The crossing, Prisoners Harbor, the foxes, and Venus

The journey from the mainland to the first stop on the island is supposed to take about an hour, then another half an hour to the second stop (Prisoners Harbor) where we will disembark. It will take an hour if no one sees a whale spout. If someone spots a whale, the boat will come to a complete stand still so that everyone can scan the water for signs of a whale. People saw whale spouts. The ferry took a detour to investigate. The whale had just taken a deep dive, it would not surface again for a while. But don't worry, there is another one over there. This whale has taken a deep dive also. They are blue whales. Blue whales are not blue, but they are the largest animal ever to live on Earth. We were told this many times. One of my companions was concerned with the validity of this claim (nearly as many times) as there most certainly have been a dinosaur that was bigger.  I see neither whale spout nor tail during the 30 minutes we spend trolling back and forth. I do think "what does largest mean? Length, volume, mass?" each time the claim is made and countered by my companion. The journey takes two and a half hours instead of one and a half, but I learn that blue whales are the largest animal (or maybe not) that has ever lived and they are not blue.

We arrived at a long pier hurting out from a beach that stretched out to either side. Beyond the beach was a flat fan of low lying land where a stately term room mansion once stood before it burned down. Lines of Eucalyptus and a brick storehouse are that remain of the estate. The flatland was once a wetland and home to a village of native people before the Spanish came in the 1700's.

One of the ferry employees gave us a brief orientation to the island. The beach is neutral territory, but to the right that whole half of the island is privately owned. The hike up to the campground is 3.5 miles and there's nowhere to cool off so delaying our departure for a while to hang out at the beach might be advisable. We should keep our tents zipped at the top because the island foxes have learned how to unzip them. If we put our backpacks down we should put them zipper side down because the ravens have learned how to unzip them and will steal things. They will also steal things off of the picnic tables, so don't leave things out. And you may want to keep your socks and shoes in the tent as there have been reports of foxes stealing people's socks (no shoes though). The employee want sure why they wanted socks but not shoes. And if we choose to swim, shuffle our feet instead of stepping because you are less likely to surprise a stingray by stepping on it. Cool, I won't be swimming...

We did spend about an hour at the beach, it was rocky, large rounded stones instead of sand. On the walk from the pier to the beach a decomposing seal had washed up. I thought of stories I've heard of war experiences and the sweetness of rotting corpses. I can confirm the sweet taste as I breathed through my mouth. Several of my companions swam fully clothed, despite the stingray warning. We ate lunch, and drank as much water as we could stomach before the hike up to the campground.

3.5 miles is very short. It hardly qualifies as hiking really. A jaunt. And since we started the day believing we would be hiking 13 miles from the other ferry stop, it was especially inconsequential. Hardly anything that is until I was carrying several gallons of water up a hill (in addition to all the other gear) for 3.5 miles in the unrelenting southern California sunlight. I definitely didn't eat enough, or that's my excuse for how exhausted I felt when we arrived at our campground 600 feet above sea level (but I swear we ascended and descended several times). The campground had four sites under some oak trees, the first shade we saw after starting our hike and a pit toilet.

We ate dinner and watched the sun set over the mountainous terrain of the island, a line of marine fog rolling towards us. Venus shown brightly above the island, and maybe Mars. As soon as the sun went below the hills the foxes began to emerge. We saw several of them run through the dry grass nearby, paying us no mind as they went to explore and presumably to look for any zippers carelessly left at the bottom of tent doors. They had bright red faces and legs and grey backs and tails. They seemed quite unconcerned with our proximity as they streamed out of the nearby bushes. Soon the camp was full of foxes sniffing and searching and digging but we had no altercations with them and in the morning they returned to their homes.

We all turned in early and slept well, aside from me who kept hearing the whine of mosquitos swarming close to me. Several times throughout the night I turned on my headlamp to check that they were outside the tent instead of inside. In other nighttime auditory news, I can say with confidence what (at least the Channel Island) fox says. It says "whoof whoof" like a dog losing its voice. So, swedish guy, mystery solved.

Prelude to the Channel Islands

The first book I ever read was the Islands of the Blue Dolphins by Scott O'Dell. It's the story of a native girl who was left behind when her tribe was taken off her island home by the Spanish. She lived alone on the Island for more than a decade fending for herself. It's based on a true story and took place on one of the Channel Islands (though not the one I am visiting). When my friend asked if I wanted to go backpacking on Santa Cruz island, I was very excited to see what it was like since the story of that girl completely alone for years has stayed with me all of my life.

To get to Santa Cruz island you have to take a ferry from Ventura on the mainland. We were to leave early in the morning and so we had reserved a campsite on the beach in Ventura where we would can't the night before. When we arrived in Ventura, however, the man at the kiosk told us that the primitive campground was only for RVs... I'm sorry? That's right you can only stay there in an RV, sorry. Why? Because there are no services, no facilities (it's primitive you see). Okay. As I turned around I noticed a bank of no less than 6 bathrooms. Apparently those are only for use by people who own RVs.

Ventura at sunset

Instead we stayed in a lovely Vagabond inn, light green with dark green doors. It was the kind of motor hotel with two stories, all the rooms opening to the outdoors, palm trees lining the parking lot (this is California, you know). There was a pool in the center of the U shaped bank of doors. A brightly lit neon blue kidney shining cheerfully in the night. We did not swim. No one swam, although I did see a pair of lovers rolling over each other in the hot tub. 

We walked to downtown Ventura and stood on a street corner doing the seven people deciding where to eat dance, you know the one: "here?" to the first restaurant we see, an overly fancy Mexican place. 

"What about that place, they look like they have slabs of meat," one person says. 

"Hey, Natural Grill?" I'm starving, starting to feel faint. 

"There, there is a taqueria," someone points down the street, but when we get there they are closing. We end up back at the fancy Mexican place, the first restaurant we saw. It has an ornate ceiling and twelve dollar guacamole. One of us gets a margarita with a beer attached to the side with some contraption, the opening below the surface of the cocktail. The waiter explains how this will unfold. As the margarita is consumed, lowering the level of the liquid, it will be replace with beer. The glass will remain full but the beverage will slowly become a beergarita as cocktail is replaced by lager and then just a beer in a margarita glass. I think any beverage that requires an orientation is probably unnecessarily complicated. My friend's dad, who ordered the drink looks amazed by the technology and pleased. We eat twelve dollar tacos and twelve dollar guacamole and then retire to our motor hotel.

I'm the morning we will drive to the marina and take a ferry to Santa Cruz island.