google (which I know is unreliable), showed cloudy and windy, and I started to have doubts. Overnight lows would be in the 50s, and highs in the 60s. It didn’t sound too bad on paper, but it was probably humid, and if it was windy? What would we do for four days on a small island in inclement weather? We’d participate so much in the passage of time that we’d become the quantum time travelers from Star Trek.
So, we revised our reservation to just two nights, and was able to change our return ferry ticket for two days earlier. We hedged our bets -- if it was miserable, at least it was only for two days.
The skies alternated between overcast and drizzling as we crossed Los Angeles and approached Ventura. We stopped at an In-n-Out Burger for lunch -- this was our first experience at the chain and we were highly impressed. Everything on the menu is gluten-free except for the bun, which means I could enjoy an actual burger and fries with minimal chance of cross-contamination. We ordered standard cheeseburgers with fries and were instantly indoctrinated into the cult of In-n-Out. We could see why the lines were so extraordinarily long, and why people would wait for lengthy amounts of time to obtain these magical burgers.
We pulled into the marina parking lot and checked in – we were a bit early, but still had time to go to the Visitor Center, get our passport stamp, and look around.
Back in the parking lot, we put Numa’s sunglasses on, said goodbye, and told her not to talk to any strangers – she’d have to wait in the Whale lot for our return. Later, after we were already on the island, Vitali wondered, “Did I lock the car?” The skies were beginning to clear, which was most welcome.
Boarding started one hour prior to departure with a gentleman reviewing all of the checked luggage for following the rules the carrier had set forth – nothing dangling, no single-use plastic bags, no water and no fuel– yet we saw items dangling and many single-use plastic bags… we had to bring another backpack because we thought nothing could be strapped outside of them.
As the inbound group departed the boat, we saw some people carrying up rented kayaks. Darn… it would have been nice to rent one and take it with us, as the adventure outfitter on the island only offered guided tours (and $50 wetsuit and snorkel rentals…). The world’s densest collection of sea caves is on Santa Cruz.
We boarded and situated ourselves on the upper deck in the stern. We got underway and we’re listening to the captain say – lower deck back is the most stable if you’re not feeling well -- front and top is the worst! Uh oh… I decided to proactively remove myself from the upper deck and sit down outside on the lower deck. I spent the next 75 minutes enduring the longest ocean voyage of my life and cringing from the nausea – but was soon able to plant my legs back on terra firma at the Scorpion anchorage still having custody of my lunch.
The weather ended up being beautiful on the island. Blue skies, a few wisps of cloud, warm (low 70s), and not humid. There was a short orientation to the rules of the island – by one of the two rangers who live there full time, and then they set us loose! Our campsite was about a half mile walk inland, at the base of gently rolling hills and canyons. The area we were at was mostly group sites, but were well spread out and lightly occupied. They were set in a grove of eucalyptus trees – which were so fragrant the air was scented. We almost immediately met the island’s only predator – the island fox.
They were so cute, the little scavengers. Between them and the crows that knew how to operate zippers…
We set up camp and then hiked up to Cavern Point, and was rewarded with a beautiful ocean view, a balm to our eyes after months in the desert. The mainland was shrouded under a veil of smog.
Back at camp, we had finished dinner and were in the tent chilling, when all of a sudden we could hear our neighbors – a family of four, the mother – “Reed is choking. Reed is choking!” to her husband. It sounded like the father slapped the kid on the back a few times and finally (it seemed like a long time), he starts coughing and breathing again and the mom says to the kid “Great job Reed, great job.” This praise was both comical and jarring. You’re on a family trip on a remote island – basically inaccessible, despite being so close to LA – and there’s a medical emergency. What do you do? Possible help and the ranger is half a mile down the road – by the time you get there and back… This is true of any wilderness setting but it made us wonder how people can tolerate this risk with children? Yikes.
Another event happened to us just a few days ago – in Sequoia National Park. We’re in a campground about 15 minutes up a winding mountain road from the Visitor Center, and there’s zero cell service. This kid is riding a scooter and turns a corner and he loses traction and completely wipes out down an embankment. He starts moaning like he is gravely injured – I am expecting to see bones sticking out. I’m wondering what the heck his parents are going to do if he has a major trauma – he needs to be driven out of the park to medical help, at least an hour away. Fortunately, his parents come walking him up the road and he’s just a little scraped up. Noooo thank you.
The next day we had planned to hike across the island to Smuggler’s Cove, where the ranger told us was the best surf fishing. It was a steep climb up to the interior, and a steep climb down to the cove, but it was a beautiful traverse! I imagined it was like being in the Shire, between the little houses near the anchorage, to the dappled sunlit paths, to the warm rolling hills veiled in low morning clouds. It was like summer camp for adults!
We arrived at Smuggler’s Cove and were pleased to see no one else was there, save a few sailboats. Vitali set to work on catching lunch, while I watched the crows while they watched me.
We spent a few hours there, exploring the beach and being grossed out by giant insects, but were ultimately not successful in our goal of catching a meal. We started the hike back just as people were arriving, so it was great timing, and we took the Scorpion Canyon trail back to camp, which happened to be extremely steep. The hiking guide said to do this one clockwise, starting from the harbor to avoid the steep climb, but we passed five groups of people doing the exact opposite.
The morning of our departure we hiked out to Potato Harbor, (so named because it’s shaped like a potato) a beautiful and isolated blue-green bay on the north side of the island. There were quite a few seagulls flying around and provided some beautiful movement to the ocean scenes.
I was already dreading the boat ride back, but according to one of the crew the ride back would be much gentler. I’d believe it after setting foot on the mainland. We packed our camp up and went down to the beach to wait for our ride. Vitali took the time to swim in the ocean and get a few laps in.
The boat ride back was uneventful except for when we encountered a pod of dolphins, who spent a minute swimming along with us and jumping in and out of the waves. Back on land, we picked up in-n-out again, and headed towards Mojave, CA, a halfway point between the coast and Vegas, which we had decided to stop by for two days to recharge from roughing it.
By the time we got to Mojave it was dark, and windy AF. Actual, I’m having difficulty walking in a straight line winds. We were worried the motel sign would fall on Numa while we slept... It was still windy the next morning, but less so, and we continued towards Vegas, passing through Barstow... but we couldn't stop there -- it was bat country.
Comments