October 28th 2021

Our rolly nights in Santa Barbara’s bouncy anchorage had now combined with the toll taken during our harrowing flight from weather a few days prior, resulting in a thoroughly exhausted and sleep-deprived crew. Our excitement from our dolphin encounter upon our arrival to Santa Cruz Island had temporarily energized us and electrified our senses but then, at anchor later that evening, watching the night sky from our hammocks, swinging gently from the rocking of the waves, the peaceful calm of the harbor, the night – quiet, everything still…, well, this led to very deep and lengthy sleeps for us (this behavior being unusual for only one of us).

Although not reflected in our late start, we were eager to get to shore and start exploring. Being the only boat here, we wanted to make the most of having the place to ourselves. We had a quick breakfast and each packed a bag for our big shore excursion – hat, water, sunglasses, sunscreen, snack, camera, map, and the required park permit that we had bought online a few days before. As we climbed down into the dinghy our expectations were very high, especially after the exhilaration of yesterday’s arrival, so you can imagine how gutted we were to look up and see the big ferry from the mainland pulling up to the dock, belching its contents onto the wharf. Our remote and uninhabited island was suddenly crowded with noise and activity and bustling and noise and unloading and people and gear and Ahhhhh!!!! We had missed our chance.

As we bobbed in our dinghy unsure what to do, but knowing we didn’t want to head for the now-very-inhabited dock, Charles suggested we explore the coastline a bit. He wanted to check out the anchorage to the west of us at Pelican Bay. Since I am always up for coastline exploration, especially in the dinghy, it didn’t take much to convince me. Charles throttled up the big (9.9) gas motor and we were off.

As we made a beeline towards the western point of Prisoners Harbor we spotted splashes and movement off to our left, fairly close to shore but heading towards us rapidly. Dolphins! Lots and lots of dolphins! And suddenly everywhere we looked we saw dolphins! I couldn’t believe my eyes. They were all around us, the bravest coming right up alongside the dinghy and swimming so close they had to have been touching our hull. Charles slowed to an idle, there were so many of them and we didn’t want any to be struck by our propeller.

But slowing down was not what they wanted. They began circling and racing past us, only to circle back and zoom by again, like drivers at a stoplight revving high-performance engines hoping to instigate their neighbors to race. Not wanting to disappoint, Charles sped up, hesitantly at first, but we could see their delight as they torpedoed and leapt from the water, picking up speed and effortlessly keeping pace with us. (click here for the video that I still can’t believe exists)

We looped around and accelerated, heading back in the direction we had just come from, the dolphins racing alongside in gleeful pursuit. As we charged full-throttle across Prisoner’s Harbor more and more dolphins joined the stampede until we were completely surrounded. There had to have been hundreds. We were stunned, our brains not fully processing what was happening. There were dolphins in every direction as far as the eye could see and some, were close enough to touch.

In hindsight I have wondered why I didn’t try to touch them, they were so close, but the truth is, it was like a dream that I didn’t want to end. I didn’t want to pop the bubble or to have it be over, I didn’t want to spoil the magic, all we could do was film and watch and try to take as much of it in as possible, our mouths agape in wonder and disbelief.

And then, about 30 minutes after it started, they were gone as quickly as they had appeared, no doubt in search of something faster or tastier than we were. We turned around and slowly made our way back towards the dock, the ferry having moved to its mooring ball to await its return to Ventura that afternoon. Although we had been disappointed by its sudden appearance, there is no doubt in my mind that we have the ferry to thank for bringing the dolphins and for the boisterous and playful mood with which they arrived at our doorstep. Talk about a silver lining!

Back on track now, we continued with our plan to check out Pelican Bay, our surreal experience overshadowing everything, life feeling intense and dreamlike all at once. Did that really just happen? In a daze we explored the new anchorage and then toodled our way back to the dock. By this time the crowds had cleared out, either headed to camp sites or off on day hikes before catching the return ferry.

We tied up to the dinghy dock at the wharf and made our way ashore, hopeful to see some of the unique wildlife the island is known for. All but two of the ferry passengers had left. They, like us, had waited for the crowd to clear, not wanting to hike to the campground as part of a herd. We chatted with them for a few minutes learning that they were from Poland and Norway, currently living in Irvine, California. She, a cellist and he, a hirer for In-N-Out, were spending the next week hiking and camping across Santa Cruz Island. It sounded amazing.

As we were talking, distracted by conversation, the top predator of Santa Cruz Island and the critter that I wanted to see the most (other than the pygmy mammoth, of course), appeared at the edge of the clearing, all four pounds of him. A Santa Cruz Island fox (Urocyon littoralis santacruzae) sporting its tracking collar, was making its way around to the empty picnic tables searching for any wayward snacks that may have been dropped by the recent ferry patrons. It skirted around our table, coming close enough to sniff but no closer. It seemed used to but wary of people, no doubt making daily rounds that coincide with the ferry’s appearance and departure.

Like the pygmy mammoth that once roamed these islands, the island fox also adapted to the reduced range by becoming smaller. Thankfully, these tiny critters did not meet the same fate, their extinction halted in 2004 thanks to a science-based capture and breeding program that lasted just 3 years, the success of the program ending the need for the program. Additionally, invasive golden eagles were relocated to the mainland while reintroducing the bald eagle back into its traditional habitat. Unlike golden eagles, bald eagles do not prey on the adorable little foxes.

As the camping couple geared up and headed out, we made our way towards the beach and explored an area called Central Valley, a marshy spot just behind the musical pebbly/cobbly beach (volume up for this video), where we spotted an Island Scrub Jay (Aphelocoma insularis), one of the few species that adapted to isolation by becoming larger than its mainland equivalent. From there we joined the road to do some hiking, get some exercise, and hopefully reach a nice overlook spot to take some photos.

But it wasn’t long before the sun got too hot and the road got too dusty and my back got too sweaty, and my water tasted funny, and my feet/knees/hips/back/neck hurt and the road just kept going up, always up. So I started thinking about having to go down, because my knees dislike down, especially for extended periods, and every step up meant another step I would have to come down.

The views along the way however, did not disappoint as we climbed along the coastline before heading inland. The dust kicked up by the National Park and Nature Conservancy vehicles blanketed the plants and foliage near the road, coating everything in a monochromatic layer of thick road-colored powder, evidence of the lack of rainfall that has plagued California in recent years. There were narrower trails further along that branch off of the road but we weren’t going to be there long enough to explore them. We had three weeks to explore the northern Channel Islands and mainland before heading south to Catalina Island for Thanksgiving with the kids, and this was our first stop. If we wanted we could always pop in here again after we circumnavigated the island.

We decided to call it quits when we reached the Nature Conservancy fence-line. I turned around and started making my way slowly down while Charles explored a little farther before turning around to catch up. Our walk back was uneventful, the ferry leaving for the mainland as we descended. We chatted with a park ranger for a few minutes (she normally works at the visitor center in Ventura), and saw another little fox (or possibly the same one) before heading back to the dinghy.

Back on the boat we relaxed for a bit then Charles grilled some chicken while I made a greek salad. We were beginning to settle in and get in the swing of transient life. We were having more good days than bad and some of our good days were truly spectacular.

With one eye on the weather, we decided to head out the next morning to an anchorage on the other side of the island. We wanted to circumnavigate Santa Cruz Island and had been looking for a suitable weather window to visit the amazing and highly anticipated Painted Cave, and it looked like those conditions would be here in a day or two. Our emotions ranged from cautiously optimistic to bursting with excitement, all sprinkled with moments of worry and terror and I wondered if I would ever get used to this…